Observing Post-Tsunami
A Photo Essay
Text and Images by Antje Beyen
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On 26 December 2004, nature seemed to reveal its darker purpose, as if it were a villain by necessity, leaving an arc of destruction thousands of miles apart, from Maldives to the Horn of Africa. In April 2005, I visited the tsunami-affected areas of Thailand and Indonesia to observe first-hand the tedious process of reconstruction following the deadliest disaster in modern history.
Neither words nor pictures can fully describe the incredible devastation, as well as the pain and agony of the victims. A chronicle of everyday life in the tsunami-ravaged regions would record with horror and admiration the monumental task of rebuilding shattered lives and the will to survive of millions of people impacted by the disaster, transitioning to a new life through a combination of community and self support, government assistance and international aid led by the United Nations (see picture above).
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Every day, I heard stories of heroism and survival. Among the people I talked to—fishermen, taxi drivers, hotel workers, waiters, shop owners, doctors, nurses, housewives and children (photo 1)—I discovered a remarkable consistency in their resilience and determination to move on after the disaster.
In Khao Lak, one of the hardest-hit areas in Thailand, fishermen perspiring under the glaring tropical sun used wood donated by the local Rotary Club to build new boats, occasionally casting meaningful stares at the ocean. Everywhere, one sees foreign volunteers assisting in the clean-up of debris, mainly from the resorts demolished by the 16-metre-high waves that went miles inland, severely impacting hundreds of acres of farmland. One of the resorts where some 1,000 foreign tourists perished, however, is still off-limits due to insurance reasons and has yet to be cleaned up.
At a nearby temporary location centre (TLC), I spoke with fishermen from Naem Bakarang who were waiting for a new village under construction some 5 kilometres inland. Some of them have become “cash workers” and others use motorcycles donated by the King to carry traps and fishing gear to their boats. A sign of potential inter-village rivalry, the “sea gypsy” community at the centre seemed more in favour of rebuilding their old village by the sea (photo 3) rather than a new shared habitat, which they compared to “barracks”. On 4 April, I saw Buddhist monks and twenty or so orphaned children conduct a ceremony on the 100th day of the disaster, played out throughout the country, to “calm the spirits” (photo 4).
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Four months after the tsunami, there were still some 1,500 corpses in the adjacent “pathology centre” waiting to be identified, the stench permeating the air. Records were also destroyed and a local Muslim leader informed me that their main task was to ascertain who owned what before the disaster. Terre des Hommes, one of several non-governmental organizations (NGOs) working with the Government of Thailand on post-tsunami developmental project, is assisting in this effort.
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“We need huge investments”, admitted a Thai official I interviewed in Phuket, where little sign of the disaster, save a “low season”, can be found, notwithstanding the amplified music at the perfectly-trimmed sandy white beaches and the tourists snorkelling in the pristine, turquoise waters of the Andaman Sea. Speaking fluent English, he complained of a “second tsunami” caused by “sensationalist” foreign media coverage, which had failed to report that most of Phuket was untouched by the disaster and that tourists had been returning.
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Even at the devastated Hat Kamala, an hour’s drive northwest of Phuket, life was slowly returning to normalcy, despite the panic of another tsunami after the 28 March 2005 earthquake, which caused many people to flee to the hillside. I saw soldiers repairing a school, a Swiss organization building houses, and a Buddhist temple already restored, thanks to private donations. A hotel owner boasted that he had welcomed the first guests after the disaster, after raising 60,000 Euros to rebuild his street “with better electricity than before”. The sight of a family struggling to salvage a boat engine (photo 5) was also a reminder of a resilience that can outlast nature’s occasional fury.
I then visited the Phi Phi island, a whale-shaped tourist hotspot completely pulverized by the tsunami that hit exactly at the connection time for ferries loaded with passengers. The clean-up is organized by Hands on Thailand and Help International, as well as a specialized diving team sent by the French Government to haul tons of heavy debris, including bungalows, from the water. According to Andrew Hewate, owner of a local diving shop, the Government had not yet given him and some 700 Muslim inhabitants presently staying at camps in Krabi permission to rebuild, indicating instead that Phi Phi might be turned into an exclusive resort area. I concluded that in both Thailand and Indonesia, the tsunami had radically altered local government policies and priorities, and that post-disaster plans were still in a formative stage.
