Two decades after the Lapindo mudflow disaster began on May 29, 2006, many affected residents continue to live in constrained circumstances, grappling with unresolved economic, health, and environmental challenges.
Whether they have relocated or remained near the disaster site, these survivors are still fighting to rebuild decent lives, struggling to regain the sense of security and prosperity that was lost long ago.
On a quiet afternoon in the Renojoyo housing complex, the atmosphere feels subdued. This settlement was built primarily by families from the village of Renokenongo, which was completely submerged by the Lapindo mud twenty years ago. Before finding this permanent home, these residents, united under the organization Pagar Rekontrak, spent nearly four years living in makeshift shelters at the Porong New Market.
Since 2010, approximately 600 families have resided in this ten-hectare development in Kedungsolo Village, located about six kilometers southwest of the disaster’s epicenter. By transitioning to this site, the survivors have been forced to restart their lives from scratch, transforming former rice fields into a community they hope to call home.
The Ongoing Struggle for Clean Water
Siti Mukaidah, 49, is among those who settled in Renojoyo after receiving compensation from Lapindo. Reflecting on her journey on May 17, 2026, she noted, “I have lived in Kedungsolo since 2010. We had to build a new life after our village disappeared under the mud.” While Siti feels safer being further from the mud embankments, the lack of clean water remains a daily hurdle. Residents must purchase water from mountain-sourced tanker trucks for drinking, while the available well water is often cloudy and unsuitable for consumption.
Despite receiving compensation for their new homes, the residents are far from thriving. Many lost their livelihoods when the disaster struck, forcing them to take on whatever odd jobs they can find, from childcare and elder care to food service. “The housing is better now, but our economic situation is far worse,” Siti explains. “We used to have farmland; now, we have nothing.”
Despite the hardships, the community spirit remains a source of solace. Some women in the neighborhood collaborate by peeling garlic for local distributors, providing a small but vital boost to their family incomes during these difficult economic times. Siti, who previously taught at a local school, continues to emphasize that her family has received no special government support since their initial relocation.
Lingering Health Concerns
Public health has become a grave concern for the community. In the last two months alone, six residents in the complex have passed away from various illnesses, including breast, liver, thyroid, and nasal cancers. Many are reluctant or unable to seek professional medical care due to financial constraints, opting for herbal remedies or limited treatment instead.
While there is no official medical confirmation linking these deaths to the environmental impact of the mudflow, the residents noticed these health issues surfacing only after they moved from the temporary shelters to Kedungsolo in 2010. The lack of air quality and the lingering stench from the mud remain constant, unspoken anxieties for those living in the shadow of the disaster.
Adapting to a New Reality
Suri Wahono, another resident, echoes these sentiments. Though the fear of an immediate mud inundation has subsided, the pungent odor from the embankments often drifts into their neighborhood. Wahono, formerly a skilled silver craftsman whose work reached markets as far as Bali, saw his business collapse during the pandemic. Facing rising raw material costs, he has since pivoted to brass craftsmanship to sustain his family.
“I work alone now to keep production costs down,” Wahono shares from his small 2×3 meter workspace. Despite the struggle, he is thankful to have regained some semblance of his former trade, slowly finding his footing once again.
The Forgotten Residents
For Muna Ariyanti, 49, of Mindi Village, the reality is even more precarious. Located less than 100 meters from the mud embankment, Mindi has been designated a high-risk zone for ground subsidence. While most residents have been moved, Muna and dozens of others remain, unable to afford a new home if they sell their current, small property. Administrative records often list these residents as having moved to the Porong administrative area, effectively rendering them invisible to local government support. Consequently, the area has fallen into disrepair, with broken roads and stagnant water becoming the norm.
Muna survives by guarding motorcycles near the Porong station, a job that provides a modest income amid the local economic decline. Like many others, she struggles with her health, recently suffering a cardiac event. Access to healthcare remains inconsistent, leaving many residents to rely on their own limited resources.
Preserving Memory Through the Eyes of Children
The impact of the Lapindo disaster is now being felt by a new generation. During a recent drawing festival at Taman Dwarakerta, dozens of local children depicted the mudflow in their art—illustrating the gray smoke, the heavy machinery, and the scars left on their hometown. For these children, like first-grader Alvero Rafiski, the hope is simple: to live in a place with clean air, beautiful views, and no more mud. Their art serves as a poignant reminder that the trauma of the past continues to shape the dreams and fears of the future.
A Call for Government Accountability
Parlaungan Iffah Nasution, a public policy expert from Airlangga University, argues that the two-decade-long neglect of the Lapindo survivors represents a failure of governance. “There is a clear process of abandonment,” he notes. The government has failed to provide affirmative policies for these vulnerable groups, focusing instead on narrow definitions of disaster impact that exclude many who are still suffering indirect consequences.
Nasution stresses that the government must recognize these residents as a vulnerable group deserving of state-funded health insurance and social intervention. Furthermore, the responsibility of the mining company, Lapindo Brantas, should not be considered settled. “A company’s responsibility does not end when a disaster is ongoing,” he asserts. The government must act as a bridge between the victims and the company to ensure true accountability and the restoration of a viable living environment.
As the 20th anniversary of the tragedy approaches on May 29, 2026, activists and residents plan to gather for theatrical performances and memorials atop the mud embankments—a somber testament to a community still waiting for a resolution that remains long overdue.
Summary
Twenty years after the Lapindo mudflow disaster, displaced survivors continue to face significant economic instability, environmental hazards, and limited access to clean water and healthcare. Many residents, now living in settlements like Renojoyo or remaining in high-risk zones, have lost their traditional livelihoods and struggle to regain financial security. Despite these hardships, the government has been criticized by experts for its failure to provide adequate social interventions or support for the affected communities.
Public health remains a major concern, as residents report rising instances of severe illness and lingering environmental anxieties related to the ongoing mud presence. While some survivors have adapted through informal labor or trade, many remain vulnerable due to systemic neglect and administrative exclusion from state aid. As the disaster’s anniversary approaches, activists emphasize that the long-term accountability of both the government and the responsible mining company remains a critical, unresolved issue.