Tsunami
Yes, I was in the December 26, 2004 tsunami.
Yes, I survived.
Yes, this is an account of my experience. It’s a collage of words, paragraphs, spaces that attempt to depict an experience that is beyond our alphabet. But, here it is.
-------------------------------NOW is the time to wake up. The universe bought me a plane ticket to fly to the other side of the globe. Every imaginable synchronicity came together and on the winter solstice 2004, I flew from Seattle to Bangkok. I joined with my sweet love, Paul, and we headed south to a small island oasis in the Indian Ocean. Koh Jum, next to Koh PhiPhi, welcomed us with open arms and the quiet of this non-electricity island was refreshing. We arrived in the late afternoon of Dec 25th, finding ourselves the least expensive bungalow (furthest from the ocean, but closest to the jungle).
That night we made ourselves comfortable in our new Bungalow. We lit candles and snuggled in under our mosquito net. As I began to drift into the dream world, an image came to me that I have not forgotten. The image was of our bungalow- it was floating in the trees, encircled by rainbows and warm light. What had come to us, that night, was a blessing of protection and strength.
The next morning as we awoke, there was an unusual silence around our forested bungalow. We got up and packed a bag to head to the beach. Papaya in hand for our post-swim breakfast, we sauntered down the path to the beach. Each of us was glowing with anticipation of a day at the beach. We walked through the sand and found ourselves an isolated spot further down the beach.
The next few hours played out like nothing imaginable.
-------------------------------Paul’s account:
The sun set a thick orange over the Andaman Sea on the coast of Thailand that night. Time seemed to stand still as we sat in silence, bearing the weight of those past two days. We reclined in reflection as the fading light itself reflected off the water. My thoughts were muddied, conflicted, and so too was the sea; thick with sediment, the splintered remains of cabanas, crushed bottles, broken sewer lines. We were so grateful that it was free of human remains, but still afraid to swim.
I held Tamara even tighter, out of lingering fear and the divine appreciation that comes from near loss. I caught the eye of our friend Wit, and held it, trying to understand what he must be going through. The tsunami devastated his home, the tiny island of Koh Jum off the coast of Krabi, and he had lost dear friends nearby. But like so many Thais, he maintained that enigmatic smile. 'The smile' is constant in Thailand. Initially the Thai disposition felt warm and welcoming to me. Indeed, coming from China, it seemed a totally different world. But I soon realized that even when unhappy they maintain that smile; even when their whole world has been smashed and drowned and dragged out to sea, the smile stares, never blinking.
Our first day at the beach began with me and Tamara and our papaya. Before breakfast, we dove into the warm waters together, but I was too lazy for a long swim and headed in as she went out. Lying in the tide, I noticed all these sand crabs running to the water. I picked one up. It was as big as my palm. At the water’s edge I knelt to rinse it off and noticed that the tide was racing out: ten feet over a few seconds. It was then that I looked up and saw the wave: a white line shimmering innocently on dark blue. I gazed in fascination before realizing any potential danger. I yelled for Tamara and she came swimming in against the strong current and ran up the beach, about fifty feet away. The wave approached, rising up into a curl, tripping over its feet dragging in the sand. As it hit the beach I jogged towards the jungle - mostly for the child-like joy of being chased. With surprising depth and weight the wave took out my feet and I was sputtering in sandy water. I was washed up against a tree and managed to climb up 6 ft - amazed, scraped, but not too scared.
Soon the water receeded and Tamara came running down the beach, her top taken by the ocean. An older french woman, scraped and scared, joined us as I found my sarong twisted around a tree and handed it to Tamara in a daze. We walked down the disheveled beach back towards the bungalows.
