Hand in Hand - Tsunami 2005

People, People Who Need People...

2005-04-17T16:53:00.000-07:00

Barbara Streisand sang a song "People, people who need people, are the luckiest people in the world..."I never understood these words until I felt them in my heart leaving family and friends behind. Leaving Banda Aceh was again that similar heart feeling. It’s so easy to say hello and increasingly difficult to say goodbye to people in my life. The tsunami brought devastation to the lives of millions around the world, if not directly by taking lives, indirectly by leaving those to continue the burden of pain and destitution. Being privileged to assist people in Indonesia gave me a tremendous opportunity to fill my own heart with the ecstasy of needing and loving people. I am grateful beyond expression for this moment in my life. To all the people who supported me over the past many months I thank you. To all the people who supported the relief effort emotionally and financially, thank you. To the Indonesian people who hosted us and honored our efforts to help them, thank you. And for all the people who have made me who I am today, thank you. I'm a person who needs people and I'm the luckiest person in the world!!!

$62.17

2005-03-09T20:08:00.000-08:00

March 9, 2005
The day is just beginning and it is a good one already. It doesn’t take much to make the sunshine on a cloudy day. My driver has been increasingly depressed. He is a closed man and offers nothing that would leave him vulnerable and unnecessarily raw. He confided to a best friend this week and apparently cried enough to create a tsunami. Something profoundly is out of place. His wife, two children, mother and father were killed in the tsunami. He is homeless now and faces the stark reality that none of his loved ones will be coming home. I cannot conceive of losing so many close people to me all at once. How does the heart compartmentalize the pain? I simply don’t know. I asked him what it would take for him to help him. He shared that his license to work as a driver was lost in the tsunami and that he cannot afford to replace it. “How much is it,” I asked? $62.17. The sum total for permission to drive and support his life and build another future is a mere $62.17. Done. I put the money directly into his hand and it was like the amazement the people must have felt when the Red Sea parted in biblical times or when the Berlin wall fell in modern times. It was the best $62.17 investment I had ever made in another person’s future.

Back to follow up on Save The Children’s assessment of the orphanage. They happily informed me that they indeed saw the facility and have committed to clean up, painting and sewage disposal along with minor repairs. “When will you start,” I asked? “We started already, they announced! Happy, too happy. I am too happy. With their assistance, I will be able to use the money I have from donations for other things that are needed. I received sanitary napkins, toothbrushes and toothpaste, soap, toilet brushes, gloves, shovels and boots from another organization whose name I don’t mention because they are too shy to be known for their stepping out of the box to do the necessary. Today is like an old fashion Campbell’s soup commercial? MM MM good!

Later in the day, distribution. The children lined up respectfully and extended their hands as if receiving a diploma from high school graduation. They incline their heads and say reverently Terimah kasih! Thank you. We gave them three bars of soap, a toothbrush and toothpaste. Again, the world opened seemed abundant for a moment for them. The working crew continued shoveling pounds of mud and muck stagnant for the past two months. The orphanage was going to look special, after all. I coordinated a visit of another humanitarian organization who has also committed to making a difference. I am so grateful and encouraged that people go the extra mile to make this difference, too. It is like light in the middle of the night.

Darkness prevailed though when I was told we would not be permitted to paint the boys room rainbow. “You can paint it cream,” the religious leader said. Disdain is all I have for him. Ill wishes and thoughts better left unmentioned filled me to the brim. Good night.
Love,
Cary

What can I tell you about tsunami?

2005-03-04T06:25:00.000-08:00

Dear Everyone,
I apologize for the long absence since I last wrote. Life goes forward here, but electrical shortages, email dispensing and difficulty putting my experiences on paper make for tedious times. I owe you an update now. I sit hugging a frozen bottle of water that I prepared for the occasion as the sweltering heat makes life here excruciatingly uncomfortable at times.

What can I tell you about tsunami? I'm told news coverage about this "biblical" event ended about three weeks after it occurred to make way for more interesting stories. Being here is news
worthy for me. However, it is impossible to qualify and quantify what simply cannot be described in any way. Perhaps, this is why journalists and photographers have lost interest in covering the event. Bodies more bodies and bodies are already redundant. Seen that, done that.
Next. Empty desert looking terrain is now commonplace. The barren look seems to have replaced the previous lush landscape that has now become obsolete. The once-upon-a-time lives that were once there aren't now and anyone new to the area without a frame of reference would see nothing out of the ordinary. So, what is newsworthy?

Seeing the international community organize itself to help these people is something inspiring for me. Different groups are responsible for different pieces of the puzzle and while the full picture isn't clear yet, slowly and steadily some sort of picture is emerging.

Being able to serve is the greatest joy I have in my life. I have a traveling suitcase of tools that
was entrusted to me when I went into medicine and hold it dearly. What can you offer? What skills do you have, what prayers can you offer, what blessings can you send? Try it. It feels ecstatic.

