A lighter note?

The tsunami was a serious event, where many people lost their lives, I don't mean to make light of it, but I have to tell a slightly strange story that happened in relation to it. For christmas (just before the tsunami) I was given a wasgij. A wasgij is a jigsaw puzzle except that the picture you make when you put the pieces together is a picture of what the people on the cover of the box can see (not an actual picture of the front of the box). So you don't know what the puzzle is of until after you have done it. I had started the jigsaw the day I got it, but when I got back to Australia after going to Indonesia, I completed the puzzle I had been given. It was a picture of a tsunami....

It was all a little odd.

Summarised

I can't paint a picture
I can't say the words
To tell you all that I have seen
To repeat all I have heard

An endless sea of destruction
Death that's all around
The struggle to keep living
When life's razed to the ground

And none of us can imagine
What they've all been through
And even those who were there
Can barely believe it's true

So many cannot eat now
And at night they lie awake
Shocked and scared by their loss
They tremble with every quake

11.1.05

Resilience

One of the most amazing things I saw was on my drive home from Banda Aceh. We were driving along and to our left there was all this mud, and you could see the ocean. There wasn't even rubble, I thought it must have all been rice fields or something like that. I asked one of our interpreters "What used to be here?" and he said "It all used to be houses". It seemed impossible to me that people's homes used to be there. Then I saw a man, on his own, standing poles up, like he was rebuilding his home. A home that had a view of the ocean. After everything they'd been through, only a short time ago, people were moving on and rebuilding their lives the best they could. I can have nothing but respect for these people. I think faced with the same thing, I would have collapsed in a heap at the almost impossible task in front of me. In my mind, that man has become a symbol of resilience, of what that really means. It's not just about survival, it's about rebuilding. Below is what I wrote in my notebook about that man.

Not even rubble
Ground completely razed
Lone man
Stands poles
To rebuild
Resilience

Children

The People

The children all wanted to have their photo taken.

The People

Photos:
For all the thousands of words I couldn't write
About a place that captivated me
By its brokeness that did not touch its heart
For a people braver
Then every hero of greek myths
Who had been handed loss and sorrow
And saw the gift of survival

Oddities

Sometimes the sight of a bicycle parked beside the road, or familiar advertisements, seemed odd to me in the face of so much destruction.

Boats were everywhere inland

Churches?

I was surprised to find that there were churches in Banda Aceh, and perhaps even more surprised when our muslim driver took us to them and showed us that they had survived.

Endless destruction

All That's Left

Rubble and death
All that's left
Bags line the road
And it's still not enough

Rubble, Rubble, Rubble

Photos

From the car

Apart from the photos at our campsite, most of my other photos were taken from within our car. I did not want to appear a tourist to the pain these people were going through, but I also didn't want to forget the destruction I had witnessed. Most of these photos were taken in one afternoon. At the end of the third day there, our drivers took us around to show us what the city now looked like. Here are a few photos, from now on most of my posts will mostly be the photos I took on that drive. I avoided any gruesome photos. Our driver was the rogue driver, that is the one who always turned off and didn't follow the other drivers as we were supposed to, so we saw different things to the rest of the group.

Day 2

The photos of what other people were up to - distributing food, building water filters.

At the start of the day, Nathan was considering how to set the clinic up on the mosque stairs again, when one of the aftershocks (I believe it was approx 6.7) caused the pillars to sway on the mosque...

Naive
I sway with the earth
Not understanding
The breath of death

Which was when we decided it was better to perhaps set up some tarps and have clinic under those. The day was a blur of people. Everyone with different stories and different problems. Here are a few exerpts from my diary from that day. Basically they are just reflections of everyone I met that day.

Child lies
Hollow eyes
Shallow breaths
Mother dead
What is sickness?
What is grief?
----
Elbow tumour
Too scared to go to hospital
Ran from there
Hospital gone
----
Trapped helpless
Two days
Calling for help
Endless wounds
----
Smiles large
How?
All is gone
Husband, child, home
Happy to survive
----
Headache
Can't eat
Can't sleep
Hard to breathe
Fear
Anxiety
Depression
----
1 from 5 000
Wounds proud badges
Of a lone survival
----
Parents bring children
Sick or not
Except for
A lone child
11
Seeks aid
Family gone
Except younger brother
-----------

That day we treated pneumonia, many skin conditions (scabies, fungal infections etc), wounds. The next day we also treated more of the same. We also talked to lots of people who had obvious signs of post traumatic stress disorder. Not a lot we could do with the language barrier for that, except advise them to try and talk about what they'd been through with family and friends. Luckily the group we were with (partners) were planning on setting up a house in the area for a year, and we were basically helping find out what the needs were, so hopefully they have been able to do more on this issue. I can't go into all the stories of the people from that day, but everyone I met was amazing in their own way.

