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Aji Styawan

With the elevation complete, Sundari, 48, prays at her husband's grave. Previously, villagers could only visit their relatives’ graves at low tide or by boat. The dead tree stands testament to what was their before the land began to disappear.

At the end of an operation that took 25 days, the cemetery had been raised five feet and the tombstones had been returned. Within a day the bamboo fence, battered by the tide, had begun to fall apart. The villagers replaced it with another, reinforced with nets—but they worry now, after all their hard work, how long the cemetery will remain safe.

Using hand tools and their bare hands, villagers spread and level the mud dug up from the surrounding seabed by the excavator.

Sularso carries his relative's tombstone away from the cemetery. He later gave it a good scrubbing.

Misbah pulls out his relative’s tombstone before the cemetery is raised.

Villagers install a bamboo fence that will retain the mud added to the cemetery and keep it from washing away. The excavator worked for three days—but the villagers did most of the work to raise the cemetery themselves.

An excavator dispatched by the local government begins digging mud from the seabed to elevate the cemetery. For the villagers of Timbulsloko, saving the cemetery preserves their connection to their past—and is a symbol of respect for their ancestors.

As many as 500 people have been buried over the decades in 150 graves at the cemetery.

Mulyono writes his relative's name on the temporary marker that will replace the tombstone while the cemetery is being raised.

As they prepare to add mud to the top of the cemetery to raise it above the high tide line once again, villagers mark the locations of the graves with bamboo sticks.