People, People Who Need People...

Pictures of the Tsunami

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!!!

In the Eye of the Storm

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

They scrubbed like Cinderella

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

$62.17

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

Scintillating Smiles

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

What can I tell you about tsunami?

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

A Field of Rice and Raisins

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?