Last week, I bought a lot of art supplies and went to a camp and watched the children have fun. They weren't used to painting with their fingers, but they quickly learned this technique and enjoyed. Unanimously, they all seemed to draw images of the tsunami. The big wave with hundreds of bodies strewn about the water was the image most often drawn. What did they see and how did it affect them?

I am helping an orphanage recover from the tsunami. I wanted to buy them more mattresses so that each child has his/her own bed, but they prefer to sleep together because they fear another tsunami will come. I must add that their fear is not unfounded. It is possible, indeed. There are many tremors here each week and some strong enough to race the heart right out of one's chest, especially when the windows start creaking. Tsuanmi again? Why not? It's happened several times over the past 100 years in this area. So, they prefer the company of their friends tightly nestled together. Maybe I'll get the children shoes to replace the ones washed away by the wave? There are unlimited possibilities for assistance. I'm considering purcharing a sewing machine and computer for the orphanage to give the children a sustainable living when they become of adult and leave the nest. Actually, not all the children are orphans as some have mothers. Often times, the father dies and leaves the mother destitute, forced to surrender her children to others to feed and educate.

Anyway, this is my life in Banda Aceh. If you wish to write me, please do so. Your company is good for me. I'll be here another 5 weeks and it would be nice to hear from you!!!

All good things,
Dr Cary

In the Eye of the Storm

2005-03-31T03:49:00.000-08:00

March 28, 2005

11:40 pm

In the eye of the storm… right now, right now. I can’t hold the telephone. I can’t push the buttons coherently. The phones are blocked. I can’t tell anyone that I’m ok. No one at home or in the team knows where I am. We have no plan of action for tsunami number two. What is going to happen? The roads are completely blocked. We are stuck, can go no where. The streets are filled with people. Police with black uniforms have major machine gun type things in their hands as they patrol the streets in anticipation of looting. It’s frightening. There is chaos and I sit in the car with this computer in my lap wondering if someone will attack me, take the computer and getaway with it. People are traumatized. Their faces are blank states. They look right and left without seeing anything. My driver is freaking out, honking and aggravating everyone on the road. He wants everyone out of his way, out of his sight. No one goes anywhere. People filming, thinking only of taking profit later because live tsunami videos are a hot commodity, in high demand and make a lot of money. Where is everyone fleeing to? There are motor bikes with many people on a single seat stationary in the middle of intersections and no one goes anywhere. Families of four and five are on the bikes as they try to go somewhere. Where are we going? We escape what and where do we escape to? Mass pandemonium with people simply setting off anywhere away from the sea. The driver takes me towards the house, but is this by the water? Is there a tsunami coming? Is this the end in twenty minutes like what happened on the Sunday morning on the twenty-sixth of December? The earthquake shook the world and twenty minutes later, the ocean opened and washed it all away. Twenty minutes we have to get out of here, but where? Where do we run? Is the house near the water? I don’t know where I live. I’ve become complacent depending on the guidance of the drivers who take me here and there and I don’t know how close we are to the water. The three kilometer buffer we had before with well placed houses by the sea is now gone and bare land separates us from it now. So, if the water comes, it might come a little too close or even engulf us in its boneless jaws. We drive toward the house and everyone drives in the opposite direction. The four-lane road is now four lanes going all in the same direction… away from the area my driver is taking me. We are face to face with traffic coming at us head on and I tell the driver maybe to go in the same direction as the people. He doesn’t understand a word I say and I don’t understand a word he says. More and more people are on the street with video cameras, thinking of profit. They watch this massive exodus of thousands of people and no one is going anywhere. My driver is freaking. I’m freaking. I’m freaking that he is freaking. It calms my nerves to type and process my impressions on my computer now.

I was showing a film to the children at the orphanage when it happened. It was 2310 and I had fallen asleep on the table. One of the children awakened me and said “Tsunami, Tsunami.” This is the world they associate with earthquakes. At first, we giggled. The room was tickling our feet. But then the earth got progressively angrier and it wasn’t like the other little donuts we’ve gotten as free rides at the amusement park. Suddenly, it was somehow clear that this one was different and everyone ran down the stairs at the same time into the courtyard away from the potentially lethal structures of concrete. It was difficult making it down the stairs without clutching the sides of the stairwell. I stood in the courtyard now at least a little safer as if it made any difference. Had the buildings crumbled around us, we would have been among the debris, enveloped by it, trampled by it, buried by it. I stood seeing the trees waving from side to side as if gusts of stormy winds were blowing, but there were no winds. It was hard to stand as if the concrete under my feet were a sheet of fabric being pulled from side to side as if in a tug of war, as if I were one teeter taughter with two children competing for attention on both sides. The evening caretaker of the orphanage immediately assembled the children who all sat huddled on the concrete chanting some ancient sounding Muslim incantation. Some children were crying and completely traumatized, while others were cool, calm and collected consoling the other children obviously in pain. They had been here before. Some had lost their families and flashes of them must have been very real again. What more do they have to lose? The new children who have become their families were now possibly going to be taken from them, too. The trees were shaking from side to side. I couldn’t stand without looking like an inebriated drunkard on a sidewalk on a Saturday night. I can’t believe this. I stood holding two of the children who were in shock. The caretaker came menacingly towards me. He was irrational and agitated and angrily waved his arm at me to leave. I wanted to console the children, but it wasn’t the time. He wanted me gone and the children needed all of his attention. They’ve been here and done it before and in this situation only one cook in the kitchen. I left thinking of the children.