Generosity Unexpected

The first day we drove into Banda Aceh, we drove through the less affected part of the city. There was earthquake damage everywhere, watermarks on the sides of houses, there was a bustle of foreigners, trying to make a mark on the suffering before us. We drove on and on. We registered with the people we had to register with. We tried to ascertain where we should go, that hadn't had the appropriate aid yet.

In the end, I think where we went hung on a more personal connection. One of the members of our group used to live in Banda Aceh and to teach at the university (I think). I don't remember her name now. Unlike the rest of us, she had a frame of reference for what we were seeing. She knew what this place looked like before all this happened. I can't imagine how devastated she was feeling. She was also concerned for all the people she knew who lived here. Wondering if they had survived. So our convoy headed towards the university (I believe). From talking to some people we came to hear of a little refugee camp (slightly outside the main centre of the city) that might benefit from what we could offer. To be honest I have no idea precisely where we were, or how the decision to go there was made. But we ended up there. It was a hundred metres or so up the road from where the waterline of where the tsunami got up to stopped.

Upon arrival in the afternoon, it was immediately obvious some people required medical attention. They got us set up on the steps of their mosque, which surprised me (due to us being infidels). Some people attempted crowd control, and we set up a bit of a system. Three to four of us seeing people, with an interpreter (sometimes two interpreters if the indonesian had to then be interpreted into acehnese). We would write down on a piece of paper the persons name and the medicine they needed and send them over to where the boxes of medicine and some more people from our team were. There they were given the medicine and instructions on how to take it.

One of the first people I saw was a girl maybe between 15-25. She was thin and completely listless, like she'd loss the will to live. She was very, very sick. She had been in the tsunami and when my hands touched her chest I could feel the rattling of her breathing. When I put a stethescope to her chest, she had a pleural rub - that rasping sound. She was very dehydrated, it was obvious she wasn't drinking or eating. This girl needed IV access, fluids and IV antibiotics. The oral medication we had was not going to cut it. We got our drivers to drive her to a hospital (which she had not had any way of getting to).
Here is what was written in my journal about her:
Woman listless
Pleural rub
Short shallow breaths
Dying to die
Thirstless in her dehydration

In the meanwhile, the rest of the team (non-medico) was assessing the situation and seeing what else we could do to help these people. Things like how to distribute the food/water/clothing safely, where to set up the waterfilter, what else the community needed done. They met with the elder in charge of this little makeshift community and began discussions.

Something happened then that floored me. Some of the people who's home had survived, moved out of their home, so that our group could stay there. These people have lost sooo much. Friends, families, homes. When we arrived, they moved from their home! I don't know how they had the strength to be generous after everything they had faced. To smile and give from the little they had. We all set up our sleeping gear in their home. We spent a while getting our mosquito nets perfect so we wouldn't end up malaria ridden.

At this point Suzie said "Did the ground just move?" What followed was a bunch of people mocking Suzie and telling her she was just dizzy. Then there came the undeniable feeling of having the ground roll beneath our feet. Mmm, we should not have been so disparaging, Suzie was right, the ground here moves. The Australians were reasonably unphased. This stemmed from our ignorance of earthquakes. The LA girs came in and recommended we all move out of the house and set up our tents in the yard surrounding the mosque where the refugee camp was. The buildings here are already weak from the earthquakes, the aftershocks (which were incidently still 5 or something-a-rather on the richter scale) could easily collapse them. Most of us (not all) wearily packed up our things and reset it all up outside in tents. I didn't think Matthew would forgive me if my laziness got me killed, so I was one of the ones that moved out.

A little tent city grew up beside our trucks.

Langsa - a glue factory

We were finally on our way. A convoy made up of two trucks and a few 4WD. A haphazzard group of Australians, Americans (although the americans hadn't all come from america, some of them were living overseas in nearby asian countries), a dutch man and some of the local people. We drove to Langsa. On the way a lot of the conversations we had had in our meetings in the hotel rooms were reiterated.

We were predominantly a group of white christian people going into a hurting muslim world. The rules were simple. There was to be no discussion at all about God publically in Banda Aceh. We were not there to add insult to injury. We were there to help pure and simple. We were to be respectful of these people and what they had been through and what they believed. It was probably a big enough invasion for these people that all these strangers were coming into their land already. If someone asked us directly about our faith we would be honest but nothing more. We had an Indonesian pastor with us from Bali, so that we didn't seem like one more foreign force invading their space, we went in under his banner. Our trucks all said "Bali for Aceh" in english and Indonesian. As far as I recall none of the other aid groups (partners, ARMS or oaktree) had any advertising up.