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On 8 April, I arrived at Banda Aceh’s small airport and was immediately struck by the flurry of relief activities, with tons of supplies still on the ground waiting to be transported (photo 6). The taxi driver pointed at the red flags right outside the airport marking a mass grave “for 80,000 people”, a prelude to the surrealistic sight of what is now dubbed “city of dead”, still awash in debris and stench, with numerous boats lodged on top homes and circled by countless tsunami-formed ditches and lagoons (photo 7), reminding me of Dante’s Inferno. I visited the town’s main hospital, one of the few buildings gutted by the ferocious waves but still standing, and the mass graves next to it where patients and hospital workers are buried (photo 8).
But life goes on. People can be seen fishing, weaving, praying, meeting and relaxing; the devastated beaches have turned into hotspots for migratory birds, and a giant generator ship sitting in the middle of town is considered manna from heaven since it is still operational. Since late March, the country has gone from the emergency to the reconstruction phase (photo 9), building 600 homes, in partnership with various United Nations agencies, over 200 aid organizations such as Save the Children, and more than a thousand international volunteers.
After just a week at the UN camp, I was impressed by the efficiency and magnitude of United Nations operations, organized by the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, throughout the Aceh province, notwithstanding security concerns, likely to continue for the next three years. For example, the World Food Programme (WFP) has been distributing food via various NGOs, such as Care and World Vision, to over half a million survivors in 13 districts (photo 10), the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) played a leading role in providing schooling (photo 11), and the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) put up 35,000 tents in 61 TLCs (photo 12). And thanks to the efforts of the World Health Organization (WHO), which distributed 6,000 malaria kits and vaccinated thousands, cases of malaria in Aceh have significantly decreased. A common topic of conversation at the UN camp concerned the balance between short-term survival and long-term planning.
At the TLC in Waskifa Karya, I spoke with many survivors, including Mulyni Sitibaceh, a fisherman’s wife who lived in a tent in Lomna, west of Aceh, before moving along with 600 others to the wooden shelters where she and her family could stay for up to three years. Her expression switched from calm to sadness as she recounted how she had lost her two boys and all her husband’s family members. A camp official, speaking on the condition of anonymity, talked about the “bottlenecks”, insufficient coordination between local and foreign Governments and aid agencies, and the continuing wrangling among them. A camp worker also complained that he had not yet been paid.
Finally, I flew to Nias, west of Sumatra, which along with another island called Simeulue had experienced a horrible double shock: another deadly earthquake on 28 March 2005 that followed the tsunami calamity, together destroying nearly 80 per cent of buildings in the centre town of Gunung Sitoli. A logistical nightmare, the island’s southern tip has gone up two metres and new islets have sprung up, making water transport extremely difficult. Relief efforts took place using Singaporean helicopters, an American medical ship and an Australian hospital ship. A large supply of food and material was brought in by UN organizations: food distribution by WFP; tents, sleeping mats and mosquito nets by UNHCR; medical teams and medicines by WHO; and school material by UNICEF.
The road from the airport was still being repaired and helicopters were landing in a schoolyard. I was particularly struck by the sight of a mother sitting atop rubble staring at a coffin containing her little girl’s body (photo 13). Nearby, an army crew used front-end loaders to clear away debris (photo 14). The Governor of North Sumatra was concerned that international aid might have been thwarted because it reminded people of the tsunami disaster, and appealed for more helicopters to reach the remote areas. When asked about what he thought were the most important long-term problems, the Governor pointed at local businesses leaving the island, the “aid fatigue” and the need for an early-warning system in the Indian Ocean. He was then interrupted by a mild aftershock. |
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Antje Beyen is an independent photographer and documentary filmmaker based in Essen, Germany. A selection of her works—covering Tibet, India, China, Africa and the Middle East—can be seen at her website (www.beyen.net). |
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