On the 20th anniversary of the August 5, 2003 hotel bombing in Jakarta, our thoughts and prayers go to all who were affected by the tragic event.
Seven months before Singaporean Carol Chia was caught in the bomb blast in a Jakarta hotel, a particularly hardworking staff member came crying to her.
She had problems at home and was not coping well.
“It was the first time someone had cried on my shoulder,” Carol, now 65, told Stories of Hope.
“It made me realise that I didn’t know my staff. I didn’t know how to talk to them.”
Carol – then a commercial kitchen consultant in her mid 40s – wanted to learn what to say to this staff member her time of need. So she signed up for a counselling course at Wesley Methodist Church.
Shortly after, a leader asked her to join the team as a volunteer counsellor.
“I didn’t know how to talk to my staff … Dealing with people freaked me out.”
“Dealing with people freaked me out,” Carol admitted to Stories of Hope.
She turned down the invitation, using work as an excuse.
The chain-smoking workaholic’s typical day started in the late morning, when she saw clients. She worked into the early hours of the morning, and over the weekends.
But the counselling leader persisted.
Carol eventually accepted the invitation, praying: “Lord, this door is opening and You want me to go through it. I will give it a try.”
Just months later on August 5, 2003, a suicide bomber detonated a bomb outside the JC Marriott Hotel in Jakarta where Carol and three colleagues were having lunch.
Carol saw a bright light and afterwards heard God’s voice guide her out of the carnage. (Read about her miraculous escape below.)
TRIGGER WARNING: The following contains graphic descriptions and images that may be distressing to some.
The explosion killed 13 people and injured 150 people, many seriously.
(The AP video below shows the aftermath of the blast that Carol escaped from.)
Carol suffered 14% burns to her face, hands, arm and thigh. She underwent painful skin graft surgery and operations to fix her broken jaw and four severed facial nerves.
Her fellow counsellors from Wesley became her “ready-made support group” during her recovery.
“I felt I didn’t have a single friend in the industry I had worked in for 25 years.”
“It touched me as I felt I didn’t have a single friend in the industry I had worked in for 25 years.
“I was very arrogant,” she admitted. “I was very good at what I did, and I was always right.
“In other words, I was very much in-your-face to my bosses, my colleagues, to people I was supervising, the team and the clients. Nobody was immune.
“I was a nasty piece of work.”
Before the blast, Carol had taken a personality test.
“It showed that I was very low on empathy and very high on self-reliance,” she said.
“I did the same personality test many times. The results were the same.”
But surviving the bomb blast changed Carol in more ways than one. For starters, she learnt to allow people to help her as she recovered from her injuries.
These people ranged from family to old friends to strangers, and included staff at The Burns Centre at Singapore General Hospital.
Of the hospital staff, Carol said: “They were warm, caring and no nonsense, and took excellent care of me.”
People whom she had not seen in more than 30 years also got in touch with her.
“Initially, I was resentful: Why nobody wants to be my friend when I am well and good? But why this curiosity when I am injured?”
But Carol was ultimately grateful for the kindness and gentleness she received.
Carol, who described herself as “someone who would enjoy living on a deserted island”, learnt to “be vulnerable, to receive help and support”.
“I learnt to accept and deal with feelings of anger, shame and physical discomfort. I learnt to get on with life and being different.
“And to accept that it was okay not to do everything on my own, and to be less in control and controlling.”
Later she would see why she was being “built up as a person”.
Carol also saw how God stripped down the person she used to be.
The first thing He removed – after guiding her out of the rubble and black billowing smoke of the hotel – was her love for tobacco.
“I used to smoke 100 sticks of cigarettes a day. I would be on the phone and have two lit at the same time.
“I could have bought a round-the-world ticket at least twice a year with the amount I was smoking,” she admitted.
It was a miracle that freed her instantly from the habit that she had for 25 years, she said. She hasn’t picked up a cigarette since.
“I had to let go of the work that I had prided myself on, that I really loved.”
Next, God took away her job – her “idol” – that she stubbornly clung to.
Seven months after the blast, Carol heard God’s voice very clearly. She described it as “hearing thoughts, but I knew they were not my thoughts”.
“He said, ‘Carol, am I not enough for you? Why are you hanging on to your job?'”
She obeyed and submitted her resignation letter.
“I had to let go of the work that I had prided myself on, that I really loved, and thought was God-given,” she said, tearing up at the memory.
“You cannot cling to what you think you have. You have to move forward,” she explained.
Feeling responsible for the huge trauma that her elderly parents were going through, Carol was determined to recover and not wallow in self-pity.
She soon started finding joy in little things that she normally took for granted – such as the first shower she was allowed to take days after the blast.
Little did she expect to find a far greater joy six months after the blast.
It started when a friend from her MGS (Methodist Girls’ School) days persuaded Carol to attend the Alpha Course. Its loving, non-judgemental, no-pressure approach welcomes all to ask questions about the Christian faith.
“She wasn’t the crying type at all before the blast.”
“Bribed by the prospect of good food, I went,” admitted Carol.
Carol had attended the course a few months before the blast, but dropped out after a couple of sessions, citing work trips that took her to Jakarta, China and Macau.
In the sessions before the blast, Carol couldn’t stand Nicky Gumbel (the winsome, smiley host in the Alpha videos), said the leader of the course, Carol’s old friend.
“But after the blast, she cried through all his videos and couldn’t get enough of them.
“She wasn’t the crying type at all before the blast,” the Alpha leader, who has known Carol since they were 13 years old, told Stories of Hope.
Carol agreed: “I would never let people see me cry. I never felt the need to cry.”
Through the videos and discussions, Carol was moved by the message that Jesus would have died for her – even if she was the only one on earth.
Through the Alpha course, the previously self-described “grumpy and crabby” woman found a joy and peace that is only possible through God. She became eager to learn more about Him and the Bible.
“I saw how God had stripped me of my old self, cleansed me in His consuming fire. I was born again in the blast meant for evil, but turned to good in me,” she said in a 2004 interview with Tidings, the magazine of Wesley Methodist Church.
Said her Alpha leader: “The love of God touched her deeply, and still touches her deeply.”
“Spiritually re-wired”, Carol made the decision to continue to serve God as a volunteer counsellor, building and encouraging others.
Looking back, Carol realised that on her road to recovery, she “learnt what strength could be, what encouragement meant”.
“I realised I needed to be strengthened and encouraged before I could help others,” said Carol.
On her road to recovery, Carol “learnt what strength could be, what encouragement meant”.
“I learnt to share this with others.
“Surviving the blast helped me realise that things are not always about me. There are people out there who need help.”
Carol believes that she is still a work in progress.
“I’m selfish and still say the wrong things,” she admitted.
“God is showing me that there is another side to being human.
“The overwhelming word is ‘humbled’. God humbled me.”
Read Part 1 and Part 2 of Carol’s story here: