|
San Francisco to Tokyo to Bangkok to Chennai to Madurai, then
by SUV to Kanyakumari. After more than eighty hours of fitful travel
since departing San Francisco on New Year’s Day, I finally
reached the tsunami-affected shoreline at the southern tip of India--reminded
once again, rarely is it a straight line to the disaster zone.
For the past four years, I have worked as a freelance photojournalist
and consultant to international aid organizations. Disaster zones
like Haiti after Tropical Storm Jeanne, war-torn communities like
the West Bank during the second Intifada, and poverty-stricken
countries like Ethiopia between famines: all have been my workplace.
Immediately after news of the tsunami broke, Seton Institute,
a California-based relief organization, requested that I travel
to South India to document the needs of survivors and the work
of Catholic Sisters in the relief effort. Seton intended to launch
an appeal for donations and required a firsthand account of the
scene on the ground.
They linked me up with Sister Flory Parinalam and the Sisters
of St. Ann of Luzern, a congregation with thirty-two health facilities,
three nursing schools, and more than 200 nurses all within a day’s
travel from the devastated coastline. Together, Sister Flory and
I toured the coastal villages and relief camps of the Kanyakumari
District, where more than 800 people perished and 90,000 people
were displaced.
I met one grandmother who lived because when the waves hit she
was out buying flowers for her eldest daughter’s upcoming
wedding, while her two daughters and three grandchildren remained
in the home and perished. One man I spoke to grabbed hold of a
coconut tree and held on for life, but described how another man
smacked into the trunk of a nearby tree and died. Of course, physical
strength, strong swimming skill, early warning, and good judgment
increased one’s chances of survival. But it was luck and
proximity to the coastline more than anything else that seemed
to govern a person’s fate.
By the time I reached the shoreline near Kanyakumari on January
5, the Indian government and numerous aid organizations had done
an admirable job of providing for the emergency material needs
(food, water, medicine, and shelter) of survivors. Fears of widespread
disease also quietly disappeared under the blanket of white bleaching
powder sprinkled along the sides of the dirt streets each morning.
The emergency response I observed in South India did not represent
the effectiveness of the relief effort around other parts of the
Indian Ocean. Each region had its unique challenges. News reports
highlighted how destructive elements like politics, corruption,
child-trafficking, and civil war impeded the relief campaigns in
parts of Indonesia, Sri Lanka, and the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.
Nor did the seemingly well-coordinated response in South India
mirror that of other disaster areas I have witnessed, starting
with Gonaives, Haiti, following Tropical Storm Jeanne last September.
While the statistics of loss in Gonaives (3,000 dead, 200,000 displaced)
exceeded those in Kanyakumari District, the efficacy of the relief
effort certainly did not.
It is difficult to compare fairly the relief efforts for different
disasters. Geography, culture, logistics, and the cause of the
disaster are never the same. That said, the obvious difference
that struck me was survivor temperament. Long cursed as one of
the most gang-ridden cities in the Western Hemisphere, Gonaives
was a violent, desperate place even on its best days. So when aid
did not immediately arrive in this city after the storm, the people,
not surprisingly, took up arms for their survival. The first relief
workers to enter the city fled for their lives, leaving whatever
aid they had brought to the most hard-nosed bandits--survival of
the fittest in its most basic form. From that point forward, the
relief effort struggled to regain its footing and, as a consequence,
the Haitian people’s suffering intensified.
By comparison, disgruntled fishermen in Kanyakumari, unhappy with
their government’s slow response to their needs, organized
street protests to voice their complaints. Still, full-scale civil
unrest seemed unlikely. Yes, they raised their voices, drank too
much, and were justifiably angry, but not at the outside world,
as were the Haitians. Rather, at God and the ocean.
The effort to bring peace and solace to the suffering souls in
the relief camps has proved to be a far more daunting task than
the provision of material assistance. The emotions of those gathering
in the camps fluctuated from deeply despondent to hysterically
emotional--vacant stares intertwined with intense wails of grief.
In this predominantly Catholic population of “fisher-folk,” many
questioned God and His intentions: “How could God have let
this happen? What did we do to deserve this punishment?” Their
faith had been shaken to the core.
“We do not know God’s plan. We do not have an answer,” Sister
Flory and others countered. “We can only offer an article
of faith. But remember the way so many people were saved miraculously;
that is also a sign of God’s goodness.”
The fishing community distrusted nature. “But why did the
sea--our friend and giver of life for as long as we have been alive--betray
us?” they asked. “It took our children, our homes and
our livelihoods. We will never go back to the sea.”
Counselors responded with a scientific explanation that described
how an earthquake triggered the waves. They assured them that an
early-warning system in the Indian Ocean would soon be in place
and that it would be safe to return to the sea. But when the sounds
of an approaching train, a passing plane, or the gentle roar of
the seashore continue to shoot chills of panic down the spine,
it is clear the fright remains.
No question, tsunami survivors today are in a fragile state. Most
relief experts agree that it will take years for these people to
rebuild their lives and communities. Relief agencies are committed
to a long-range rehabilitation plan, as much as five to ten years
out. They hope that their donors are, too.
--Peter Lemieux
Lemieux ’93 is a freelance photojournalist and consultant
to humanitarian aid organizations. He lives in San Francisco.
(Photo by Karen Cheng)
|
