Tsunami Relief Foundation - Stories

So many miles away I seem to have left my heart,
In the midst of a paradise that was torn apart.
It took a hard journey just to realise,
Life’s but an illusion before our very eyes.
And each day we live it and plan ahead,
Here at university from my warm campus bed




A sun set in Sri Lanka


I cannot seek ignorance and hide in its bliss,
I’ve seen so many nightmares, on nobody I would wish.
And every day, the memory of the panicking climbs,
Away from the Tsunamis and its unsanctioned crimes.

And as we struggled up the rocks, our bodies became weak,
Only adrenaline divided us: the alive from the deceased.
There was no time to wonder ‘if’ or grieve for those below,
Up upon the rocks that day, our souls began to grow.
Too tired to keep escaping, we had to let go,
Fear would not excuse us, if we had to face death row.
So we returned to the refuge and decided not to move,
Tending to the injured, with only words to soothe.

Persistent threats...another wave-panic filled the air,
So many died, so fast- so much despair.
But the water had no sympathy, for who it chose that day,
For anyone who played with it, or lay upon its bay.
As the heat rose steadily, the smells grew intense,
Death was everywhere, death in every sense.




Even the Graves have been over turned for the Tsunami


I have never seen such sadness or made such true friends,
We all helped each other with whatever we had to lend.
And then Tim said a ‘grave must be dug’
So soon they carried bloated bodies through the soaking mud.
As we observed from the hotel slope that day,
We saw how death’s our leveller when it takes us away.

Now back to all your faces, I’m so glad to see,
If only life was enough to get a damn degree.
And though it’s not easy, I’ve been extremely blessed,
I wouldn’t take my journey back, but I would for those who rest.

BY GAIA LAMBERT – from UK

I met a man whose body was alive but who had lost his life. To find a word that conveys how much he lost is pretty near impossible, but I’ll try. His child and wife, his father and mother, his house and the little hotel by the sea that was his bread and butter – all gone. These are the people and the things he had built his life upon and faced with his loss all he could say was “WHY?” But there is no answer…and no one to hold responsible.

The people around us tried to give him food and water, but he would not take it, someone tried to give him a hug but he just lay down on the road screaming. “Why have you left me alive? Please take me.”

I approached him feeling completely helpless, not knowing what to do or say while he lay writhing on the road clutching handfuls of the sand. I asked him whether he wanted anything; he looked up, his eyes swimming with tears, and asked me for a cigarette. Unfortunately, that was the one thing that none of us had thanks to the roads being completely blocked off by the debris. I don’t smoke but at that moment I wished I did, I hated that moment! I could not give him the one thing he wanted. I still don’t know what became of that man and whether he still struggles on – only half-alive.





Kids find shade under the hot sun under tents

It’s crazy how the world works because this sort of things always happens to those who are most vulnerable; misfortune singles out the defenceless. God must have a completely warped sense of humour, if there’s a god at all, that is…Have you noticed how a child who has nothing, no home, no school, not even a family, will still have the most beautiful smile you have seen. I have worked for 5 years with kids in an NGO, and I know for a fact that I am the only male Montessori teacher in my country. You might assume that I would know children and how to work with them, but I didn’t know what to say to a child that had lost everything. I had nothing to say, nothing I could do. Nothing I have ever done or learnt had prepared me for this. I think most people are still trying to make sense of what happened. To me it remains one long dream that goes on and on and there is nothing I can do to bring back what we have lost.

Now, I am back home with a fan on, the radio on and food on a table. I have walked away. Or atleast I want to. But can I? I have been in hell since I got back. My spirit seems to be withering under the burden of my guilt. “Why them and not me? Why the children? They did nothing to anyone. What would take a man’s life and leave him alive, leave him shuddering with more pain than a soul could bear.

I look around and see how my countrymen have come together, how, in fact the whole world has come together with everyone doing what they can to help. The crazy thing is that the more we hear of aid coming in the more stories of mismanaged aid abound. Worse than mismanaged aid, however, is aid that is stolen and put to use by certain corrupt individuals. It’s clear that something like this brings out both the best and the worst in people!





Tsunami camps that are still up

Michael, my Polish friend who was with me when the waves hit, talks about this issue a lot. Not surprisingly a lot of other young people felt the same and we all got together to form the Tsunami Relief Foundation. http://trfsrilanka.blogspot.com The idea is have totally transparent accounting available online for all to see, and also to give young people a chance to get involved in whatever capacity they can.

After all this a lot of young people wanted to help, but wherever they went they were simply asked to load stuff into trucks or were given some other stuff that none of them really felt was making any great difference. I felt they were not used well and were given a real opportunity to help. Through the Tsunami Relief Foundation they will be given the chance to actually plan their own projects and then find the funding to carry it out themselves. The way they go through a training course of sorts and at the same time are able to have the chance to really do something to help.

Despite all this I still feel empty inside though. I lost my self somewhere in those moments when the waves crashed into my island. I don’t know who I am anymore; I don’t know where I’m going! I am by profession a film maker but the work for TRF keeps me completely occupied. Am I doing the right thing? All I know is that I need to do this now. After all this, even my tears have dried up. I am by default an emotional person but I have yet to shed a tear. I want so much to cry, but my eyes and soul won’t let me.



After the waves have gone

I feel at times why am I doing all this work? Is it because I feel guilty about me being alive? I heard a man say that, all this is because of the evils that men have let loose into our world and that this was God’s or Mother Nature’s punishment. I know that we are all guilty of some sin or the other and so are deserving of chastisement but what could a child be guilty of? Being born? Why did they have to die! They have no sin! My head feels like it’s full of thoughts that my mind or my soul can’t find the answers for. I ask the world around me but no one knows.

In some ways I am also like that man, I am alive and dead, both at the same time. Even at night I have no peace, the dreams are so crazy that I can’t sleep anymore. But strangely enough, I know I am stronger than all this and yet, I can’t get myself to move past this. Maybe I don’t know where to move on to.

Maybe I survived for a reason. When I look deep into my soul I feel the only reason for my existence is to help those who survived. So I will do this for as long as my life allows. I am afraid that the world that seems so keen on helping us will loose interest the moment all the media buzz dies down. Will it be relegated to the history archives like 9/11 or the war in Iraq? Look around…is anyone talking about Afghanistan? Barely anyone is still interested.