When we saw another wave coming, we jumped onto the porch of a little shack. Mangon, the steady-drinking, reportedly womanizing, fully-tattooed energy worker helped us and a half dozen others as the water rolled up the beach and under his home. Waves hit the house harder, shifting the boards beneath our feet. The five of us encircled the solid tree that served as a foundation post for the house. We were hugging the tree and each other - arms, legs, and eyes clenched tight. Mangon ran inside (to get his money) and for some reason Claire the french woman followed. Tamara was washed off the porch before the house went down. I felt it going over and rode it for a second before jumping clear of the roof and then the wreckage. Surfacing, I heard calls for help and thought it was Tamara until I heard her own pleas. I waded waist deep to the other side of the crumbled shack to find Tamara pinned between the fallen roof and a tree, just her head above the water. Me and some guy named Jose with a hari krishna hairdo tried to move the roof but it wouldn't budge. Frantically, I began pulling at the top of the pile pinning Tamara, glancing up to see more water rolling in. For the first time, I was really scared: thinking the water would soon rise over her head while the roof still solidly held her. As I futilely pulled fronds off the roof, a new wave came in thick with debris, striking us all hard. Jose and I were thrown back, but blessedly so was the roof and Tamara. The wave had freed her! Gasping and grasping trees, we were pushed further up into the jungle. With the adrenaline rush of fear on me, I grabbed Tamara's hand and waded knee-deep through the trees and plants and floating boards until we came upon Claire. Her hip had a jagged fleshy gash bigger than my hand and she was hyperventilating. I put her arm over my shoulder as we walked parallel to what was the beach, now nearly 100 ft away. Claire couldn't walk, even with help, so I put her over my shoulder and trudged through scraping plants and thick dirty water. After a few exhausting minutes and a climb over a pile of glass bottles, we reached the safety of the bungalows. In the cleared jungle, we walked easily up inland and laid down Claire - who had gone into shock.
A german nurse took care of Claire while we showered and tried to collect ourselves. The first two rows of bungalows were ripped from their cement foundations. Whole walls were washed away. The kitchen was gone. Soon the water stopped running. We cleaned our cuts and scrapes with tea tree oil. Tamara's inner forearms and thighs were raw from holding onto trees. Then a guy came on a moped to warn us of another wave. All the villagers were gathering on the hill. We organized a ride for Claire, who had her wound cleaned and had relaxed a little, and grabbed a bag and water and headed up.
There were two hills, we later learned. We found ourselves on the top of the big hill, with all the locals. It was a full refugee scene. The Thais, in their way, smiling relentlessly through it all. People told us of relatives on Koh Phi Phi who had died, a smile never leaving their face. Full families camped out with mats and food and even mosquito nets. We spotted a wiry man with a thin black intertube around his waist - ready for the waters to rise without relief until the entire island had been swallowed and he sat alone, bobbing on the endless ocean. A family whose house was at the base of the hill cooked a feast for all who had not brought food. Despite someone taking our water and blanket as we ate (which sent the others into a fit of compassion and action, finding us water and a sheet,) we slept heavily. We awoke at first light; the new day bringing new hope. We walked down the mountain, encouraged. The community under catastrophe was strong and supportive and joyful and inspiring.
Five days later, we sat in thought on that glass-strewn beach with Wit. The heavy orange sun succumbing to its daily struggle. Though Wit’s smile never waivered, his eyes reflected the depth of his feelings. They spoke silently of destroyed houses, smashed dreams, and lost lives. With a deep breath of resignation he shook his head, gazed out at the sun sinking heavily into the spoiled waters, and sighed "tamatchat" - "nature."
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stand with your lover on the ending earth--
and while a (huge which by huger than huge) whoing sea leaps to greenly hurl snow
suppose we could not love, dear;
imagine ourselves like living neither nor dead these
(or many thousand hearts which don't and dream
or many million minds which sleep and move)
blind sands, at pitiless the mercy of
time time time time time
-- how fortunate are you and i, whose home is timelessness:
we who have wandered down from fragrant mountains of eternal now
to frolic in such mysteries as birth
and death a day
-ee cummings
Tamara’s account:
We survived! Really. We left the Koh Jum (our island) this morning and are on the mainland in a town called Krabi. There's so much to tell, that most of it will come in later segments and stories. i've learned about love, and how that's really all that matters. The Thai people are incredibly sweet and generous and the past few days i've seen a lot of the beauty of humanity.
