1. Memories of the Tsunami
Christmas Day 2004. An idyllic morning spent opening presents with
our children, who were then three and four years old, followed by
family celebrations. I woke up late on Boxing Day and started flicking
through the TV channels. Sky News was the first station to broadcast
the horror that was unfolding half way around the world, and the
graphic images of the disaster were soon filling the airways. It was
the first time that I had heard the word “tsunami”, but one that has
become engrained in my thoughts.
Over the next few days, the picture became more detailed as the
extent of the devastation and loss of life became apparent. In our
comfortable, safe, home in England, I felt myself becoming
increasingly frustrated that I wasn’t doing anything to help. We
pledged a small amount of money to the on line appeal that the large
Aid Agencies were asking for, like so many people around the world
were also doing. And life went on; I went to work in General Practice,
saw my regular patients, and returned home at night glued to the
news channels on television.
I spent the following weekend working at my other job in the
Emergency Department at our local hospital. It was Sunday morning,
on week after the tsunami hit, and I wandered in to the staff room for
a break. The notice board was crowded with messages; items for sale,
social events to go to, but I was instantly drawn to one that mattered.
It read:
“Volunteers wanted for the Sri Lankan tsunami disaster, leaving
tomorrow”.
I knew I had to go. I phoned Vicki, my wife, and all she said was “do
it”. But it wasn’t going to be as easy as that. I couldn’t just drop
everything and leave my Practice. I phoned my colleagues to get their
permission, and they were really supportive. So the rest would be
easy…
A meeting was scheduled in ED for the following morning, the
Monday Public Holiday for the New Year. There were going to be 9 of
2. us; six Paramedics, three Doctors and a Counsellor. We divided tasks
for the planned departure; I went to a local Pharmacy and persuaded
the Pharmacist to donate some medications, while others sourced
transport to the airport and started to formalise logistics. In the
afternoon, we met at my Surgery, and my Nurse was on hand to give
last minute immunisations. Our aim was to meet there again at 05.00
the following morning, to start our journey.
I was very nervous that evening at home. I didn’t know where I
would be going, what I would be doing, and if there would be any
risks. I was tearful when I kissed the children goodnight and again
the following morning when I said goodbye to Vicki.
But as soon as I arrived at the Practice, all of that changed. We were
an enthusiastic group of professionals who were going to help. We
hadn’t bought our flight tickets yet, and so when we arrived at
Heathrow, we headed for the Air Sri Lanka ticket office. After some
bartering, we managed to book nine seats on the next flight to
Colombo, for six hundred pounds each, down from a starting price of
nine hundred and fifty. Thank goodness for Visa ! We got a meal after
clearing customs and were amazed at the generosity of the
restaurant staff; Indians who refused to accept any payment. The
twelve hour flight was empty and we were left to out own thoughts
and landed in Colombo at three in the morning. It was there that our
journey nearly ended. Many groups of foreigners had been arriving
over the past week offering help, and the authorities were refusing
some of them entry. If it hadn’t been for one of our doctors being Sri
Lankan himself, we too would have been refused entry. Instead, after
a three hour wait without our passports, we were in. Outside the
airport, we were met with our guide, Ray, a local twenty year old,
who was to be our driver and interpreter during our stay. We rested
during the morning at a local church, and were informed that it
would take forty eight hours for our qualifications to be checked. Jet
lagged, hot and hungry, we fell asleep. A couple of hours later, we
visited a local Pharmacy and bought a thousand pounds worth of
medications and supplies, again thanks to some strong bartering and
Visa. Back at the church, an government official informed us that
permission had been fast tracked to allow us to provide assistance as
a medical team. Refreshed and excited, we headed south towards
Galle.
Colombo is a typical, busy, Asian city, teeming with life. It suffered no
damage in the tsunami, but en route south the devastation soon
3. became apparent. Traditional fishing boats littered the shoreline, and
entire beachfront villages lay in ruins, piles of rubble everywhere.
The scenes reminded me of pictures I’d seen following the Hiroshima
bomb. Our base was at the Dutch Reformed Church within Galle fort.
The town itself, built on flat ground by the sea, suffered a huge
amount of damage, but the church itself was completely untouched,
as were all of those inside it. As the waves hit, the fort’s ramparts
protected the church as huge volumes of water literally surrounded
the church, destroying everything and everyone in its path. The
locals, being very religious, say that God saved his church.