By Timothy Senaviratne.
tim_sri@hotmail.com
2005-01-12

Relations from Unawatuna by ABC:

http://www.abc.net.au/am/content/2004/s1273608.htm

http://www.abc.net.au/am/content/2004/s1274076.htm

posted by Tsunami in Unawatuna Bay, Sri Lanka.

It is bizarre to be here and kind of pretend that life is going on as usual, for it has developed a new flavor and feel then previously experienced.

I am quite caught up at present in a number of projects which need attention. But in truth my heart is keen and eager to actively support the healing and rebuilding of people’s lives and of the environment.

This kind of event and people’s suffering in such a scale, makes me review life’s values, meaning and purpose more than ever before. An earthquake has truly shaken our souls. Who knows how many veils of illusion it will manage to remove...how many hearts to open....I have heard that the earth’s axis has shifted by this quake. I feel that the human core too, has vibrated and moved.



A mother outside her house “Tent"

Somehow this event is giving me more focus in completing and bringing my projects ahead so that then I can apply my life’s purpose to the new phase, that which my heart longs for.I am happy to support your project in whatever way I can, so let me know what I can do.

I have started to do daily practices for the dead with members of my Buddhist community and it feels positive and appropriate to do so.

From Lucilla (UK)
(This is a part of a letter to timothy)

I’m 16. Besides, I’m a girl, I’m just a girl. And in the wake of the Tsunami tragedy that has swept across Asia recently, killing thousands, displacing millions, and ruining many, I have been wishing, for the first time since I was about 10 running around in shorts with short hair, that I wasn’t a girl. That instead, I was a boy. Many times I’ve argued with my brothers, or my male friends, many times I have felt distressed and useless. Many, many times I’ve defended myself when people have said things like ‘If your going to volunteer in any of the affected areas machang, don’t take the girls. They’ll only become a pain’. Many times have I wondered in frustration what on earth they are talking about. Yet, after long hours of endless arguing and fighting, I am learning to keep quiet. Let them talk. They’ll see.

Since the 26th, the day on which the Tsunami occurred in all it’s hideous glory, the tiny country has been wrapped in chaos and utter pandemonium. The death toll rises daily, having started considerably small from about 2000, and is currently tipping the scale of credibility at about 30,000. The enormity of the disaster is simply that : unbelievable. Of course, I haven’t been directly affected. All week long, I’ve been hearing horror stories about those who survived, and those who didn’t survive. About those who survived, and those who didn’t. And in the middle of the gargantuan loss of lives, property, homes and land, millions are displaced, homeless, suffering from diseases, injuries and mental trauma that can’t be treated soon enough. Numbers that only make one’s mouth hang open in shock are mourning the loss of loved ones, the loss of home, a place to live, of everything they own, of a dignified lifestyle. They suffer in camps; women have their periods, children are dying from disease, thousands of corpses decompose in local morgues, and authorities struggle to feed and clothe everyone while trying to provide them with the needed medical facilities. Sri Lanka has changed geographically, the land having caved in from the South and the East. We’re no longer a pearl, or a pear, or a tear drop. We’re a drowning blob in the Indian Ocean, gasping for our share of air, and fighting to rise from the ashes. While all hell has broken lose in the Southern and Eastern coastal areas, I continue to live my pathetic, sheltered life in Colombo, with all my party clothes and my mobile phone. Or so one would think. I however would like to think, things have changed for me.

The only way to fight the depression was to dive into some work. Since I’m on school holidays, it means I’m at home, doing next to nothing, or out with my friends, doing next to nothing important. This happened, and threw me out to sea. Not literally, thankfully, but the feeling was quite the same. My whole life, my entire 16 years of existence started to feel superficial, shallow and insignificant. I wallowed in misery, watching the morbid footage on news, and reading ghastly stories on the papers. It’s all anyone could talk about. It’s all I could think about. The magnitude of the disaster was truly overwhelming. Maybe it’s in my blood, maybe it’s the Interactor in me, whatever it was, was screaming at me to do something. To get in there, get involved, and help. This was when I was told I couldn’t visit Galle with my brother and mother the very next day. That I couldn’t volunteer in Batticaloa, or go down to the South to help those stationed in camps. Although I understood the dire situation, and the barbaric living conditions that one would have to deal with were they to visit any of the areas affected right away, I was stunned that the lamest of all excuses seemed the most used. I am a girl.



Subha now a volunteers at TRF, here she is with some of her students!

Since last Sunday, I have been trying to make myself feel better. I have been on a mission to sacrifice whatever time I spend doing nothing, at the various places and organizations collecting donations in Colombo. I have packed, carried, lifted, sealed, sorted and loaded dry rations, clothes, books, shoes, medicine, soap and linen by the amazing tons. Their collected in ceiling scraping mountains. And that feeling is somewhat relieving. The feeling that there are thousands of people in the city alone that are willing to give so generously, but most of all, that somewhere, somehow, I am being useful. It has been my only source of consolation. I have bumped into, and worked with many people that I’ve never met, but also with many of my friends and other youngsters from in and around the city. Everyone is friendly, efficient, and enthusiastic. They never tire. It’s really refreshing.

Two days ago however, I took a larger step. One might say a small leap, after having hopped around for 5 days. Together with some of my friends, I got involved in a damage assessment project being carried out by the Ministry of Defense. The ministry’s claim was that the main issue was the lack of system and organization. Unknown to us Colombo people, a lot was going on in the wake of the disaster. Women were being gang raped, trucks carrying donations were being hijacked, conmen and thieves were stealing food stuff and clothes from the camps by the truck loads, and the donations were being misdirected heavily. Things would go from bad to worse, if nothing was done. What they need, they said, is a system that works around the entire country. We were to carry out the experiment. If successful, it would be the prototype for a planning system everywhere. The three key words were: order, organization, and control. 10 of us were sent with Special Task Force officials escorting us, making us feel rather important, into the Mattakkuliya and Modera areas in northern Colombo which were ruined by the tsunami. We were to assess the damage.