What is going to happen? We are on the fault line. We are near the water. Flashing lights everywhere. We are not at all ready for this. We are not prepared. We are without where to go. Is the wave going to come for us now? I don’t know where I am geographically at all. The ground was like jelly. I wonder where we are going. We are in the car and the driver just goes somewhere. He is taking pictures with his mobile telephone. What a mess. I can’t speak with him. I wanted to stay at the orphanage and calm the children, but the director wanted me gone like I never happened. I think he was shocked and trying to handle the children. The children sat on the ground crying.

The police now pass by with flashing lights. Blue flashing lights passing by with loud speakers speaking in Indonesian. I can’t understand anything. They are telling the people something. What are they saying? The driver says we go home so perhaps everything is fine. Military men with guns in one hand and on their mobile telephones that don’t work in the other hand. The systems don’t work. Electricity is out. How can they call an all clear when it hasn’t been yet thirty minutes? Probably nothing will happen, but that’s what they said on the Sunday morning that took nearly half a million people in a matter of minutes. I’m numb. How to prepare for this? Where do people go? They head for the hills away from the water. The streets are lined with people. The streets are packed with people on both sides of the road holding their babies close to them. No one knows what to do anywhere to go. There has yet to be disaster training for the people. The mosques were offering some guidance on the loud speakers. Again, it was in Indonesian and I couldn’t understand. Were they saying to head for the hills or all is clear? Again, how would they know anything? Only minutes have passed and everyone knows an earthquake that size could spark another tsunami. The children at the orphanage were chanting something, some passage again and again. I said the words along with them not knowing what it was. It was some prayer, a prayer asking Allah for safety would make sense. We are all the same. We are all in uncertainty. No electricity. Everything is black. I am nearly home. If the tsunami hits, what will it do? Oh, wow, just waiting for something isn’t nice. The feeling of the jelly earth under my feet with me barely balancing isn’t something a person knows what to do with. It’s a feeling of loss and numbness standing there not knowing, waiting and feeling guilty that mom and dad are going to know about this in minutes and they are going to think that I’m hurt and I feel badly that they are subjected to this fear for their child’s life. We are near home. I think no problem. I think all is ok.

1:42 am I’m home. The driver is gone. No one knows where he is. Apparently, he lost his family in the first tsunami and perhaps his unexplainable behavior was post traumatic stress syndrome’s many faces. I couldn’t understand why he was insisting that we leave the orphanage the minute the earthquake hit. I tried to explain the importance of supporting the orphans. It was obvious they were very traumatized and needed support, but he wasn’t thinking clearly. And his incessant honking at everyone on the road blocked and locked in place like sardines in a closed can only added to the pandemonium and nothing to his safe passage home. He was perhaps freaking out in his own way as I was freaking out in mine. I don’t do well in these natural disasters or any other disaster, come to think of it. Usually, I go to a place after it’s happened. The images on the television of people fleeing some catastrophe was tonight’s scenario. The neighborhood where I live is completely empty. The houses are blackened by the lightlessness of the power outing. The house guard greeted me warmly when I arrived and said that he is the only one who remained in the area because he is a good guard and committed to providing security for the house. I was grateful and impressed. The house is undamaged and everything appears fine. I doubt seriously that a tsunami will roll through, but if it does it must take some time. Where were the people going? I suppose I would be more assertive and leave the city had I experienced the first wave.

Emergency preparedness? No flashlights at arms reach and those that are are either broken or without batteries. The mobile telephone system is down, and if it were up, it wouldn’t matter because I don’t have adequate credit anyway. And the house phone landline service has-been cut because somehow the bill wasn’t paid. The sat phone wasn’t recharged; there are no candles, matches or lights. I managed to contact Karen who said the television is filled with news of the recent earthquake registering 8.5 nearby, but 8.2 in the city of Aceh. Life goes on. I think of the two children under my arms as I tried to comfort them. They were all traumatized, either directly or indirectly. Had the director not ordered me to leave I would be there now. I MUST GO TO SLEEP.
Love, Cary

Jakarta to Banda Aceh

2005-01-14T18:16:00.000-08:00

]January 9, 2005

Complete exhaustion. Day after day without adequate sleep, moving and waiting, searching and yielding to the chaos that defines this place. But it’s lovely and it’s wonderful and it’s a privilege, a real privilege to be part of history that will be remembered by those here now and for a couple of generations to come before it is forgotten like everything else that happens and is forgotten once the generations who witnessed it leave and the ones they told in stories also pass on, too. Then it is something of brief interest mentioned in story books, the natural disaster of biblical proportions they will call it. What to expect, what to see, what to do? It still isn’t clear because the assessment and preparation continue. Let’s back up.

