Dr. Jean Lieu -January 4, 2005 Chennai
January 4, 2005 Chennai, 11:25PM
Suyam finally sent someone to pick me up three hours later. They were waiting for me at the international terminal. I was waiting for them in Domestic. The person they sent spoke English with a heavy Indian accent. It took me some time to get used to it. We went to Suyam headquarters in a van. With the way the driver was driving, I was beginning to think it was more likely that I would be killed in a car accident rather than a tsunami. But we made it to the office in one piece, though my heart was lying somewhere near the pits of my stomach as I hung on to my seat for dear life. How ironic would it be if I were killed even before I got to the field…in car accident of all things. Perish the thought.
I sat in the office patiently as they mobilized their team. We would be visiting one of the fishing villages destroyed by the tsunami later this evening. It was a holy month and they were having difficulty arranging transportation because everyone was going on a pilgrimage. As I waited, they handed me their progress reports so I could catch up with all that had been done. I was thankful for these people. Their hospitality had been impeccable thus far. I saw the sincerity and passion with which they conducted their work, and it inspired me to want to do as much as I can to further their efforts.
As I sat in the van going towards Kovalum, it was the chaotic traffic that scared me more than anything else. As bumpy as the ride was, I finally gave into my drowsiness and was able to nap for half an hour. When we arrived at Kovalum, I couldn't see much water damage because it was dark out. But as we went deeper into the village by foot, I heard the roaring of the waves not too far from where I stood. I felt safe, but the darkness, the sound of the menacing waves crashing onto the shores, vivid memories of my escape out of Vietnam, combined with the knowledge of how ferocious the ocean had been just a few days ago made me feel just a little nervous. But the feeling passed quickly once I met the survivors of the tsunami. They were grateful that we came to help. They earnestly told us that the government had given them 60kg of rice and 4,000 rupees ($1 = 43 rupees) to rebuild their homes. They were anxious to return to normalcy. The first and foremost thoughts on their minds were how they were going to sustain a living for the future. Fishing was their livelihood. Without the necessary tools, their families would starve. Yet I didn't see hopelessness, defeat or resignation in their eyes. I saw anxiousness, but also earnestness and eagerness-an eagerness to get beyond this tragedy, to do what was necessary, to resume life as they knew it before the tsunami claimed what was dear and familiar. Though the tsunami had destroyed their lives and had taken away their loved ones, it didn't destroy their spirits. What I found surprising was that they weren't requesting money. They were requesting the necessary equipment to get them back to being self-reliant. I talked to one villager who owned a shop along the beach who had lost his entire livelihood when his shop was destroyed. He said he was fortunate; his wife and two babies are still alive even though he may be jobless and homeless. He told he had faith in God; Jesus will see him through. He had to rebuild his shop from scratch. The government would be helping the fishermen, but no one will be helping the shop keepers. All he needed was $100 US to get started. But even so, there would be no tourists on that beach for a long time to come. What does the future hold for him and his family? Only God in His infinite wisdom knows the answer.
For the first time in my life, I saw the importance of money. I never really valued monetary wealth. I was comfortable even though I was by no means wealthy. The things I treasured most in life could never be bought. But now, how I wish I had spent a little less and saved a little more. With money comes power-the power to help those in need.
Suyam finally sent someone to pick me up three hours later. They were waiting for me at the international terminal. I was waiting for them in Domestic. The person they sent spoke English with a heavy Indian accent. It took me some time to get used to it. We went to Suyam headquarters in a van. With the way the driver was driving, I was beginning to think it was more likely that I would be killed in a car accident rather than a tsunami. But we made it to the office in one piece, though my heart was lying somewhere near the pits of my stomach as I hung on to my seat for dear life. How ironic would it be if I were killed even before I got to the field…in car accident of all things. Perish the thought.
I sat in the office patiently as they mobilized their team. We would be visiting one of the fishing villages destroyed by the tsunami later this evening. It was a holy month and they were having difficulty arranging transportation because everyone was going on a pilgrimage. As I waited, they handed me their progress reports so I could catch up with all that had been done. I was thankful for these people. Their hospitality had been impeccable thus far. I saw the sincerity and passion with which they conducted their work, and it inspired me to want to do as much as I can to further their efforts.
As I sat in the van going towards Kovalum, it was the chaotic traffic that scared me more than anything else. As bumpy as the ride was, I finally gave into my drowsiness and was able to nap for half an hour. When we arrived at Kovalum, I couldn't see much water damage because it was dark out. But as we went deeper into the village by foot, I heard the roaring of the waves not too far from where I stood. I felt safe, but the darkness, the sound of the menacing waves crashing onto the shores, vivid memories of my escape out of Vietnam, combined with the knowledge of how ferocious the ocean had been just a few days ago made me feel just a little nervous. But the feeling passed quickly once I met the survivors of the tsunami. They were grateful that we came to help. They earnestly told us that the government had given them 60kg of rice and 4,000 rupees ($1 = 43 rupees) to rebuild their homes. They were anxious to return to normalcy. The first and foremost thoughts on their minds were how they were going to sustain a living for the future. Fishing was their livelihood. Without the necessary tools, their families would starve. Yet I didn't see hopelessness, defeat or resignation in their eyes. I saw anxiousness, but also earnestness and eagerness-an eagerness to get beyond this tragedy, to do what was necessary, to resume life as they knew it before the tsunami claimed what was dear and familiar. Though the tsunami had destroyed their lives and had taken away their loved ones, it didn't destroy their spirits. What I found surprising was that they weren't requesting money. They were requesting the necessary equipment to get them back to being self-reliant. I talked to one villager who owned a shop along the beach who had lost his entire livelihood when his shop was destroyed. He said he was fortunate; his wife and two babies are still alive even though he may be jobless and homeless. He told he had faith in God; Jesus will see him through. He had to rebuild his shop from scratch. The government would be helping the fishermen, but no one will be helping the shop keepers. All he needed was $100 US to get started. But even so, there would be no tourists on that beach for a long time to come. What does the future hold for him and his family? Only God in His infinite wisdom knows the answer.
For the first time in my life, I saw the importance of money. I never really valued monetary wealth. I was comfortable even though I was by no means wealthy. The things I treasured most in life could never be bought. But now, how I wish I had spent a little less and saved a little more. With money comes power-the power to help those in need.
posted by JC @ 11:25 PM
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