Five days after the calamity, the situation was slowly calming down. Three large churches, St. Mary’s, St. James and De Mazenod were the main providers of shelter and aid to these people in need. The local schools, community centers and church halls were housing the displaced people who had no homes to return to, providing a temporary refuge to those who needed time and resources to return to their ruined homes and start cleaning up. Because these people live mainly in poor slum communities between the sea and the Kelani river, they were caught by surprise when both bodies of water began rising to surround the pockets of habitation and crash in on their homes. The waters swept away many of the wooden structures and whatever was inside them; those fortunate enough to own cement structures suffered the loss of money and property. Everyone lost everything. Cupboards, beds, mattresses, cooking utensils, electrical appliances, and even livelihoods due to the loss of boats and implements. ‘Nothing is left’, they cried to us. They survived with only their clothes on their backs.

Even in this small area, six bodies were found, and one remains missing. We visited over seven camps, and saw over 3000 displaced people. The small St. Mary’s Community Center was the worst off. It had 76 people living in it. Many had rashes on their feet due to standing in contaminated water; conjunctivitis had spread like wild fire amongst everyone, both young and old alike. There had been no doctor to visit them since they were brought there, last Sunday. A small 4 year old boy, who had slipped and fallen during one of his 4 year old antics, had very neatly split his forehead open. The mother, young Dilani Priyangika is the randomly appointed ‘in–charge’ of the refugees there. Unable to give the wound the stitches it needed, she had dressed it with whatever medical aid they were given on the first day. When we visited, the wound had obviously been infected, and forced his left eye almost completely shut with swelling. Dilani, however, has bigger worries. As the person in charge, she sees it as her duty to make sure everyone is fed and kept alive. She says no aid comes their way, and whenever it does, conmen and robbers come and steal it for themselves, sometimes donning the guise of a refugee, when really, they are not. Although they have clean water for drinking, and have toilet facilities in the building, she says they are not attended to, due to there being much larger damage in other areas. Most importantly, they have no access to a doctor, nor do they have organized, educated personnel to run this place the way it should be run. On the contrary, the church run camps are equipped and efficient. They have credible records of all their residents, and are fully prepared to feed and clothe anyone who does not have a home.

What was heartbreaking though, were the affected areas itself. Small patches of slums have been entirely damaged if not washed away. RFK Watta had witnessed the only deaths in the area. Kadirana, Pichchamal Watta, Summitpura, and Gemunupura had been underwater till as recently as Friday. I looked around at the angry yet sad people who returned to the sites of their homes during the daytime, and at what remained of their homes. Occasionally one could see a plank or two, or a ceiling sheet, all that was left toshow us that a home had once stood there. I thought to myself ‘how unbelievable the damage must be on the coast… in Galle, in Batticaloa. How simply colossal.’The people complained of their loss, but also of neglect. They told us that we were the first people to visit their destroyed homes. There had been no government officials, not even from the Grama Sevaka’s office, or from the Municipality, looking into the damage and the disaster caused last Sunday. They felt they had been left to fend for themselves. Although the churches have been making sure that the communities get the required food and clothing, the municipality has broached only one of the above mentioned areas to help clean up the dense mud and filth that lay in places that were once homes to families. The unhygienic situation caused by the mud that has come in with the water from the river, as well as all the garbage that came in with the river water has made it impossible for most to bring their children back to their homes. One father says all he wants is for his family to be under the same roof again. One mother says all she wants is someone to help rebuild her humble home. Many children said all they want is a clean home to go back to.

These areas have gotten no media coverage, nor have they gotten the attention of the local government authorities in whose hands their fates lie. And now, right now, I feel I have helped. Those people needed someone to listen patiently to their lamenting, someone to yell at and take their anger out on, someone to visit their homes and tell them that they had every right to feel the way they did, to carry those children, and play their first game with them since the water engulfed their homes and dragged away their school books, someone to gather the information and hand it over to the Ministry with the promise that action will be taken soon, someone to instill some hope, hope that was thought lost a long time ago.

At our briefing at the Ministry, when a STF officer handed out some gruesome and graphic photos of the bodies and the damage in Galle, he took them away the moment they touched my hands. He thought me too sensitive and unfit to see those pictures. ‘You’re a girl’ he told me, like I didn’t already know that all too well.

Well this girl is helping. She is doing what she can.

Subha

From the time that I was a kid, the sea was one of my favorite places. Whenever I had to choose between the pool and the sea, the sea was always my first choice. Some of the best times in my life have been by the sea, or sometimes, in the sea. My earliest memories are of my sister and I holding onto my fathers legs when the waves came in. We had so much of fun pretending that we were getting washed away but always knew that my father would be there to ‘rescue’ us in case we did.

One memory which I will always hold close to my heart was when my sister, my friend Deanne who I known since I was five and consider my ‘other’ sister and 2 crazy Indian friends of hers named Sameer and Mayur, spent one entire day in the ocean in Beruwala. My sister and I had a particular place that we considered ‘ours’ since we were small and we spent the entire day there, the whole day in the water, talking, varying from topics like life to love to even quoting our favourite lines from ‘Finding Nemo’ (something which I believe that EVERYONE should do at some point !!!!!) Despite the fact that we missed lunch (even though the red rice, pol sambol and fish which the poor hotel staff managed to give us in the evening from probably one of the best meals I’ve ever had) and Deanne ending up with a sunstroke, we had so much fun. I still think about that day when I feel down. When one of my best friends in Australia, Radhini, came down a few months ago, I took her there along with Deanne. I showed her the place where we had been and told her how much fun we had. we had planned to do the same that day, but as we didn’t have time, we just had time to dip our feet in the water. Now I wish Radhini and I had gotten into the water.

Thinking about that made me remember Marble Beach in Trinco. Radhini and I went there December 2003 and … it just makes me smile. Someone told me that Marble beach is no more. I hope it’s not true. That weekend Radhs and I jumped into the sea whenever possible, the last beach we visited being Marble Beach. The people we came with practically had to drag the two of us from the water. I can’t remember how long we were there but at that time life was just perfect. My best friend and the sea ….. What more could I have asked for?

After the whole Tsunami experience, I can never look at the sea the same way I did. As I watched the footage of places I knew so well I felt sad. When I saw the state of the beaches in Thailand, I wanted to cry. The beaches in Thailand, especially Phuket, were my favorite out of all the places I’ve been. When I think of Arugam Bay, the place that Deanne and I told every single person in India about and the plans we made, just makes me want to go back in time when Arugam Bay was a magical place, still in existence.