We were sent to a village some five kilometres north of the city
where some forty five displaced families were gathered. There, we
set up a field clinic to provide assistance. It was a very humbling
experience dealing with people who had lost everything, who were
so grateful to us for helping them with the basic necessities. We
worked in four teams; a doctor with an interpreter assessing patients
who were then treated by the paramedics at the dressing station /
pharmacy. The problems were mainly respiratory infections, wound
care and dehydration as well as chronic medical conditions like
diabetes, with around 120 patients being treated in the stifling heat.
We then transferred our clinic to a house in the back streets of Galle
itself. Here the conditions were much worse. The water supply was
unsafe and the smell of rotting bodies seemed to be everywhere.
Throughout all their suffering and loss, the people did not complain,
and their gratitude was overwhelming. We met a Buddhist monk who
had come from Singapore with some businessmen offering support
and money to whoever needed it and their humbleness and
generosity filled me with awe. It was in Galle that we heard of the
train, the Queen of the sea. It was heading south from Colombo as the
first wave hit. As the water subsided, people scrambled on top of the
damaged carriages, only for them to be hit by the second wave. In
those few, catastrophic minutes, 1300 people lost their lives. Back in
Galle harbour, as the first wave drew back out to sea, the harbour’s
shipwrecks appeared as ghost ships arising from the seabed, and
people rushed to see them…
We were continually in contact with the charity that had initially
requested a medical team,, and they sent us further south to Matara,
where we were told that there were three communities needing help.
It was here that the logistical problems worsened. After a morning’s
work, it became apparent that these communities had been treated
recently, and we discovered that two independent medical teams had
4. been through in the past 48 hours. The problems associated with the
disaster were also becoming murkier. There were stories of foreign
aid being held up at the airport taking three days to clear customs,
and of a giant Russian Antanov transport plane, crammed to the
gunnels with provisions, sitting on the tarmac for 24 hours, before
returning home, still loaded, because of incorrect paperwork.
Corrugated roofing sent from India also went missing at the airport,
only to be discovered being sold in a local market.
Our aim was now to try to get over to the East Coast, where the
devastation was worse, at Batticola and Trincomalee, in the Tamil
area. But our efforts were thwarted because of a lack of reliable
transport and no resupply line. The US Navy were now heavily
involved in the aid effort, and the did offer to fly us in by chopper, but
at 1000 US dollars each.
The Sri Lankan red Cross suggested we continue south east to
Hambantota, a four hour truck ride from Galle. At the first camp, an
American group were embedded and providing an enormous amount
of psychological support to the many children as well as adults in the
community. Some of these children were still wandering around
emotionally dazed nearly two weeks after the tsunami, but others
were starting to smile and play and laugh. I now understand just
how important mental health support is needed to help with
recovery. The physical suffering is only a small part. A meeting was
arranged in the evening at the local Red Cross headquarters, where it
was becoming obvious that our medical aid programme was
unravelling. A large majority of those who needed acute medical help
had now been dealt with; either nature had taken them, or the
numerous aid teams were dealing with them. At two weeks into the
disaster, what was now needed was reconstruction, re establishment
of communities, and ensuring a safe water supply, sanitation and the
provision of reliable food. We therefore decided to call it a day, rather
than head further eastwards searching out for tasks. So a week after
leaving the UK, we were heading home, physically and emotionally
exhausted. None of us had previously experienced this type of work
or environment before, and would jump at the chance of doing it
again in the future. We were overwhelmed by the gratitude and help
of the local people who had suffered so much, and by the support
given to us by other foreign aid workers and news crews.
However, logistical lessons do need to be learned. A control –
command and supply line is essential. Communication with local,
5. national and international aid agencies, at a senior level, need to be
continuous. Leaders in the field like Oxfam, the Red Cross / Crescent,
Save the Children and Merlin have immense logistical back up
systems in place that are able to rapidly adapt to changing needs in
the field. It is also vitally important that as a responder to an overseas
crisis, you need to be aware of the cultural norms within the country,
and also be aware of national and international political agendas,
which play a major part in any relief effort.
Seven years on, and I’m now looking forward to another relaxing
Christmas with my family. We emigrated to the east Coast of
Australia a few years ago, and I hope that my brief experience in Sri
Lanka and the lessons I learned, will make me more useful in the
future, should the need arise.
