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Monday, Oct 13, 2008
After the waves hit, I dared myself to do something. Now I'm in Sri Lanka, where nothing will ever be the same again.
Jan 11, 2005 | Jan. 6, 2005.There is no predicting, at this point, what I will find when I arrive. This whole trip came together so quickly that I'm still in a state of shock, sitting on a Singapore Airlines Mega-Top with a pink tablecloth under my iBook, iced cranberry juice on my tray table, and a selection of 60 on-demand films available to all passengers. The absurdity of this situation only adds to my confusion, and apprehension of what is to come. Because the only sure thing is that, in another half-day (after a long layover in Singapore), I'll leave this sterile zone of comfort and enter the heart of darkness: a once-familiar landscape of temples and palm trees, now ravaged by the Dec. 26 tsunami.
It's a combination nightmare and dream come true. More than anything, it's an exercise in being careful what you wish for. Days after the earthquake in Sumatra, the most recklessly generous part of my soul offered a dare to the rest of me: Would I continue to watch reports of the flooding and devastation on television, or get on a plane to Bangkok? I had no idea what I'd do once I arrived, but it seemed I could be of use somewhere. On the spur of the moment I called Third Eye Travel, which specializes in discount trips to Asia. Yes, I could be on a plane to Thailand on the 31st of December.
Then the doubts arrived. Visions of volunteer overkill in Thailand -- and breathless anxiety -- joined forces with the fact that I had long-anticipated plans for New Year's Eve. I was caught between the scared and the mundane. And so, instead of booking my ticket, I got on the phone and made calls to the two relief organizations where I had personal contacts: UNICEF in New York, and Mercy Corps in Washington. I needed to find out if my presence in Indonesia, India or Sri Lanka would be more of an asset than a liability.
On Jan. 3, the telephone rang in my Oakland, Calif., flat. Matthew DeGalan, a Mercy Corps director at its head office in Portland, Ore., was on the line. A communications officer in Sri Lanka had been called home for an emergency. I was invited to take over her post, and asked to get on a plane for Colombo as soon as was humanly possible. My job would commence immediately on arrival, and would continue as long as I chose to stay, with a minimum commitment of two to three weeks.
Sri Lanka is a small country, off the southeastern tip of India. The population is 19.5 million. Thirty thousand of these people were killed by the tsunami. Though Indonesia suffered three times as many casualities, its population is seven times greater than Sri Lanka's -- so the small island nation, proportionally, was the land most severely punished. And the damage was widespread; today's Herald Tribune reports that 70 percent of Sri Lanka's 830-mile coastline was ravaged by the waves.
My mandate, Matthew said, would be broad. I'd be expected to write stories, shoot digital video and photographs, and serve as a liaison with the international press. In addition, I'd be filing my own dispatches -- for Ethical Traveler, ThingsAsian and Salon.com. Accompanying me would be my lifelong friend Dwayne Newton, a San Francisco firefighter, EMT and professional photojournalist, who would join me after I got there.
My flight was scheduled to board just before midnight the next day. The next 34 hours were spent in a fury of preparation. There were travel vaccines to renew and a dozen bills to pay in advance. I was told to pick up a video camera, an internationally compatible cellphone and all the gear necessary to serve as the eyes and ears of Mercy Corps during its relief efforts in Sri Lanka.
Our arrival in Singapore is imminent. There are nothing but unknowns ahead. I pray that I can find eloquence in the midst of so much chaos and suffering, and bring you a few stories you might not hear elsewhere. Almost all my work will be connected with Mercy Corps activities. Mercy Corps, new to Sri Lanka, is joining with local NGOs and grass-roots agencies to support relief efforts in a variety of hard-hit locations.
And sitting here on this 747, with the clouds above Singapore growing beneath me, I'm granted a bit of self-understanding. The point of travel and writing, for me, has always been to visit places where I can be fascinated -- and useful -- at the same time.
Let's hope the former never outweighs the latter.
Jan. 8, 2005. My driver is an elderly man named Chandra, provided by my hosts at Mercy Corps. We leave Colombo at 11 a.m. The traffic is terrible, and we crawl through a purgatory of packed buses and belching two-stroke tempos. MacDonald's, Pizza Hut and endless billboards for cellphone service line Galle Road, with the ocean appearing and disappearing on our right. There isn't a hint of damage; nothing to indicate that this country is in the midst of one of humanity's worst natural disasters.
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