Iromi also now a volunteer at TRF and helps a lot with admin work

I went down to Hambantota the other day. The sea was so beautiful, so peaceful. As I passed all the places I knew so well, it was saddening because I could barely recognize some. The sea in Weligama looked so inviting. Normally, I would’ve at least wet my feet there. But visions of destroyed cities and people were still fresh in my mind.

The love I felt for this great thing is gone. How can something so wonderful cause so much destruction and pain in the way it did? For me now, the sea represents horror. I don’t think I would ever be able to run into the sea the way I used. Me being the freaky phobic that I am would imagine being smacked in the face by a dead body if I ever did get into the sea. Seems sad somehow ….. I had always wanted a house by the sea. I always wanted to get married by the sea. And I feel this even though I wasn’t directly affected by the tidal wave. Scary. I really hope I’ll be able to get over this soon.

I feel like this even though I never experience the tidal wave. I can’t imagine how the people who did actually lived through it feels. It was scary enough when Timmy went missing and so many people I knew lost their lives. I saw enough and more pictures to last me a lifetime. I’m sick of watching tv and seeing destruction. I’m sick of ‘tsunami stories’ being the subject of every conversation. I’m disgusted when I hear about the sick things people are doing to gain something for themselves.



One of many work shops with TRF – “A Ray of hope program”

But I don’t want to think about any of that. That’s why I’m helping out everyway possible. Whether it’s lifting or packing or sorting out stuff, I’m all for it. I even helped make tea for 1500 people in a shelter in Mattakuliya. I don’t even make tea at home. I feel better because I know that I have helped, I know that I have made a difference. But it doesn’t stop. I will keep going till there is nothing left to do. That’s why I have thrown my self into working with two organizations. I don’t want to stop and think about the things I’ve seen and the survivors I have spoken to. I’m scared I’ll go crazy or something if I actually realize the magnitude of this whole thing.

Life goes on for everyone and everything happens for reason. But that’s no excuse for anyone to be not doing anything. It’s up to us, the lucky ones to help others to move on with their lives. I don’t want to think back on this time a few years later and think I should’ve helped more. I think all of us see life a little differently now. We’re all grateful for what we have and we see how lucky we are. It’s great to see so many people helping out and doing whatever they can. Shows that there is a silver lining after all.

Tsunami Relief Foundation

Michal’s Story

Tsunami in Unawatuna, Sri LankaThe evening before 26th December me and Timothy had spent with the Lamberts family – Mother Lucilla, and two daughters – Gaya and Nayma. They came to Negombo on one of these “all-inclusive”deals but decided to go down south to Unawatuna and that’s where we met them.Saturday was a beautiful day, all wrapped in an awesome sunshine and smoothen with a nice breeze.

We had sat with old Samson drinking arrack and smoking spliffs. Prasad was around serving drinks, Sunil was tying his hammock. Everything had its order and place.It all appears to me to had happened in one simple glance of an eye. Everything exists. Then you blink and everything is gone. It wipes off memories of the past leaving scenes of horrifying apocalypse under your eyelids. There is no past left then.I was sleeping at that time. Timothy shouted at me to wake me up. I got up from bed and looked through the window. There was an indescribable mass of water coming. I have never seen anything like this.




Tsunami Distraction

The water had already reached the beach. I jumped back, and in the same time I had looked at the clock in my mobile.It was 9.32 am. Second later water hit our Beach House and our room on the ground floor.The water had thrown us against the wall. I think both of us tried to scream from pain, but there was only water around, so we swallowed it instead.

We had struggled to survive, as the water kept rising. The next wave flushed a man with his daughter into our room. I got thrown against the wall, but somehow I hit a mattress that also went there. That girl kept asking “what shall we do”, and Tim said the only thing we can do is to prey. So we prayed.Tim really kept his guts together and behaved intelligently, I wanted to escape the room but he told us to stay.

That might had probably saved our lives as the water was so strong, that it took everything with it – cars, trishaws, debris from destroyed buildings and took it inland.On one point we had almost lost the space in our room as it got filled with water, although our room was around 1,5 as tall as the normal rooms and, most importantly, it didn’t collapse as most of the others. We were fighting to save ourselves.When the water went down a bit we managed to get out. I took that small daughter and helped her reach a safe place on the top of the roof.




Tsunami Distraction

Tim went somewhere to help. I lost eyesight with him. Then I got back to this father that had been flushed into our room and we started looking for his other daughter. We’ve been shouting her name, but I don’t recall it now. We had been walking without any shoes, with water to our thighs. The place was one of a debris.

The buildings opposing the beach were mostly gone. Then I saw owner of the Happy Banana. She was dead. I used to stay in Happy Banana every time I had gone to Unawatuna (more than 10 times) and I talked with her a lot. That was a sad image. She must had been working in an open space so she just drowned.. Then I saw the leftovers of the Happy Banana.There was a boat thrown inside restaurant and some people walking mindlessly around, screaming. Dead bodies were scattered around. At that point I still didn’t realize how big the damage was. I also don’t know how come I didn’t cut myself there, walking through all that chaos and debris. I also didn’t feel the pain from the injuries, I thought I’m ok.I went back to see Timothy.

I glanced at the Unawatuna Bay and there was no water in it. Somehow the whole water, up to the rocks in the distance, had been dragged out. The sea looked like pure evil and I realized that this water will come back. I was in a shock.There was only screaming around.I met Tim and we packed our backpacks with what had been left and started escaping inland. Our room was the only one not destroyed by the wave.

I remember that the other day owner of Benny’s asked us whether we would like to move to a different room (our lock got jammed). The one he had offered was nicer and opposing the sea with its front but somehow I decided against it and waited till the lock was fixed. There was not much left from these other rooms after the tidal. If we would move there we would probably be dead by now.We went back to the road.

On one point we had been helping one old lady by supporting her from both sides. I went to see my friends - Giulyanna and Peter, they were ok. As I saw the empty bay I tried to convince them to escape inland, but they would not listen. I tried and tried but without success.That was frustrating. Then we reached one untouched rest house inland where we stayed for a while. People were freaked out there looking at us. We had a cup of coffee. Tim got his leg bandaged there but I didn’t last for long.Tim said he wants to see whether Lamberts family is ok. I decided to go with him.

It was not as hard decision to be made as it appears to me now. I guess that shock switched me into some kind of a survival mode – I didn’t feel any pain, encumbrance or weakness. After some ten minutes we went back. All the people were running from the village screaming and we were the only ones that were going back.There was a foreign woman with wet curly hair being carried by one Sinhalese, and her boyfriend following them and crying. His face was one of a complete grief.