0415 out of the hotel this morning en route to the airport to arrive and meet hundreds of people also packing the plane that is booked to completeness until the end of the week. Where are these people going and what are they going to do? Aid organizations from around the world flood the scene as the tsunami did. Will we leave tragedy in our path? How will this mission unfold and what will happen of the people?

Passing over the hardest hit area, there was a palpable hush in the airplane as passengers became spectators. There was a curiosity to bear witness and a reverence that honored those who died and those who suffer. The calm and hush of the passengers was witness to it all, even while most couldn’t see between and beyond the clouds drifting below us and above the refuse. The landscape looked hill green, tropical and surreal with its seemingly untouched terrain.

A man sat next to me and reeked of fear and self-doubt for coming. He was from American, from the protected enclave of California where the sun shines and where the desert lost its nature to man who dressed it in another robe of royal blue and paraded it down sunshine boulevard. This man was from there. He and his wife were moved to tears watching images of floating corpses and horrored homes that left internally displaced populations from a to z on a small island in Indonesia. They contacted friends and got money donated along with drugs and procured water purifiers, the best in the world, eight of them, pre-destined to be the most valuable “asset” coming to Banda Aceh. The initiatives of private citizens to participate in rehabilitating people’s lives is sensational.

The UN gives daily updates at 5 pm. They cover security status, education, medical services, water and sanitation, logistics and some other categories that are too fatiguing to consider now. Basically, 400 schools were damaged and internally displaced people (IDP’s) occupy the damaged structures preventing schools from opening. The camps are disastrous with people living like gutter rats. They have food donated by the World Food Program (WFP). They also distribute water, I believe. Plastic sheeting is supplied by the UN and now the people all hang out doing nothing while their needs are taken care of. What efforts are employed to reanimate the people? I wonder if the onslaught of international generosity will make the recipients emotional and physical cripples? It’s easy for people to lose their dignity when hand me downs and handouts are the rules. What impetus is there for people to actively engage when all their needs are met? They need time to heal, but surviving off the kindness of strangers doesn’t do much in terms of self-esteem.

Love,
Cary

Blue Plastic Sheeting

2005-01-14T18:25:00.000-08:00

January 10, 2005

Elephant compounds house the elephants that do a lot of the debris clearing. Tractors and other heavy machinery aren’t seen near the city center, mountains of refuse are, however. The rains ruin whatever possibilities were arranged. Camps are washed away and ground zero begins the starting point again and again.

I sit next to life and watch it unveil its mysteries. Finding the sense in it doesn’t take top priority. There are other more pressing needs to attend to. Making sense out of it may come later on, but not now. No time. And what difference does it make because it has happened and because it is happening...it’s still happening in another form. Let’s begin the day. It started at 0515 and 51 seconds. The house shook, the ground shook, and the bed shook. It was like an amusement park on a ride, not frightening, but fun. Connecting the dots spells earthquake, not amusement park ride. It happened too quickly to feel fear, just enough time to feel the elation of the moment. Nothing was ominous other than the after thought of surviving a relatively sustained earth dance. Would another tsunami taunt us? Moments later, the mosque from across the way blared Muslim cries, prayers, I believe, and not calls for help or an alarm system. The chickens then took flight and started with the morning caulk. The day began then.

Driving down the city’s main road, the devastation looks something out of a lunar walk with unrecognizable terrain. The land resembles something out of this world, as if the earth has blemishes, pimples and warts, crevices and pock marks needing medical care in a big way. Strewn to the right and to the left were pieces of nothing recognizable in mud and filth, wood, metal and scraps of whatever mother earth decided to destroy and then regurgitate. Men wore masks to disguise the stench of rotting rot and perhaps bodies. Oh, yes, the bodies. Three bodies wrapped in blue plastic sheeting, that familiar plastic sheeting the aid agencies give to people for their temporary coverings serving as their temporary abodes. These cadavers lay on the side of the road tightly wrapped and away from everyone’s way as workers continue the clean up process. The bodies have been rotting and decomposing since December 26th at 8 am when the tsunami made its way here. Today is January 10, 2005. I can’t imagine the stench or the 15 day post pillage appearance of these people. I drove by in an air-conditioned vehicle as they toiled on the soil outside. I wonder how they feel. Do I dare stop the car and ask them to share what it’s like? Maybe God intentionally gave us different tongues to spare him my useless questions as a foreigner gawks at the unimaginable on the outside. We drove by, but the image of those three people remains fresher than the flesh of them. The last tally of dead was over 225,000, according to a French report that I saw. Now I know that the more accurate version is 225,003.

