Indonesia – a land of beautiful beaches, dense jungles and green mountains – is anything but paradise for the thousands of refugees trapped within its borders. Known among refugees as “The Green Hell,” it is a prison without walls, a place where beauty conceals a reality of despair. Many of these refugees’ their lives have been paralysed by a system that refuses to see them as human.
During my journey to Indonesia in late 2024, I walked alongside these refugees and witnessed their unrelenting struggles. This trip was both personal and professional: I was there to visit my cousin and her family, stranded for nine years, and to witness the broader challenges faced by refugee communities, particularly Hazara families.
This is their story. A story of resilience in the face of systemic neglect, of dreams stolen, and of lives trapped in limbo.
Death Without Dignity
Baby Luna was just a few days old when she was diagnosed with a serious heart condition. She needed major heart surgeries to survive her infancy. Luna became very ill at 85 days old. Her parents rushed her to the nearest hospital; however, the hospital staff refused to admit Luna. They wanted full and upfront payment. By the time the parents managed to frantically borrow money from friends and family, baby Luna turned blue and passed away in the foyer of the hospital in her father’s arms. She died while desperately gasping for oxygen. Baby Luna was my cousin’s little girl.
The image of Luna dying in her father’s arms, gasping for oxygen, haunts me. She was denied the most basic human right: a chance to live.
When Luna passed away, the family faced yet another major hurdle. Where would they bury her? In Indonesia, if a family is not registered with the UNHCR, they are required to pay exorbitant fees to the authorities yearly to secure and maintain the burial plots for their loved ones. Failure to make these payments results in a horrifying reality: the remains of the deceased may be removed, and the burial site reused for someone else. For families who want to return their loved ones to Afghanistan for burial, it would cost them up to $10,000 – an amount far beyond the means of most refugees.
For these refugees, even death brings indignity.
Challenges with Resettlement
In November 2014, the Australian government announced that it would not resettle any refugees from Indonesia in Australia who are registered with UNHCR in Indonesia after 1 July 2014. Australian policy ensured that after this date, refugees in Indonesia would never resettle in Australia, even if they were registered with the UNHCR and had family members in Australia. The current government is continuing the policy implemented by Scott Morrison when he was the immigration minister.
Life in Limbo: Over a Decade Without a Future
In Bogor, West Java, thousands of refugees – Hazaras, Somalis, Iraqis, Palestinians, and Syrians – survive in a state of suspended existence. They cannot work, study, or travel.
One story stands out. I met the wife of an Australian man who had waited for several years for a partner visa. Pregnant with their first child, she suffered a life-threatening car accident in 2024. Her husband, unable to take more time off work in Australia, missed the birth of his child. Their family remains split, their lives hijacked by a cruel system that punishes the innocent.
For refugees in Indonesia these stories are not exceptions, they are the rule. Families depend on dwindling aid, such as the AUD$100 monthly support once provided by Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS), which has now ceased. Without it, some rely on allowance from relatives abroad, while others are barely surviving.
Children born in Indonesia are stateless, growing up in legal limbo. Some families, unable to endure further suffering, return to Afghanistan – a country where the Taliban’s rule has turned Hazaras into targets of genocide, and women face gender apartheid.
A Mental Health Crisis Ignored
The mental health toll on refugees is staggering. Since 2014, at least 18 refugees from Afghanistan have reportedly taken their own lives in Indonesia, most of them young Hazara men. These were people who fled persecution with dreams of safety and dignity, only to find themselves trapped in despair.
For these men, the years slip by – 20s turn into 30s, and the hope of a future fades. Those with wives and children back home have missed precious family moments. Some men even faced divorce, as their wives, worn out by years of waiting without support, have moved on. They are forgotten not just by the system, but also by their own communities abroad.
Their pain is compounded by a global system that dehumanises them for political purposes.
In the face of neglect, refugees build their communities. Karate clubs and other initiatives bring refugees together, fostering a sense of belonging and empowerment. Five women from Afghanistan in Bogor have earned black belts, an extraordinary achievement under such desperate circumstances.
But these efforts, while inspiring, are no substitute for systemic change.
One of the most heartbreaking aspects of this crisis is the separation of families. Sisters in Canada. Brothers in Australia. Parents and children left behind in Indonesia. Some families have not seen each other in over a decade.
The refugees I met feel abandoned. Not just by the UNHCR, but by the diaspora itself. They ask: “Why isn’t our community doing more?” This question cuts deep. But the blame lies with governments, like Australia’s, whose policies force refugees into this limbo and prevent family reunification.
These refugees are not invisible. They are here. They are suffering. And they are waiting for you to act.
The time for action is now. They cannot wait another decade.
This article was originally published on Right Now and has been republished here with permission.