We had reached the Rock House and met Lamberts. There were a lot of people that also found their refuge there. The shock started going away, I felt tired and pain on my right leg and side of my chest.After some minutes we had been alarmed that there is a new wave spotted. We run up to the temple that was a few meters above us. While I was climbing, a man behind me on a lower rock was carrying a young Sinhalese boy of around 10 years.I took this boy from him and went up. There I stood on the rock looking at Unawatuna.



A family in a camp

There was no more place to escape further so we had to wait and hope we will not be taken with water. I was tapping the kid. It cried into my shoulder and its heart was pounding like crazy so I tried to calm it down. It closed its eyes and just cried. I wanted to cry with that baby but couldn’t at that point.The water didn’t reach the Rock House, however the second wave was stronger. It had smashed the buildings even more but most of the people already managed to escape. I guess the second wave reached the coast after around perhaps 45 minutes or one hour.That was enough time to escape for those who survived.Lamberts family – Lucilla, Gaya and Namya were doing a great work helping us out, getting us food to eat, accompanying the injured ones – a lady from Boston that had lost her husband and an English guy named Stewart to name few.

I think their help really made it possible for people not to collapse in trauma, as they spent time with them helping in every way they could. We had shared room with them and everything they had – any social barriers became reluctant, people got very closely together.We had had no information whatsoever of what had really happened. We had been told that Maldives and Thailand is gone. The picture of apocalypse got into my head.

It was difficult to fight with it but working helped a lot in overcoming the trauma. There was a body of a small child delivered to the Rock House to his mother. A man cried and was screaming “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”. The mother took the child and felt it warm body. She started screaming that the boy might still be alive and I rushed to find a doctor. I found one but the baby was dead.At that point I couldn’t stand it anymore. I went to the temple up rocks with a piece of paper and a pen. I sat, looked at the blank piece and started crying. I couldn’t then and still cannot understand why all of these people died. They had no time whatsoever to say their last words or prepare for death.

They drown after a struggle they couldn’t bare. They died so dramatically, and when we saw the bodies, the faces expressed so much fear, the hands that probably tried to grab something were opened with the fingers stretched. That was a cruel death. And I couldn’t understand how come we had been left alive.. I always thought that you can fight with death if you really try to.But it was wrong, I was wrong, because what had saved us was Tim’s decision not to leave the room combined with a lot of luck.We had been close with Lambert’s family for the time we were in the Rock House Hotel. Timothy was getting weaker, we couldn’t eat much because of the things we did there.

The pain in the side of my body started getting stronger and I found it difficult to carry any weight. My leg was also in pain. I really wanted not to do the things I did but every time I thought about it I knew that there are just too many people in trauma and If we wouldn’t help, who could help then? There was not enough water, food, the bodies started getting rotten and we had many injured people that had to face their pain. I wish I could say I’m a tough guy, but I was scared many times there.Every time I had to face myself, my own fear, not the situation itself.

The reason of the struggle was that I wanted to survive and doing the things we did was just as on the other side of surviving as it can be possible. I guess I was quite unfortunate to go to Unawatuna with the bravest person I met in my life. I feel that fighting with me was the most difficult part of being there. I also know that Lamberts sensed that and wanted to talk with me about it, but I was not prepared for this kind of a talk yet because it would make me soft and I had to stay tough.Tim had been said to stop moving but he found it difficult. It was not an option not to help. There were more than enough people in a deep trauma and somebody had to help them. Lucilla, Nayma and Gaya were so sweet, that they helped us with our injuries, made sure we’re taking the medicines we had.They even gave me trousers, t-shirts and flip-flops. I didn’t have time to say thanks to them but I know we’ll meet up later so I’ll do that.

There were few Brits (Jake, Kevin and few others) that started getting things organized so we worked together. Few doctors (on vacations) were doing great job of providing support and medical treatment to the injured. I’m not sure whether this people slept at all. Remarkable ones, they always had proper words and warmth to be given to people and there were perhaps more than 200 people gathered. They must have saved some lives. Stewart was dealing with his wounds and I think he got gangrene. I saw his picture in the newspaper few days ago and I’m really happy he made it through.We run out of supplies and decided to try to get some from inland. We went together with Tim.

That was the second run.When I saw how confused and angry the sea was, with all the debris around and dead bodies, I was on the edge of breaking, but Tim insisted on going. He moved towards the village. I looked at the sea and tried to put my thoughts together. I managed to calm myself and I joined Tim. We picked up some supplies and run back. We had been warned about the next wave so we hoped to reach the place before it hits. The way back was tough as there was no road but we made it through.The hours were passing. Carrying the stuff last time made my side feel like the definition of pain.

I tried to sleep but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to complain too much so I left that to myself.I saw that Tim was on the edge of breaking down physically but he just kept pushing on and on. Many people told him to stop but he would not listen to them. He joked a lot and made people smile. I was rather quiet and judged a lot in my life. That was a way for me to find more strength I needed. I told myself that I’m not going with the waves and I decided to stick to this idea pretty much. We also organized ourselves so if the wave hits we would be able to escape in a proper way.Then we made the next run for supplies. We managed to convince some guys to go with us, I think we had around 8 people in total. When we went out from the Rock House, Sri Lankans started shouting at us that there is a tidal coming and it had just hit Hikkaduwa, which lies approximately 30 kilometers from Unawatuna.

Most of the guys turned and went back, but there was one guy from UK – Neil that stayed with us. We ran again and picked up some supplies. We had then started moving towards the sea again, and all the people were running opposite direction shouting at us that there is a wave coming. I tried to stop Tim from going by saying that we should wait till the wave hits and then go.Tim didn’t listen and I didn’t like the fact that he had moved.

This was a completely unnecessary risk and I was quite angry with it. But I knew that if we start arguing the precious time will run and Tim had already shown he’s not the one to be convinced if he thinks otherwise. This time we were risking too much if we could just stop and wait a bit. But Timothy insisted on going and so we did that walk, because I would have never forgiven myself to let him go and not be there if the wave would come to hit again.I guess these runs made me tougher. So we went together. I was carrying too much and felt that my side will fall apart from my body but I managed to deliver what we had.