Our visit to the “camps” was touching. The joy in the hearts of the people was remarkable. A family invited us inside their “house,” which wasn’t even a tent. Metal rods balanced barely that familiar blue plastic sheeting...the same that wrapped the bodies. This family of 7 fortunately housed mom and dad and their 5 boys. They weren’t complaining and asked for nothing more than what they had. They had each other and nothing else mattered. They lost their house, their business, but they still had their generator and their lives, of course. These were relatively affluent people once with comforts. They were privileged people with clean nails, literate and English speaking, and afforded opportunities given to few people in Indonesia. And now they join ranks with the people of the street, the bag mans of the world in the west and the people dressed in blue plastic sheeting here. They smiled radiantly. Out of curiosity, I checked the children’s teeth and found them with caries and immaculate. “Did you use to brush your teeth when you had a home,” I asked? “Yes,” mom answered. “Do you have toothbrushes and toothpaste now,” I continued to inquire. “No,” she answered. “And what about soap. Do you have soup?” “They gave us a bar for thirty people,” she added without a peep of disappointment or judgment. “What do you need? How can we help you?” She hesitated and spoke half words trying to tell me her wish list, “Female things, things female use,” she mumbled uncomfortably. She wanted a bra, some panties and some hygienic napkins. People in Hong Kong wish so much to help. I think I can send them an order for these things that seem so simple and yet would make such a difference. I left this family shaking hands and smiling. No renovation of the soul was needed. There was such gleam in their smiles and resolve in their souls. They were together. Later, they were joined by their cousins, aunties and friends. They were all in this together. And it made it easier to laugh and smile because what more did they need in life. Nothing is more valuable than an auntie, uncle, mommy, cousin, son and daddy. I will bring them toothbrushes and toothpaste, soap and female things given subtly and respectfully.

The camps are lacking basics while at the same time the basics are covered. There is one latrine for 3500 people. The contents of the latrine are sloshing about in the receptacle you’re supposed to sit above. But the poop and urine flow freely. The smell is too much, I’m told, so they go to the river and do the needful. The problem is that they get their water from the same place. And while there are no landmines here, it is like a landmine to leave human waste unattended. Disease is inevitable and expected and without communication and coordination there is little to do, but wait for the next wave of illness, suffering and death. The rains bring the mosquitoes, the mosquitoes bring malaria. Malaria brings death. The trash brings pestilence. The riverbanks bring cholera and amebiasis and giardia and gastrointestinal nightmares that dehydrate and demystify death itself. It could become a commonality among the people in the fields covered by their blue plastic sheeting. Am I a prophet who knows the future? No, 1 and 1 is 2, n’est-ce pas? Throw a ball up and it will come down. I promise you.

The camp on the west side of the road is running out of medicine while the other camp on the east side of the road is bulging at the seams with medicine. I crossed the street and informed the management of each camp of the situation. To date, there has been no communication between the responsible parties of each camp. How do the have a chance?

Love, Cary

Life after Life

2005-01-15T19:11:00.000-08:00

January 16, 2005

The tsunami was a natural disaster that took the lives of hundreds of thousands of people, destroyed millions of people's lives and left entire regions devastated for decades to come. We all know that. And now what we know for the near future is the possibility of disease playing havoc on all the people who survived. Not only do they have to contend with the misery of losing their families and friends, they battle the miserable diseases that reek more human suffering. For non-medical people, I will explain what is now happening in this phase of the recovery effort.

The tsunami decimated villages and infrastructures. The water supply has been polluted by debris and human carcasses and now with so many displaced people living helter-skelter without adequate hygienic conditions, the water supplies further degrade. Mixing human waste into the water system is dangerous because of the many diseases that occur from this combination of affairs. In addition, the current rainy season has made perfect breeding pools of water everywhere for mosquitoes to breed. They carry malaria and the malaria that they carry in Indonesia is sometimes a deadly type. We can take precautions with lotions, use bed nets and take preventive medicines, but the thousands of people outside in tents are exposed and run the greatest risk of being affected.

To address this situation, the World Health Organization and the other aid organizations are helping to initiate an anti-malarial campaign. I went to a training course and learned about the current treatment protocol, insecticide spraying and use of new rapid laboratory diagnostic kits.
My plan this week is to find local partners in the community to begin the spraying of houses. This is most interesting because we can actually keep the mosquito population down this way and prevent disease. I believe it is important to attack before the problem occurs. This is also why improving the hygiene in the camps is so important. When thousands of people live together in crowded conditions problems are inevitable. Limited water supplies, inadequate waste disposal, and a basic lack of public health awareness set the stage for future challenges ahead. Please send your blessings to them.

I'm off to bed.

Sleep well, too.

Hugs, Cary

One plus One equals Two

2005-01-17T04:47:00.000-08:00

January 17, 2005

As the tsunami relief work continues there is an amazing sense of community spirit among the Indonesian people and the international aid workers. Local volunteers from around the country have mobilized their resources to assist their neighbors. There are hundreds of thousands of people without homes and many of them have been adopted by people in the villages who were not affected. I've heard reports that some households have opened their houses and hearts to as many as 24 people. Barriers that once separated people now are no longer separating, but uniting. Food distribution has been going amazingly well and all people from what I can ascertain receive rations. In addition, soap, clothing, toiletries and other essentials are being distributed to the victims. Mental health professionals have been mobilized and they are beginning to work with the people suffering from post traumatic stress problems. Some camps are organizing make-shift schools to continue educating the children and the overall situation improves day by day.

