On a seemingly ordinary Monday in Sidoarjo, East Java, Indonesia, the Al-Khoziny Islamic Boarding School became the site of a harrowing disaster that has shaken families and communities across the region. As afternoon prayers echoed through the halls on October 1, 2025, tragedy struck: the building collapsed, trapping scores of young boys beneath concrete and debris. The cause, later confirmed by authorities, was the weight of freshly poured concrete on an upper floor—a construction project gone fatally wrong.
For Dewi Ajeng, the day began like any other. She was at home in Probolinggo, a city two hours away, when a chilling message arrived in her son’s school group chat: there had been "an incident." Her 13-year-old son, Selendra Haikal Rakaditya, was among the students at the boarding school. Panic and dread set in. "I just felt a range of mixed emotions. I was sad, frantic, crying. Then my husband messaged me to confirm the news," Dewi recounted to Al Jazeera. She immediately called a friend in Sidoarjo, urging her to check on Haikal, and set off for the school herself.
By the time Dewi arrived, the scene was chaotic. Large notice boards displayed the names of rescued children who had been taken to various hospitals. "There were six ‘Haikals’ on the lists and I went to every hospital trying to find out if my son was there," she said. In a moment of hope, someone sent her a video from the scene. In the background, she heard a desperate voice shouting, "Mama, mama, mama." Dewi was convinced it was Haikal. She rushed to the site, pleading with search and rescue teams to save her son.
Haikal, it turned out, was trapped in an air pocket beneath the rubble with five other students. He was the second closest to a narrow escape route, but the way out was blocked by the body of a friend who had died in the collapse. The rescue would prove agonizingly slow. For three days—almost exactly 72 hours—Haikal and the others waited in darkness, dust, and fear. Rescue teams managed to create a small shaft, passing bread and water to the boys to keep them alive. Dewi endured the wait with a mother’s anxiety, clinging to hope as each hour passed.
When Haikal was finally pulled from the debris and placed on a stretcher, rescuers advised Dewi not to look at him until he reached the hospital. "When I got there, I don’t even remember what happened, I was crying, screaming. I just kept praying. When I finally saw him, I just thanked God. He had withstood everything for 72 hours. He had made it," Dewi told Al Jazeera. Haikal’s leg had been pinned by a slab of roof, and doctors are now working to restore blood flow to the injured limb. He remains in intensive care, his recovery—both physical and emotional—just beginning.
Haikal later recounted the terrifying moments when the building caved in. He had almost finished afternoon prayers when chunks of ceiling began to fall. A sudden cracking sound was followed by chaos as the structure collapsed. "He said he felt like he was being pulled in all different directions," Dewi recalled. Amid the darkness, Haikal remembered his science classes, where he’d learned to conserve energy in emergencies. He stayed calm, avoided panicking, and prayed regularly, even sitting up for prayers despite his injuries. "He remembered his science classes at the school and how he had been taught to conserve his energy in an emergency situation, so he tried to stay calm and not panic. He couldn’t breathe at first, and he didn’t want to tire himself out. Only later did he call for me," Dewi explained.
Haikal’s resilience was extraordinary. He encouraged his friends to pray and kept spirits up as best he could. Some of the trapped boys fell asleep amid the dust and twisted metal that had once been their classrooms. About 100 students managed to escape the collapse, though many suffered head injuries and broken bones. The immediate aftermath was grim: five students died on the spot, and at least 60 were unaccounted for in the hours following the disaster.
But the heartbreak did not end there. As rescue efforts stretched into days, the official death toll rose. According to the National Search and Rescue Agency, eight more bodies were pulled from the rubble by Friday, October 3, bringing the confirmed number of dead to 13. At least 58 others were confirmed or presumed dead, with dozens of bodies still trapped beneath the debris. Only 14 survivors—including Haikal—emerged from the disaster, their stories marked by trauma and survival against the odds.
Sixteen-year-old Zainul Fatih was another of the lucky few. He lost consciousness when the school collapsed onto him and his friends. When he awoke, he heard their cries for help from behind concrete slabs. He managed to crawl toward the light and escape, but the ordeal left deep scars. "He is still traumatized now, feeling emotionally shaken and refusing to talk to people," his father, Abdus Syakur, told reporters. Zainul and his family remain at a shelter near the school, anxiously awaiting news about his still-missing cousin and others who are unaccounted for.
The slow progress of the search and rescue operation has fueled frustration and grief among relatives. Some stormed the site, desperate for answers and overwhelmed by the agonizing wait. For families like Dewi’s and Zainul’s, the emotional toll is immense. Medical teams have taken buccal swabs from relatives to match their DNA with the deceased, a grim task that underscores the scale of the tragedy.
Haikal’s mother credits his survival to his resourceful personality. She described him as a creative child, always outdoors searching for animals and insects, rarely distracted by digital gadgets. For now, her focus is on his recovery. "He’s a very creative child," she said. When he is well again, Dewi vows to help him start anew. "He can pick any other school he wants to go to, and I will make sure it happens," she promised.
The collapse of the Al-Khoziny Islamic Boarding School has left a community in mourning and a nation grappling with questions about construction safety and oversight. As families mourn their losses and survivors begin the long road to healing, the memory of those three days—of hope, anguish, and resilience—will linger for years to come.