We also picked some crates of soft drinks from a destroyed shop. On one point, close to the hotel, Tim was lagging behind some meters. I checked if he’s ok and run to drop the supplies. Then I returned and picked his crate and we went back together.As we came back again Lamberts family treated us. Some time later we carried the most injured people to the helicopter that came in a rescue mission.That was a long walk through the mud but we had managed not to fall with the patients. I remember Stewart waving to us when the helicopter started going. I was happy to see he’s being rescued because he really needed help. We made our move back and did some other job.

The creams put on my side started helping and I felt bit better. But up till now, which is 10 days after the accident, my muscles on the side of my chest keep hurting.I guess it will last for some more time.The situation got calmer. First car (Mitsubishi Pajero) delivered some medical stuff Tuesday morning. The bodies were gathered in the Rock House, they already started stinking and so we decided to bury them. We dug a big hole, and the bodies were taken to the grave. That was a very sad view. I didn’t have a contact with dead bodies before.

Guys made photographs and the bodies were put into the grave. Later on that day we went to check if the bulldozer that came closed the grave. Unfortunately it didn’t so Neil and I closed it. That was hard, I really expected the people just to stand up and get out from that hole. But they didn’t so we covered them with a layer of black ground. The smell was already a nasty one. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. We went back with Neil and put our thoughts together again. This thing hit us hard.On Tuesday afternoon Rock House got coaches’ transport to the British Consulate in Colombo.Tim was very weak that time, he was already vomiting. I’d stayed to make sure everybody is on the buses and came back with the last batch of people. When they left I went back to the Benny’s place, to look at our grave. I saw a beautiful sight – the drops of water were glimmering in the sun.

Then I got to Colombo, and went home. Tried to sleep but couldn’t. The next 2 days I’ve spent writing ask for help as I was too weak to do anything else. I saw my photo printed on sheets of paper my colleagues used to find if I’m ok. This looked like necrology and was really freaky.After that I was taken to the hospital because I got pretty much dehydrated and exhausted. I was thinking about leaving Sri Lanka and going back to Poland, but after some thought process I decided to stay and help. I quit my job in Colombo and got involved into help programs. And I know I made the right decision.

I’m not a tough guy. I’m just another normal being on this planet. I found that I’m weak and rather soft in a case of a tragedy like this. But I guess that in order to be better a constant struggle with oneself is needed, if one wants to be better.And that was what I had decided there in the Rock House. Because we should share the luck we had been given with those unlucky ones. All of us are human beings that should be able to count on others. And everybody can help, even in the slightest way.If I wouldn’t be struck with this tidal, I might had behaved differently. So I tried to pay off for what I’ve been given. A new life.And another start.

If you can, please help us help the people. We’re organizing some transports and trauma treatments but we’re afraid that in two weeks the world will forget of what have happened here, in Indonesia and other affected countries.

If you’re willing to help, in any way, please send me an e-mail at

michal@outreachsrilanka.com

And if you think this story can make people make effort, please pass it as well.

Thank you for reading,
Michal Przedlacki,

Poland-Sri Lanka.

Timothy's experience in the Indian Ocea

Tsunami December 2004

It was the 26th morning I think at about 9am.I was in Unawatuna with a friend (Michael), when the waves hit. The building was only 20 meters from the sea. The rooms facing the sea were completely washed away. Our room was not facing the sea and so lost only its door. Our room was the only room left standing. I still don’t know why I am alive when a lot of others died. Its not fair. I hate everything about this. Everything!



We were sleeping and suddenly I woke up for no reason. Not knowing why, I looked out the room window and saw the wave coming through the window. I woke Michael up just as the wave broke in and the water level rapidly began to rise (15 feet).

As the room door broke, the water washed in a foreigner and his daughter (6 years old I think)The little girl kept asking her father “what shall we do? What shall we do?” The father and Michael wanted to leave the room but I said “no we are going to stay in, and not go out”, the only thing that stopped me from panicking was the little girl on my shoulder.

I said the only thing we can do is pray, and I convinced everyone in the room to stay, even as the water kept rising till we were 7 inches from the ceiling. We floated up and held on to the ceiling fixture and breathed the air trapped between the water and the roof. And the then the water started to go down at some point; I still don’t know how long we hung on to the fans.

My first instinct was to run out and look to see if anyone needed help, and I did find many (at least 4 people, and about 3 dogs that I put on top of the roofs!) That’s when I cut my feet on the corral.I helped a fat Sri Lankan lady, who was crying "oh my god, oh my god. Why did this happen?” I couldn't move her, so I just pulled her out and placed her as high as I could on some construction planks lying nearby.

I also found a little girl who was stuck. She ran off after I released her and that was a relief. I don’t know who she was but she just ran inland.Then I helped some other Sri Lankan people... My feet were bleeding badly from the coral cuts by now.


At one point, the whole bay had emptied and the naked seabed looked like hell on earth, with the rubble from the land that sea had dragged back scattered all over it.After all this I ran back to the main road with Michael, there were dead bodies all over, people running all over; it was as if the whole world has gone crazy.

I got to the main road (700m away) and went in to a hotel; some people gave us some tea and bandaged my wounds. Michael was in shock, and I did not know what to do or say to help him. A foreign tourist (nurse I think) bound up my foot.


Then this family that we had met the night before came to my mind, and I told Michael that I was going back to find them. It was hard for us to go back as we were both injured, and besides we were the only ones heading back towards the beach with everybody else heading in the opposite direction.


I did something very unfair I think, by asking Michael to come along; it was very hard for him and kind of mean of me to ask him to! But I am so thankful he did.We made it to this hotel called the Rock House, which was on top of the hill, and it seemed like all the world had turned up there! I saw my friends – the Lambert family - from afar and I felt so much joy and peace in my heart. I just said thank you God!Michael and I decided that we were going to stay with them till this ended.


At some point someone shouted that there was another wave coming our way, so everyone ran up the hill again. It was crazy as no one knew what was going on or what to do. We ended up at the temple on the top of the hill, where we found shade among the trees. Just then the 2nd wave hit, it came a bit closer to the hotel, but this time no one was hurt! We were all safe, but confused about what to do! After some time we all went back to the hotel only to find that the water had not come there, so we stayed there for some time.