In Langsa further preparations for the trip were made. Not knowing what conditions we were going into a massive rock sorting mission began. It is not as wierd as it sounds. Randy was going to build a water filter for whatever community we were in. It worked by first running the water through layers of rocks (big rocks, small rocks, smaller rocks, sand) and then the water was run through a filter and then an ultraviolet light. So we were sorting through a big pile of rocks into different size groups under the hot Indonesian sun. Other preparations were made here also.

The decision was also made that we would wait till nightfall to travel. It seemed that would be the safest option to avoid being set upon by rebels. In less then 24 hours we would be seeing first hand for ourself the destruction the tsunami had on this community and the suffering to the people. I wondered if I was prepared. How do you prepare for something like that? How do you prepare for so much human suffering?

The Gathering

Once in Medan, there was much to be done before we could head to Banda Aceh, our destination. There were team members still arriving that we had to pick up from the airport and show back to the hotel. We had to get a special blue entry book for Medan at the airport (so we had to go find somewhere to take passport photos). We had to try and buy things to help the people in Banda Aceh - so we began buying water, food, clothes, medicine. And one of the biggest issues - we had to find trucks to transport all this stuff.

On my part, I spent a lot of time at the airport, waiting for people and helping the new arrivals get their blue entry book. I had a lot of chats with the friendly heavily armed guards at the airport, who tried desperately to improve my Indonesian. I saw lots of big military planes, and though they looked like an easier way to get to Banda Aceh, but alas it was not to be for us. I also spent some time in the hotel looking down onto the street, marveling that there wasn't any accidents. The way the traffic "worked" was crazy, crazy, crazy. If there was no traffic using the lanes for oncoming traffic, the cars would just spread themselves across the whole road using all the lanes, as if it were a one way street. Then when cars started coming towards them, they would all try and get back over to their side of the road. My main form of transport in this terrifying mess of traffic was a motorcycle drawn cart, as in the photo. Not the most reassuring vehicle.

We were told we wouldn't be able to find trucks, because the army and other aid organisations had already taken them all. I'm not exactly how we manage it, but in the end despite what they said, we have two trucks.

Many other things occurred that were totally amazing during these few days of preparation. When some of the team went to a warehouse to buy bandages and medications etc. There was a drug rep there who heard what they were doing and paid for about half of everything (which was quite a sizable amount of money). We are given something along the lines of 6 tonnes of food, clothes and water to take there.

This is starting to become real. I'm starting to wonder, what will happen when we are faced with the overwhelming loss the people in Banda Aceh have faced? I determine in my heart to try and keep my focus on the people who have actually suffered the loss. Not to become introspective considering how I am affected by the sights and smells. After all however I feel about it, I am not the one who has lost everything, they are. An easy thing to decide when you're in a bustling city.

Through it all Rein is a lifesaver. He helps us all the time, we call him constantly. In the end, it turns out he has a factory in Langsa, which because it is in Aceh, he has been unable to visit for a long time. We organise that when we travel we will go via there to organise some of the things we need. Also some of his workers from the factory will come with us as interpreters (we have two people in the team apart from Rein who are fairly fluent in Indonesian, but in Aceh they speak Acehnese, although a lot of them speak Indonesian as well).

Medan's Good Samaritan

We arrived in Medan. A hot, muggy city, we walk from the airplane, into the terminal. David, at this point, our leader, discusses with the guard getting some things of his that were taken from him on the Australian end of the flight. They were put in with the general luggage (sharp objects from his first aid kit) so that he would have them. However, despite my reading a phrase book on the journey there, our Indonesian is about equivalent to the guards english. Very poor.

A blonde man stepped in and began talking to the guard and interpreting and helping David out. After which David seemed to be having quite a lengthy discussion with this man. I had no idea what was going on. All around me were armed guards, and many foreigners filing past wearing the uniforms of many different aid groups. All the people you would expect were there. They seemed to have a bit more of a plan then we did. What were we doing here? Would we help anyone? Were we doing the right thing? A lot of the guards close to the door, despite their big guns, were smiling and friendly and keen to try and hold a conversation that involved them teaching us some Indonesian and us teaching them some english.

