Indonesia’s government was slow to lock down, so its people took charge

Cilacap is famous for its fishing industry, but many of its fishermen are now staying on shore to save the operational coast because demand has fallen

Two women ride the suburban commuter train in Jakarta, the epicenter of the pandemic in Indonesia with nearly 4,000 confirmed cases.

Amira, left, and her brother David, decided to leave Jakarta for their hometown in Sumatra with her son, Aprilio, until the pandemic subsides.

Two health workers at a drive-thru rapid testing site in Kemayoran, Jakarta, organised by a local start-up.

Makeshift food stall at the deserted Parangtritis Beach at the southern coast of Yogyakarta. A popular tourist attraction, Parangtritis has been virtually empty after the first case was detected in Indonesia by early March.

A sign and a wooden barricade declare a small village around Purwodadi, Central Java closed to outsiders as many communities have instituted hyperlocal lockdowns.

The number of people visiting Cepuri Parangkusumo, a popular pilgrimage site on the southern coast of Yogyakarta, has dropped sharply because of the pandemic, but caretaker Surakso Widarso still tends to it every day.

A convenience store clerk in Bandung wears a mask and stands behind a plastic screen to reduce the risk of contracting COVID-19.

Business has dried up for Sigit, a portrait artist at Parangtritis Beach, a popular tourist attraction on the south coast of Yogyakarta. He said the beach has been deserted for the last two months.

Workers bury a suspected COVID-19 victim in a burial ground reserved for pandemic casualties. Reuters reported that more than 2,200 Indonesians have died with acute symptoms of COVID-19, but they have not been recorded in the government’s official tally.

Workers carry the coffin of a person suspected to have died from COVID-19 to a dedicated burial ground at the Pondok Ranggon Public Cemetery Complex in East Jakarta. No relatives were allowed at the burial.