But the problem was there was no water or food or anything there, no one had been prepared for something like this. So I told Michael that we needed to go back to the road and get some stuff from one of the shops there. He said “NO!”, but as usual I did not listen and just got a bag and any cash I could find and set off. Michael gave in and we ran to the road. Both of us were injured and my feet were hurting like hell, but I knew this had to be done. We got to the road only to find out that all the shops were closed, so we hunted down the owner and got it opened from the back so that we could get our hands on some water, food, candles and whatever else that was available.

Getting back to the hotel was not made easier by the rumors of another wave on its way, but we pushed on. Michael was having a difficult time with his injuries I knew, but I just keep pushing him on and on.

We got to the hotel and still no wave had come our way. I soon realized that the food and water we had brought back was not enough for all of us. So I decided to head back to the beach where I found some cool boxes that had got washed away from the hotels, with cool drinks still in them. I filled a bag with these and returned to the hotel.

That night we found out that all the roads were closed and that we would be stuck here for another 3-4 days at least. Michael and I had gotten so close to the Lambert’s that we felt like we were a part of their family. They were so worried about us and did their very best to take care of us. They wanted us to sit down and rest, but we could not as there was so much to be done.I had found some strength in me that even I was unaware of until that moment.

It was as if I was a new person. Shan, the doctor who dressed my wounds, asked me not to move around, but that was the one thing I could not do! I said to her, “If you stop to rest, then so will I”. She had 3 kids to take care of but she was untiring in her efforts to help others.The hotel provided daal and rice that night for everyone, but I don’t think any of us ate anything. I tried sleeping but even that did not help! Nightmare after nightmare ensured that I got no rest.
I got thinking about the hotel owners…they were not that well off, but there they were taking care of 200 people for free. How were they doing this? Then there was Shan, who had a big family of 3 kids but could not be with them as she was desperately needed by so many others. At one point I said to her, “Shan, you are a heroine!” But she just turned to me and said, “The real heroes are my kids, they have been so good and helpful!

Just out side the room where we were sleeping, was an old English man – Stewart. His wounds were so severe that I half expected him to die any moment. He could not even lie down as his back throbbed and his ribs were broken. He was incredibly brave though and kept up a constant stream of funny jokes and kept the rest of us laughing. The Lambert’s were like a team of angels, who went around trying to do what ever they could to help! I think they took such good care of Stewart that he made it through; I made it through some things also thanks to them.

That night we slept with only the light of the moon and one or two candles to keep us company.More people had come in through the night and most of them were wounded. Everyone who was able got involved and began to care for them. Here, nobody was being selfish; it was like one big family, like it’s supposed to be. Everyone rose above the usual social barriers and came together and did what needed to be done.

Again we heard “The waves are coming!” We all ran up the hill, to the side of the temple then came back down again when we realized that there wasn’t going to be another tsunami. This happened several times and soon we all smartened up, resolving to verify our facts before taking any action. We also decided to make our retreat in a more orderly fashion, making sure that everyone was moved and no one was left behind by chance.

We realized there were no provisions for the night, so Michael and I collected money from everyone who had it, and went to buy food and water. We got a team of about 7 strong men together. Most of them abandoned us near the road however, when they heard the rumors of another wave. Only Michael, I and one other brave man resolved to push on. At one point, they both wanted to turn back. I wouldn’t hear of it, and when they tried to head back I just kept going on and so forced them to follow me. I realize now that it was not right for me to push these people like this, but I really felt that we needed these supplies.

We got to the road and got the same shop opened. This time, however, they were not going to give us all we asked for. They had begun to ration things. I told the shop owner that there was like 250-300 people at Rock House (The name of the hotel), but he would not believe me. So we just took what we could get and returned to the hotel. Our bags were full of all the water and food that we could find. Their weight made walking increasingly difficult. Another alert had been sounded and everyone on the beach was moving inland. The 3 of us were the only ones running in the opposite direction.



This time even I began to feel frightened. The others wanted to take another path, one that was supposedly safe but way longer. I knew I would not be able to make that walk as my feet were killing me. If we cut through the beach though, it would be infinitely easier and more importantly would take ten minutes at the most. So against the wishes of the other two, I began to head that way. I thought they had decided to opt out as they didn’t follow me. Once they realized that there would be no turning me from that path however, they relented and decided to come with me; only on one condition though - we would run all the way.

That turned out to be the one thing I could not do. I did try my best to run, but my feet hurt so badly. On our way, just in front of the beach, I saw a broken-down shop with 3 crates of drinks in front. I knew the water we were carrying would not be enough by far and so I got in to the shop and called the boys back. Each of us hoisted a crate of drinks.

Now our loads had doubled (or even tripled) and my feet were starting to feel like jelly. The other two men ran fast, but I was so far behind that I soon I had lost sight of them. Thankfully Michel came back and asked me if I was ok. I told him I felt fine and encouraged him to keep going. I also asked him to drop of his stuff and come back to help with mine, if he could manage it.


I stopped a man who was running away from the beach and he helped me put the case of drinks on top of my head. It was only once I had it there that I remembered the 3 day old hairline fracture I had at the base of my skull. Now my head began to hurt like hell. I got the case down and sat on fallen pillar from where I could see the beach clearly. I looked around me and I saw something crazy.

I saw a man's face in the sand and thought it was a dead body buried under the sand, but it turned out to be the face alone. It had been ripped off and was lying on the sand.I was only 5 meters away from the beach and the whole place was deserted. The sea looked mad and angry and I said to it, “If you are going to take me you will have to take this crate of drinks with me, coz there’s no way I’m going back without it.” I got to my feet again and started to walk back with the drinks, I was making very slow progress, but I was getting there. I was within 20 meters of the hotel when Michael came back to help me, like he said he would.





I got to the hotel and there more people had turned up. The boys kept saying “good job”, but the smiles of the Lambert family made it all worth while, they were they best! They helped me to the room and after I had drunk a little water, I rested for half an hour.
By this time they had begun to bring in the dead. I hauled a lot of bodies out and we all grieved for them, but my eyes remained dry. I am normally a person who cries a lot, but this time my eyes would not release my tears. I wanted so much to cry but I could not.


The bodies were not recognizable, so the grief we felt was disconnected and generalized. At some point a man from the beach walked in with a dead baby and he gave it to its mother... that killed me. I tried not to cry, not to let them see me cry. But in my heart I did. I asked my self how can a God that says he loves us this much, hurt us this much? I didn’t want to fall apart; I wanted to keep it together so that I could do whatever needed to be done. There were things I was willing to do that others were not, like move dead bodies... someone had to do it and I was able to, so I did it.