the wave::: it was our first day at the beach. went out for a morning swim. papaya waiting to be eaten on the beach. beautiful, calm water. wonderful swim. paul went to shore, i kept swimming. then i decided to go in to get my goggles. the water had a strangely strong current suddenly and i was having a hard time getting out. i looked behind me and saw a large wave coming in. i had no idea what it was. i got out of the water and started running up the beach, towards the forest. fast (wow, my ankle can run!). before i got there, the water hit me. So strong. threw me forward with it. i grabbed a tree. thrown off. grabbed another tree. the power of this water was unbelievable. the water settled and i found paul. we walked down the beach and found a bungalow where there were 5 other people. we stood on the porch and talked about what just happened. we didn't know what was going on. then we saw another wave coming. we all grouped together and held onto this huge tree in front of his place. as soon as the water hit, i went flying. the next thing i knew, i was at another tree. the bungalow collapsed under the water. part of it came flying thru the water and pinned me to the tree. my head was just above the water and I couldn't move. i started to scream for help. Paul and this spanish guy found me and started trying to move the bungalow away from my body but it was very heavy. another wave was coming in and my head was under water. then the next wave threw the bungalow off of me and i went flying again. this time i found a palm tree. i held it with all of my strength. (the insides of my arms and legs were bleeding raw from the strength that i used to hold myself there) the water so strong. then that wave subsided. paul was at a nearby tree. he said -- "run, tamara!". i ran straight into the forest. i was topless, just wearing a bathingsuit bottom. scraped up and heart racing. we ran in knee-deep water thru a jungle. then we heard someone yelling for help. we found a 60 year old french woman who had a huge gash in her leg. paul threw her across his shoulder and i led the way thru the jungle. we came out, where our place was. we put the woman on the ground and called for help. everyone who was still around came to help. first aid kits, tea tree oil, iodine. we cleaned ourselves up. we were sandy, salty, and pretty scraped up. then word spread that another wave was coming. we ran up to our place. packed a small bag of essentials (first aid kit, lavender and teatree oils, tons of vitamin C (i'm living off of vitamin c) and a blanket. we ran up to the mountain (the highest point on the island). it was like a refugee camp. everyone from the island camped out. we slept there, in the hard dirt, under the full moon . amazing strength of the ocean in a Cancer full moon. Our bodies were so sore. every particle hurt. we slept with our bags under our heads and strapped to our bodies. holding hands. we survived.
the following day we headed down the mountain to our bungalow and it was still standing. the things that we lost were minimal in the big picture. $, camera, clothing, none of it really matters. we are alive. the place was trashed. buildings gone. we've been there all week. it became an amazing community of people (thais and foreigners). we bonded and connected with each other.
i went for a swim just because i was tentative. then the water started to smell funny and rumors of cholera spread. Last night we said our farewells to the new friends and it was time to depart.
This is the revolution. Inclusivity, breaking the walls of separateness. The earth treats us all the same. Regardless of someone’s beliefs, religion, country, or income, the power of the Earth is mighty and thorough.
The Great Ocean is the mother of this planet. She is tied to the moon and the cycles of nature. As the tectonic plates shifted, the Mother Ocean was given a boost of energy, sending her mighty waves throughout the world. The salty mama came in and pummelled us. As if inside of the grand washing machine, we were tossed and tumbled. And those of us who were spit out alive have a greater understanding of life. It is time for us as a species to wipe the sleep of forgetfulness from our eyes and WAKE UP. Wake up to the truth of what is. Wake up to our feeling natures. Wake up to our separateness from each other and begin to come together. We have operated for long enough centered on ourselves. With disaster of this magnitude, there is very little one can do for oneself. What we are able to do for each other is where the real power lies. The revolution is about moving out of the Self and into the Collective. We are the people, needs to replace I am the person. The answer is in the WE. The state of the world after the tsunami had shifted into the We, even if briefly. On the island, it didn’t matter what country a person was from, or what language they spoke, or what their ethical standards were, everyone was part of the collective. We were one being with many bodies and voices. We were survivors of the greatest natural disaster of the century and we were together.