Suddenly we were outside and loading all our luggage into this stranger's car (I had some serious reservations about this). Then we were on our way to his house, squished like sardines, in a car on a road that seemed devoid of actual road rules. It turns out this stranger's name was Rein (forgive me if that's not how you spell it). He was a dutch business man who was waiting at the airport to pick up some people from Samaritan's Purse, however helped us out when it was obvious we needed it. He took us to his home, this group of loud Australians in crumpled clothes. He sat us down, he gave us coffee and then he spent the next hour or so on the phone getting us accommodation. He found us accommodation at a place that he knew the owner of, and got us a discount as well. Then he drove us all out there. He gave us his number and said if we needed anything at all, he would help. The poor man had no idea what he was in for.

Singapore

Leaving Brisbane there were four of us in the group - Suzie, Nathan, Brendan and myself. None of us were strongly affiliated to the organisations who we were going across to Indonesia with. The three organisations behind our trip were ARMS, Partners and Oaktree, of these, Partners were really the main driving force. All of us discussed what we could expect ahead of us. There was a chance we would not be doing anything medical. We might just be going in and lending a hand in whatever way was most needed. If that meant putting bodies in bags, that's what we would do.

We had to change planes in Singapore, and here we would meet up with some more Australians, the ARMS branch of the group. The details of precisely who was present at that meeting are a little blurry, but my feeling is that it was Kathy and David. From there we hopped onto a plane to Medan.

Now if it seems that this all happened very quickly, it did. Such was the quickness, that a precise plan had not been worked out. For instance, we did not have any accommodation planned in Medan. Our general plan when we got there was to find accommodation, and then begin gathering supplies for what we would need, and to meet the rest of the team (more Australians and some americans).

The First Page

On boxing day 2004 I was in Kennilworth (North of Brisbane) camping. My friends and I were trying to decided whether or not we would stay at the Kennilworth for new years eve, go to the beach, or go home. We went into town and we saw the newspapers - there had been a tsunami, thousands were dead. Every day that we went into town, the number of people who had been killed grew. Every day I wished there was something I could do. On new year's eve, we started driving back to Brisbane in the morning. When I got into mobile range, I had a call from my mum. She said that one of our family friends who is a nurse, Suzy, was going to Indonesia with an aid organisation, and they might be looking for more medical people. She said if I wanted to go, she'd fund me. Of course I was interested I told her, when would we be leaving? Tonight at approximately midnight. Ummm, well I haven't had a shower in a few days, that's not a lot of time to prepare.... Matthew (my husband), thought it was something we needed to discuss. Matt is sort of the brains of our little family. He has a lot of general knowledge. He knew some things about Banda Aceh that I was not aware of. For instance he asked me, did I know that there had been a lot of fighting in Banda Aceh? Was I aware it had been closed to white people for awhile? Did I know about the religious persecution that occurred there? Nope, this was all news to me. After some discussion (pulled over on the side of the road in the glass house mountains so that we would have mobile range to call my mum back), we decided I would go. I called my mum and said she could book me a ticket.

We drove directly to my mum's house. Conveniently, I had accidently taken my passport camping. A rare occurence (it has only happened once). I showered, mum washed my clothes and booked me in to see the doctor for some shots, and matt drove around buying mosquito nets, mosquito repellant etc. It was a mad, mad rush. Then they drove me to the airport. I never went via my own house. It was straight from camping, to gone. Not knowing what conditions we would be facing, we were told not to bring anything we couldn't leave behind. So in the way of cameras, I took only one lense (a 50mm) and our old OM-1 (which is fully manual, you have to set the aperture and shutter speed yourself). I figured, I probably wouldn't have time to use it anyway. When the year 2005 came, I was sitting on a plane with Suzy and some other people I didn't know that well. It was one more year, in a series of years, that Matt and I did not see the new year in together.
-----
ON THE PLANE 1.1.06
Details blur
Into grey
As I fly
Far away
You are safe
I am sound
I touch air
You touch ground

A year and a half ago....

A year and a half ago I took an amazing journey into Banda Aceh. This is a blog separate to my normal blog, as I want to try and recreate here, the journey I took. When I came back I created a photo journal of what I saw, and I had a small collection of writings that I had quickly jotted down, trying to record my impressions of what I saw and the people I met. Recently, thanks to the goodwill of Bev and Ray (my parents-in-law) I have acquired a scanner, that I have used to scan the pages of my photo journal into my computer. I have never used a scanner before, and I fear that has affected how my B&W prints have come out on the computer, but it's the idea that counts (sadly some of my bigger prints that I did in the dark room are back in Brisbane, and they were better quality).

I will update this as I get a chance with the photos in the order they were in the book. Along the way, I will try and relate a little bit of my journey.