Putra Heights victims deserve dignity

I WRITE not as a political observer, nor as an interested bystander, but as a family member of one of the victims of the Putra Heights incident in April – a tragedy that upended lives, erased homes and left families grappling with the slow, uneven process of rebuilding.

I attended the recent “Majlis Serah Kunci” organised by the Local Government Ministry, hopeful that the ceremony would mark a dignified closure to months of hardship.

Instead, what unfolded felt uncomfortably like a stage production, with the residents still nursing wounds, cast as grateful spectators to a script written entirely for applause.

Let us be clear: no one begrudges genuine assistance. The residents, my family included, appreciate every party that has contributed, whether financially, operationally or emotionally.

Rebuilding homes takes resources; rebuilding lives takes compassion. What rankles is not the support but the spectacle – the unmistakable air of self-congratulation that permeated the event.

From the moment the ceremony began, it became evident that the narrative belonged not to the victims but to those on stage.

One may almost forget that several other parties had also contributed significantly and in the millions to the rebuilding efforts.

But in the grand choreography of that morning, their roles were mysteriously edited out. Credit, apparently, is a limited commodity.

The most uncomfortable moment, however, came with the video presentation.

One may assume a “serah kunci” event would honour resilience, celebrate rebuilding and gently usher families towards closure.

Instead, the video lingered gratuitously on scenes of devastation, charred homes, shattered belongings and the raw pain of the aftermath.

If the intention was to inspire gratitude, the effect was quite the opposite.

It reduced suffering to symbolism and trauma to a storytelling tool.

For families who lived the devastation, the experience was not cinematic.

It was not footage to be replayed for dramatic effect; it was the day everything changed, the moment security vanished, the beginning of months spent navigating uncertainty and bureaucracy.

It is worth noting that many residents’ letters and complaints went unanswered for months.

Follow-ups were made, doors were knocked on and emails were sent into the void.

Assistance came, yes, but often slower than needed and only after prolonged pleas. Yet, the event glossed over these uncomfortable truths.

The homes handed over are appreciated but even that carries a nuance the ceremony conveniently omitted.

The replacement houses are smaller than those that were lost.

For some families, cherished memories built over years were reduced to rubble overnight.

No ribbon-cutting ceremony can fully compensate for that, and certainly not one delivered in a tone that bordered on patronising.

What struck me most was the atmosphere in the hall. The residents were polite – they are, after all, grateful for the assistance – but beneath the applause was a quiet discomfort.

Many felt the event was less about closure and more about claiming credit.

An unspoken expectation hovered in the air as though the residents ought to be perpetually indebted for the homes they received, grateful not only for what was given but for the opportunity to publicly validate the narrative of heroism.

Things happen – accidents, tragedies, failures of systems or circumstances. People recover at different paces. Gratitude is real and so is fatigue.

No one asked for perfection, only sincerity. But sincerity is built on humility, and humility was in short supply.

The residents of Putra Heights did not attend the ceremony to become political accessories.

They attended because they survived something unimaginable, endured months of emotional strain and were finally receiving the keys to a new beginning.

They deserved a ceremony that honoured them – not one that used their pain as a backdrop for a victory lap.

A Concerned Family Member of a Putra Heights Victim