I thought I was holding back the tears for others but now I think I was doing it for me. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to feel...
I felt guilty too. Because I knew that once I got back to Colombo that I would be ok. All these foreign tourists would also go home and be ok, but the local Sri Lankans were another matter all together.

They had lost everything - their families, their belongings and their livelihood... the fishermen for instance. I can't imagine what it must be like for them. So I spent more time with them than I did with the foreigners...
So many bodies, rotting. The stench will never leave me. I can still smell it here now. All the perfumes we put on, wouldn’t make the stench go away. I told the boys that we needed to take photos of the dead but also look for tattoos or birth marks that would help families identify them, The bodies were so badly decomposed, and the smell made me want to vomit and vomit all over again, but I could not.

We found this foreign woman whose body was in a pretty bad state. When I tried to lift her, her hands came off, and there were maggots all over. The worst part was the smell… I don’t have the words to describe it. We wrapped her up in a big sheet and left her there. We must have covered around 10 other bodies on both sides of the road.

There were many more but I could not do more. So we went back to the hotel and took care of the bodies there. The stench was becoming unbearable and if we did not bury the corpses soon no one would be able to remain there. There were about 7 bodies in the hotel - one man, 5 ladies including a pregnant mother and a little baby of about 5-6 months old. Two other bodies were claimed by a local man, who said they were his wife and child (6 months)So that left us with 5 bodies from the hotel. It was so hard to wrap up the pregnant woman as her stomach was starting to open up and any quick movement would mean she would just come apart, especially since by this time her weight had doubled. I was so surprised to see many women coming in to help us deal with the bodies as well.

After that was done we set out to dig graves. By this time more people had started to come into the hotel but only very few of them were trying to help. I was a bit upset about that. We began trying to gather the tools we would need to dig graves. We did not find much but what ever we could use, we used. It was hard work, digging those graves, especially because the sand was still muddy and hard. There were 10 of us there and we were doing our very best. 6 foreigners and 3 locals were helping, and soon we were all feeling incredibly tired. But more foreigners turned up to help and they started to make a path to the graves. After we got to about 6 feet, we stopped as we just could not dig any more. We were going to bury them all in one big grave, to help us cut down on the amount of digging we had to do.

Now all we had to do is bring the bodies to the grave, so we went back to the hotel and loaded them up. The grave was about 500 meters away from the hotel so we had a good walk. The roads were still full of rubble and that managed to further aggravate our injuries.We would take one body at a time and lower it into the grave. By then, a bulldozer had made an appearance and was clearing all the debris off the road.

I had worn clothes that belonged to the Lambert women throughout the period. I had this pair of wrap around pants on, I still have no idea what they are called but they kept slipping off. Once as we were carrying a body to the grave my pants fell off! God! I did not know what to do, I told other 3 men to stop and I put the stretcher on my shoulder and pulled up my pants. That was probably the most embarrassing moment for me. But it made a lot of people around me smile, so it was worth it!

By the time we came to the last body, the bulldozer had cleared most of the road and the going was much easier. The only problem was that as the bulldozer moved the rubble more bodies were found underneath.



By this time I was so tired that I decided to return to the hotel and rest. As soon as I got close to the hotel, Naima one of the Lambert Family girls, came out and helped me back to the room.
She also got a something to drink and I fell asleep on the chair out side. The Lamberts being the angels they are, tried to get me to eat and drink but I was not up to any of that. By this time my body had started to fall apart. I had a high fever, vomiting, and pains all over my body. I still tried to help by playing with the kids around me, but I knew I could not do much now. We went to sleep that night with the all the little candles we could find lit up around us.The next morning a lot of people had managed to find ways to get out from here, but more from the surrounding beaches had started to turn up.

There were a few people (mostly British) who were acting like the leaders of the camp, and were getting things organized. Tim the Doctor was one of them, as was Jake and Shan. There were about 4 others, whose names I can’t quite recall now. They were the heroes to me, as they did all they could voluntarily. I am so thankful for all they did for all of us.

Jake came over to me and told me that we needed more water. And despite Shan telling me I should not go, I decided to try anyway. This time I got the Lambert family to come along as I felt they needed to deal with their fears. I wanted to see the room that I had been in as well ! We all went to the beach and looked around; it was hard for the Lamberts. I could see that Michael was ok and moving around in a much more energetic way.

We got to the beach and then to the hotel room that I had been in and looked around. I felt like I was looking at my grave but that I had just barely escaped it. Michael kept telling me that I am a hard person to kill, and I see that what he says is true. All my friends and family tell me that too, and I believe that, I feel like even God knows I won’t die that easy! I have been close to death so many times in my life; the closest I got was being in a coma for some months. And now this.

We wandered through the rubble and I got to this room that had 3 crates of water and that was like finding gold. I called out to the others and we got them back to the hotel. By this time I was beginning to feel close to burning up and so very weak. I could not do much but when they tried to send me off I said I would not leave without the Lambert family and Michael. The truth is that I wanted to stay and help, and so hoped that I would get well soon.

We were all in a bus by 5.30 pm and it took us 8 hours to get back to Colombo. They told me that Michael and the Lambert family had a place to stay at the BMICH, but when they got there nothing was waiting for them. There were so many people sleeping all over the ground. I called my aunt from there and asked her if they could stay at her place and that’s what we did. The next morning the Lambert family went to Negombo, looking for their stuff which was untouched, thankfully. They came back and said their goodbyes, setting off to the airport immediately after. They are now safely back in the UK!

They call me their spiritual son. It’s crazy what something like this can do to the human spirit, it’s one of the strongest bonds I have seen. All these separations we have created are cast aside at times like this…the truth is we are just one big family, of one kind- “The human kind”. We all feel the same pain and the same sadness, we all have the same needs and we all need a little bit of LOVE.

I’ve told you all this so that you will also give to someone in need a little bit of that human love that there is in you.

As for me I am safe in a room in Colombo. Still have Gastritis and some body pains, but I hate to stay in bed as I know of so many people out there who don’t have anything. I plan on going back there as soon as I get better.

Till then I beg of you:“DO WHATEVER YOU CAN”
Whatever it is, just do it!
Thank you!
Timothy Senaviratne
(SriLanka)
tim_sri@hotmail.com