She has lived a day-to-day existence in a camp in Meulaboh, Aceh, for the past three years and eight months.

Understandably, her heart sinks a little each time a neighbour moves out - to a new house, most likely built by a foreign or local non-governmental organisation (NGO).

Her family of four are 'internal refugees', or internally displaced persons (IDPs).

They - and 56 other households - are waiting for an NGO to relocate them. Already, 243 others have since been relocated

In 2005, all were given shelter in the hastily built Lapang IDP camp after the tsunami in December of the previous year destroyed their homes.

'Every time a neighbour leaves, my children will ask when our turn is,' said the 32-year-old fruit-stall owner, her eyes turning red.

Home for now is a wooden hut simply furnished with a television set and some cabinets.

But with the NGOs in Meulaboh expected to pull out by next April, she is worried.

'Most of the NGO projects are done, but there are people like us who are not helped,' Madam Sarifa said in Bahasa Indonesia. 'What is going to happen when they leave?'

Since 2005, NGOs have gone into Meulaboh to build roads, schools, hospitals, homes and other facilities.

The Singapore Red Cross Tidal Waves Asia Fund alone has pumped $58.8 million into 45 projects in Indonesia.

Habitat for Humanity Singapore built 1,700 homes at a cost of about $15 million.

Singapore also donated a $5.5 million pier to replace Meulaboh's wrecked jetty.

Two weeks ago, Mercy Relief wrapped up its relief efforts in Aceh after completing nine projects amounting to $6.5 million.

When The Sunday Times visited Meulaboh two weeks ago, the town appeared to be on its way to recovery.

There were thousands of newly painted zinc-roof houses, built by the NGOs.

Children, dressed in red and white uniforms, attended classes in newly built schools.

Shops and food outlets have re-emerged. In fact, many eateries have sprung up, catering to the NGO workers.

In the town centre, two rebuilt hotels accommodate businessmen looking for good investments and humanitarian workers checking out Meulaboh's progress.

Villagers found work with the NGOs too. Contractors were hired for the rebuilding, suppliers brought in construction materials, and translators and drivers were in demand.

But the flipside is that, with the NGOs leaving, many Acehnese have since become jobless.

Meulaboh's government section head T.A. Dadeksh, who told The Sunday Times this, added that two restaurants and a supermarket catering to NGO staff have also closed down.

'The reconstruction brought in a lot of money to Meulaboh, but now the people will go back to their old jobs before the tsunami,' he said.

'They won't be able to make money like they did in the past three years.'

Previously, many Acehnese were fishermen, farmers and shop owners.

Although the town outwardly now looks improved, many of the thousands of houses built do not meet standards and remain without electricity and sanitation.

'Many drinking wells are right beside the toilets,' said liaison official Edward Langton of Singapore's Mercy Relief. 'Many of these people still need help.'

At Babussalam, a school-cum-orphanage, 16-year-old Marwati is thankful for the new home she is in. She lost both parents to the tsunami.

Since then, Marwati and her 13-year-old sister have been staying at Babussalam. They share a room with three other girls.

'Many people died in the tsunami. I want to be a doctor one day, to help people who are sick,' she said.

It is estimated that a quarter of the 40,000 people in Meulaboh died as a result of the tsunami.

One villager who lived right by the sea, Mr Ridwan, 41, saw his house washed away. When the tsunami struck, he and his wife, then four months pregnant, escaped inland on their scooter. But his uncle's family next door was not that lucky.

For two years, the couple stayed in an IDP camp with their newborn.

They have now moved back to where their old house stood, barely 8m from the sea.

'We own this land and we grew up right here. We cannot just leave the place,' said Mr Ridwan, who owns a labour company with 150 men.

About 300 other families, like Mr Ridwan's, have moved back to the seafront area because of land deeds or memories they can't leave behind.

During high tide, the waves wash right up to their doorsteps.

'I am not afraid. When there is an earthquake, I will check. If the water recedes, if it does like during the tsunami, then we will run,' he said.

Those who have gone back live on tenterhooks.

Mr Dadeksh said that when an earthquake struck the town last year, many, thinking it heralded a second tsunami, fled.

For Madam Sarifa, her dream now is to move out of the IDP camp and into a house where her family can rebuild their lives.

But she quickly added: 'I don't want the house to be near the sea.'

mavistoh@sph.com.sg