Ciara O’Driscoll December 26th 2004 : Tsunami
I
t didn’t feel like an earthquake which would register 8.9 on the Richter Scale. Tucked up in my bed in my home in Singapore, it felt rather as if an extremely large lorry had rolled past my window. It was on Boxing Day, 2004, when this ‘lorry’ rolled by, a day which became one no-one living around the South of Asia could forget, no matter how much they wanted to. It was only the day after Christmas, a day usually spent visiting this friend or that relative. But not that year. Instead, the day was spent in front of the television, all eyes glued to the BBC News, as images of the disaster which had occurred that very morning flashed across the screen. A day usually spent in joy and high-spirits instead passed in an eerie silence, every person trying to comprehend what was so incomprehensible. Living in Asia, one has to be prepared for such natural disasters…earthquakes, volcanoes, monsoons, tsunamis all come with the lifestyle. But it seemed no one was prepared for nor expecting this. The lives of 250,000 people…how can you prepare for that? The earthquake began in the Indian Ocean, near Bandah Aceh, Indonesia. The earthquake spurred a subsequent tsunami, causing huge waves to smash into coastlines across Asia. The effects were devastating. Villages were completely wiped out in Indonesia, Sri Lanka and India, while tourists enjoying the sun on the beaches of Thailand were dragged out to sea. Those who weren’t, instead had to swim for their lives further inshore against the continually rising water. My friend, Charlotte, who was staying in a hotel in Thailand facing the beach, later told me that the sight of that monster wave crashing ashore was one which she could never forget. Another friend, James, told me of the seemingly hundreds of people running screaming up the beach, followed by their futile attemps to stay afloat by holding desperately onto anything that could keep them on this land….and on this planet. I imagine this was also an image which would remain imprinted forever on his mind. That day, among a mix of other emotions, I couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. The sway and vibrations of the earthquake I felt had no physical effect on my home compared to the disastrous results it had caused elsewhere. I mean, what’s a broken vase in comparison to a destroyed home, a broken family or an absolute change to life as you know it? But even so, that sense of luck could not overcome the dread rooted in my stomach. Phuket was a very popular holiday destinations for the expats of Singapore. The entire day I couldn’t suppress the knowledge that I had friends on holiday in Phuket, Thailand – one of the worst hit areas by the tsunami. So again and again I watched the repeated footage on the BBC of the wave rolling, or rather, smashing, into Phuket. The sight of a face, any face, would make my heart dart, even though I saw no-one I knew. But even still I worried at the sight of a woman swimming to a helicopter ladder or a man on 84