Sampit Madura May 2026

At the river, a dozen fishing boats were overloaded with refugees. A Madurese woman held a baby so tightly the infant had stopped crying. An old man was reciting the shahada over and over. A boatman, a Javanese who owed Juminten money for months of meals, saw her. “Get in,” he barked. “But only because you gave me credit.”

“Your people live in huts while we build houses,” Burhan sneered. “Don’t talk to me about progress.” sampit madura

“Your people come here, cut our trees, and now you call me a liar?” Hengki stood up, his stool clattering on the wooden planks. At the river, a dozen fishing boats were