The international humanitarian community is phenomenal as well. Aid organizations from around the world have come and engage rigorously in all activities needed. Currently on the ground, there are dozens of different nationalities who have come to offer support. At today's meeting, teams from Russia, Albania, Sweden, Norway, Holland, Belgium, England, the USA, Spain, the Philippines, Korea, Singapore, Ireland, Hungary, and Germany were present and that only represents a portion of the people who are here. Field hospitals have been established with x-ray and laboratory capacities, ICU and surgical departments. Infectious disease surveillance is aggressively underway and systems are in place to handle any potential epidemics. One organization has assumed responsibility for malarial protection and they are actively spraying all houses in the area against mosquitoes. Toilets are being built, hygiene teams are in place to manage the camps, reconstruction of schools and clinics are underway and with the will of the world magic continues.

I've been in other world tragedies, but for some reason this one has captured the attention and affection of the entire world community. The donations that people have made enables massive efforts to meet the needs of people affected around the world. Everyone's support makes this all possible and it is something phenomenal to witness.

I have gone from camp to camp and talked directly with the people living in the "tented villages." They are strong willed and resilient people and wish to begin their lives again. Their needs are enormous, but with the coordination of all the aid agencies in place, new lives can be made stronger and the sadness we all feel together as a world community can motivate us and strengthen our resolve. This catastrophe has given mankind a chance to work together and help one another as one people. This tragedy has the capacity to mark a new beginning of a new world order of love and cooperation among all of us.

Good night!

Rachmid's Shack

2005-01-25T05:22:00.000-08:00

Jan 21, 2005

Today is a Muslim holiday. People gather at the mosques, pray and share a sacrificed cow among the community. Family and friends gather together and visit one another from house to house as they share bountiful arrays of different foods. Our neighbors invited us to celebrate with them. It's amazing how much conversation can be exchanged with hands, facial expressions, charades and heart.

The people here are so lovely. Everyone smiles greets me with such affection and respect. This area has not been taken by tourism because of political conflicts over the past decade so the people find us novel and intriguing. When I first came, I thought perhaps they would be biased against me for being American, but actually, they hold Americans in high esteem. They know that people from around the world have come to help them and they are hopeful that we will work together them to rebuild their lives.

I went for a walk today, just somewhere, anywhere around the neighborhood. Carefully, trying to identify some key landmarks to retrace my way home, I went exploring for the first time on foot since I arrived. A strolled under the oppressive heat of the sun and admired the neighborhood. The area where I live, about 5 miles from the sea, wasn't affected at all by the tsunami. Beautiful houses line these residential streets. As I wandered about, I was particularly curious about a small shack that was nestled in between grandiose mansions of the obvious more privileged. As I stood before the shack a young woman came out and invited me inside. I thought she was hurt and needed some insistence, but as I approached her, she invited me inside to serve me a dish of food. Once inside, I met her husband and three children and another boy she called "tsunami." His name was Rachmid. We managed to have an entire dialogue using a pen and paper and again the charades with trusty hands and facial expressions. I came to know that she and her husband were very concerned about the welfare of the people hurt by the tsunami. After the wave hit, they went to a local group and asked to adopt a child. Rachmid, 9 years old, had lost his mother and father and siblings. In fact, he had lost all 30 members of his family and was left alone without anyone in his little life. So, these people living in this shack took him as part of their family. Not impressive? Well, the Mr. makes three dollars a day as a driver. They live in a house with one light bulb, one bedroom and a front room, no kitchen, no refrigerator, no bathroom, no nothing, but they did have a radio. We sat in the front room and continued our charades. When I asked them how they could consider taking in another child when they didn’t have enough for themselves with the salary of three dollars a day, they simply said they must help this child who suffered so much. I asked if they had toothbrushes and they showed me three with bristles going horizontally. I asked if they had soap and I was shown a pill sized piece that was shared among them all.

I excused myself and went to the corner shop and bought toothbrushes of every color, toothpaste, peanuts, pens and paper, soap and detergent. Because of the holiday, all other shops were closed so truly speaking Santa couldn't do his thing...yet. But rest assured, these people will be touched by the hand of God. Some people gave me money in Hong Kong before I left on this mission. They asked me to use my judgment. I can't imagine anything higher than to let these people help Rachmid. But it isn't about Rachmid; it's about the poorest of the poor stepping forward and asking to have the opportunity to serve another person in need. Returning to the shack, I asked some neighbors living in fancy houses with cars, shops and gold ornaments, if they also adopted a Rachmid. They said that they didn't have enough money to meet their own needs let alone adopt a tsunami child. I asked them how it was possible that the people in the shack adopted Rachmid and the people in the mansions didn’t have enough to do the same. No one answered my rhetorical question. A shack that would not be inhabitable in the west now houses six people proudly. They will have a fan to squelch the sweltering heat and I will buy them some mattresses and some more household supplies. I will do what I can to honor these people who have so selflessly touched a little boy's life.

