As the sun beat down on Sidoarjo in Indonesia’s East Java province on Friday, recovery crews worked tirelessly, their faces etched with exhaustion and grief. The task before them was grim: to pull more bodies from the rubble of the century-old Al Khoziny Islamic boarding school, which had collapsed suddenly during afternoon prayers on Monday, September 29, 2025. The disaster, which struck without warning, has left a community in mourning and raised urgent questions about building safety and oversight in Indonesia’s vast network of religious schools.
By late Friday, October 3, the confirmed death toll had risen to 13, according to Indonesia’s National Disaster Mitigation Agency (as reported by Reuters). The search for survivors continued, but hope was fading with each passing hour. More than 50 students—mostly boys aged 13 to 19—remained unaccounted for beneath slabs of concrete and twisted steel. The building, known locally as a pesantren, had been undergoing renovations when it caved in, trapping hundreds of students who had gathered in the prayer hall.
“I stopped praying and fled when I felt the floor shaking,” recalled 13-year-old survivor Rizalul Qoib, who escaped with only a minor gash to his head. Speaking to the Associated Press, Rizalul described the terrifying moment the roof collapsed: “Suddenly the building collapsed, the debris of the roof fell on my head, my face.” In the darkness, he heard someone shouting, “this way, this way,” and followed the voice until he found a narrow gap in the rubble. “I just followed the light,” he said, his voice trembling with the memory.
The disaster unfolded with shocking speed. According to multiple reports, the school’s foundation failed during illegal renovation work that was adding two additional floors to the original two-story structure—without proper permits or engineering oversight. Police and disaster officials told the Los Angeles Times and Associated Press that the old foundation was simply unable to support the weight of the new concrete floors. When the concrete was poured, the structure gave way, sending the roof crashing down on the hundreds of students below.
Female students, who had been praying in another part of the building, managed to escape unharmed, survivors told reporters. Most of those trapped were boys in grades seven to twelve, their ages ranging from 12 to 19. The collapse occurred during afternoon prayers, a time when the prayer hall would have been filled to capacity.
Initial rescue efforts were frantic and desperate. Rescuers dug through the debris by hand, calling out the names of missing students and listening for any signs of life. But as the hours passed and hopes of finding survivors dwindled, authorities made the difficult decision to bring in heavy machinery. By Thursday, October 2, excavators equipped with jackhammers were being used to break up and remove the massive slabs of concrete that entombed the victims.
“Every family of the victims has given their blessing if the heavy equipment gets in there and disturbs the bodies beneath the rubble,” said Suharyanto, the head of Indonesia’s disaster mitigation agency, as quoted by Reuters and NBC News. This decision, while heart-wrenching, was necessary after rescuers, using sensors and even digging tunnels, found no signs of life among the ruins. Thirty ambulances were prepared on site, and cranes were deployed to speed up the excavation process.
By Friday evening, the stench of decomposing bodies hung in the hot air—a grim reminder of the tragedy’s human cost. Two of the bodies recovered that day were found in the prayer hall, while another was discovered near an exit, suggesting a desperate attempt to escape. Many of the survivors who were rescued suffered serious head trauma and broken bones; at least fourteen were receiving medical treatment as of Friday, according to the disaster agency.
The scale of the disaster has shocked Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim-majority country. According to the country’s religious affairs ministry, Indonesia is home to about 42,000 pesantren, serving some 7 million students. These Islamic boarding schools are a cornerstone of religious and educational life across the archipelago, but the tragedy at Al Khoziny has thrown a harsh spotlight on the risks of unregulated construction and inadequate oversight.
Authorities say the Al Khoziny school had been in operation for more than a century, but its age and the unauthorized renovations proved to be a fatal combination. “The old building’s foundation apparently was unable to support two floors of concrete and collapsed during the pouring process,” police told the Associated Press. School officials have not yet commented publicly on the incident or the decision to proceed with the renovations without proper permits.
Rescue efforts have been complicated not only by the scale of the collapse but also by the emotional toll on families and first responders. Parents of the missing students, many of whom had traveled from distant provinces to enroll their children in the prestigious school, waited anxiously at the scene for news. The decision to use heavy equipment was made only after families gave their consent, a testament to the deep cultural and religious sensitivities involved.
As the search continued into Friday night and was expected to wrap up by the end of Saturday, October 4, the community’s grief was palpable. The tragedy has sparked calls for stricter enforcement of building codes and greater oversight of school construction projects, especially in older institutions. With so many pesantren across Indonesia, the disaster at Al Khoziny has served as a wake-up call for both government officials and religious leaders.
For those who survived, the memories of that fateful afternoon will linger. “I was lucky to have gotten out with only a minor gash to my head,” Rizalul said, his words echoing the gratitude—and the trauma—felt by so many. For the families of the missing, hope has given way to mourning, as the reality of the disaster becomes painfully clear.
In the days to come, as recovery crews complete their grim task and the community gathers to mourn the dead, the questions raised by the tragedy at Al Khoziny will demand answers. How could such a catastrophe happen in a place meant to nurture and protect? And what must be done to ensure that no other school suffers a similar fate? For now, Sidoarjo grieves—and waits.