Good night

Sealed in my Air-Conditioned Car

2005-01-26T20:25:00.000-08:00

When I think that I've got things under control and I feel firmly comfortable and confident, I suddenly stumble across a crack in the road that sends me into a funk and contraction. Driving down the same roads day after day you'd expect to find monotony in the scenery of the insane. Buildings hanging by a hinge from the earthquake, caved in foundations as if built in quick sand, roofs corrugated at the seams and debris bound up like a gorilla's bowel movement… stenchy, mushy and mucky. The mud and solid soot from the bowels of the sea is something like an oil spill as it suffocates all inanimate and once animate now inanimate debris. Dead bodies line the road still in different colored plastic sheeting bags. The stench is covered by facial masks that the custodial workers wear. I drive by it all in a sealed and air-conditioned car watching with disbelief through the window. I don't need to smell the smells. I don't need memories of this stench. When I leave here, let it be gone and done with. Let me be effective now and give the most possible, but then leave it when I leave. I don't need to carry this back with me.

What is so remarkable is the shear scope of the devastation. Hundreds of miles of shoreline are gone, sunken in the sea, swallowed by it leaving nothing but ruin in its path. Some villages are without a single dwelling. Ninety per cent of the population has been killed in some areas. Today, I explored affected areas on the outskirts of the city. To date, most of the clean up is focused on the city center. What I saw cannot possibly be described. Villagers pick meticulously through the wreckage looking for perhaps trinkets, but there is nothing resembling anything useable in any way, shape or form. Nothing is left salvageable.

Why was today a great day? Well, it's a feeling. I see such tremendous moments that touch profoundly the fabric of the soul itself. An old woman, frail and sinewy drudged on the street in under an obsessively oppressive hot sun. I stopped my driver and gave her some money. Then a bit farther down the road another little fellow needs me to follow so I gave him money, too. Let them have a respite from a hard life for a while.

I then went to a mobile clinic that we are supporting and scoured the city in search of medical supplies. I found the obvious sources and then went into the nooks and crannies looking for more. The city is still dysfunctional with most shops closed or destroyed. The ones that have managed to reopen have practically nothing of interest or value to sell; something like the Eastern block countries during Communism. There is nothing to buy and when something is there it is usually so unappealing that it's best to keep looking for some breakthrough down the road.

The Danish emergency rescue team has set up a hospital for orthopedics where perhaps the best orthopedic surgeon on the planet resides. He is a man with a heart of a saint and cares for his patients beyond what one would consider normal in anyway. He holds people's attention through his profound affection and love, and shows great respect for all people. He inspires me.

The Danes set up a mobile hospital where they care for 40 patients with fractures, amputations and infected wounds. One man without a leg was profoundly depressed finding no further reason to live. He'd lost everything and everything minus everything didn't leave him much to hold onto for the future. So, why stick around. I approached his bed and with the help of a translator I worked at finding a way inside to give him some hope. I promised that he would have a new leg and that he would walk and no one would even know that he was without leg. His battered face was still swollen while his hip was pinned many times in the intact appendage to the left. "You will have a leg, I promise. If no organization will give you one, I will. I will buy you a leg myself," I promised him.

While walking around one of the camps for displaced people, my driver spotted someone he knew from his village. He sat with her and they talked about their ordeals. They went systematically through the events of their recent lives and identified who had been lost or killed by the tsunami. They were comforted by each other's stories of loss. It fascinated me to watch them together. Neither could do anything for the other, but having company to deal with the pain is very healing.

Love,
Cary

A Field of Rice and Raisins

2005-02-09T01:42:00.000-08:00

From around the world, word has it that the tsunami disaster is no longer mentioned in the daily press. Television coverage has stopped and the world's attention is onto bigger and better, more novel and interesting events. The people's lives here remain relatively unchanged and their misery only magnifies itself as they begin to reflect and repeatedly wake up with the same recurrent reality. In time, they will understand that this is the real thing, not a dream, nightmare or figment of anyone's imagination. This is the real thing. And when they've adequately convalesced and they go back to their homes to find absolutely nothing, I cannot imagine how they will begin again. It's not about replanting a bum crop or a field of rice or raisins that needs recultivating. They are no fields. There is nothing. How will they feed themselves until nature decides to replenish the stores and return from her sabbatical? Today, I worked hard liaising, coordinating, programming, planning and educating. I really enjoy finding solutions. The hospital ward continues to inspire me as I watch people work tirelessly. The Danish staff is compassionate and competent. The local staff is dedicated and gentle, caring and present. My translator, Dina, stepped forward and visited the patients, as well. Yesterday, she was withdrawn and uninvolved. Her primary concern was going to the mosque to pray. I told her that God in action is more important than prayer at the mosque. Serving people in pain, in need is a privilege God gives us. Turning our backs on these people doesn't appear to me to be God's understanding or will. Today, she sat and spoke with people in pain and in need. I contacted some organizations today looking for prosthetic legs for the patients who lost limbs in the tsunami. At this time, there is no system for this, but there will be and if not, I will get the funding for these people. The patient from last night who hadn't smiled since the dreaded wave was smiling. His family was so grateful and expressed their delight because their loved one saw some light knowing that he will be held and cared for. In addition, I am working on trying to find wheelchairs for the people to be more mobile. The sky is the limit here. Any opportunity to give must be seized. What more can I say?

Scintillating Smiles

2005-03-08T04:48:00.000-08:00

March 8, 2005
It seems to be a glorious day today. One step forward and ten steps backwards has been the rule working here, but today, I made a leap in the right direction that supersedes all the other discrepancies placed in my path along the way. I'm on a role, riding the waves from the top today. I have to seize this moment and write a brief note to you all.

In addition to supporting some local health facilities and bringing them back to some functionality, I got involved in two local orphanages that have been intentionally or unintentionally forgotten in the search and rescue mission of the international community. The emergency phase ended days after the tsunami hit, though on paper, the emergency phase officially ends March 26th. In this current recovery phase, people are busy establishing themselves and securing ways of remaining in the country to continue with their intended work. No one is sure what the Indonesian government will decide as to the future of the many international aide workers here to offer their services. Indonesia has been relatively independent from international condemnation over the years and it is this independence and confidence that leaves people clueless as to their next move. We are now in watch and wait mode.

The orphanage has taken my attention because of the deplorable conditions facing the children's daily lives. Already a disadvantaged little people, they deserve more than a barn like structure. And they shouldn't be ignored because they are pre-tsunami victims. I brought my boss to visit the facility and he has shown some interest in finding some solutions. I've also asked a number of other organizations to make some offering and I've gotten toiletries and towels, rice and detergent so far. I want their barn to look like a room, one that pleases them when they wake up in the morning. I went to buy them a toilet today, but then I realized that they truly prefer the squat position as is the Indonesian way. I want them to have adequate lighting and a mirror to see themselves and celebrate life with a smile that they can see. Last evening, I brought them some detergent and it was lovely seeing them excited over such a simple offering. And today, someone wonderful from Hong Kong made a donation from the heart. I never spoke with her directly, but someone we have a communication through the soul that makes life itself live. MMMM good. I'm happy. I will be able to buy them some special things and I will take pictures and let their smiles be seen by all.
From a happy person today
Cary

They scrubbed like Cinderella

2005-03-17T17:55:00.000-08:00

Hello Everyone,
March 26th is officially the date set by the government to inform the international community that the emergency phase is over. The government has thanked us and the entire global family for their help and asked those remaining in country to allow the Indonesian people continue with their work of rebuilding their futures. The government and military have been very hospitable and very flexible with the onslaught of foreigners and foreign militaries in their country. What marks this disaster is the unprecedented outpouring of people's hearts and love,

willingness to serve and generosity. I believe nearly every country in the world has offered assistance in one form or the other. It is this oneness of all people regardless of artificial differences that made this mission so special for me. I still have a few more days here, but I wanted to give you a progress report on the orphanages.

I've found five of them each with their own issues and problems. But the children are the same in each, filled with life, light and love. I've taken many photos of them and you will see the glisten. My intention is to help give the children a respectable place to call home. Many live on wooden planks without mattresses or even straw mats, others sleep on sheetless mattresses filled with dust, dust mites, mold, lice and scabies. I would have assumed that the children would have been the first benefactors of the tsunami relief, but they were mistakenly forgotten. I've been the cranky wheel that gets greased and silenced by action. The phenomenally kind-hearted Singaporeans organized a measles vaccination program and screening physicals yesterday and distributed radios, fabrics and other toys to the children. They also bought a refrigerator for the kitchen and donated many food items to fill the fridge. Now I must figure out how to find electricity to run the fridge. I gave the children a lecture about their untidy rooms and the unclean condition of their orphanage. I told them that they must clean in order for me to help them and today...magic. They scrubbed like Cinderella. They even swept the dirt trying to make it look more visually aesthetic. And I in turn, delivered paints of every color for them to color their beds and closets. The director said they could only use one uniform color. I told him to stick to his office and to let the children create. He agreed in exchange for some colored paint for his room, too. A contractor came and we will begin making magic. There is a lot to be done and I'll keep you posted.

Ciao,

Cary

Hand in Hand

2005-01-06T18:56:00.000-08:00

Dr. Cary has volunteered to go to Indonesia and has been chosen by Merlin, a British non-governmental organization, to go into the disaster zone to administer medical aid. This email is an appeal for anyone who wants to donate to the relief efforts and have a real experience of making a difference in the world. How would that happen? As we all know, the tsunami disaster has directly or indirectly affected the lives of all people. No one was untouched. You have watched this in horror and asked yourselves, what can I do? I have no special skills. How can I help? But I can give a few dollars so that the people in the field can to do their job. Here is your chance to join Hand in Hand to make a difference in another person’s life.

Dr. Cary is a physician who has already been front line in numerous fields to help those in greatest need including the Rwandan genocide, the civil war in Angola and India’s devastating earthquake in Gujarat. And now he will go to the most devastated areas hit by the tsunami in Banda Aceh province in Indonesia where people have yet to receive any humanitarian aid.