I stepped out of my flip-flops, pulled back the canvas door, and stepped inside the dimly lit tent pitched beside the ocean. The oil lamp at the center of the floor cast an amber glow on the faces of the Acehnese men sitting in a circle around it. We gathered to hear a twenty-five year old man play his guitar and sing a song he’d written in memory of his seven family members who were killed by the wave. The scent of ocean water and freshly-lit cigarettes filled the small tent he now calls home. Beside the tent stands a tsunami-ravaged cement structure where his family used to live. The staircase leading to the second level now leads to the roof. Indonesian words spray painted across the wall let the community know the owner of the property is still alive. We sat in the tent for almost an hour trading songs as the subtle drone of ocean waves offset the music.
One month ago, I remember sitting at the kitchen table at home in Rhode Island watching Channel 10 announce the one-year anniversary of the tsunami thinking, It’s only been a year? I guess the more time passes without hearing about something, the further away it becomes. When I was given an assignment to write about relief efforts in Indonesia, I expected to find cities rebuilt and lives approaching a state of normalcy. It only took a twenty-minute drive from the airport to the coast for me to realize life in Indonesia is far from normal. In fact, I would venture to guess that few who have not seen Indonesian lives in the wake of this tragedy will ever understand the magnitude of what happened on Dec. 26, 2004.
In preparing for this coverage, I remember watching a Discovery Channel special on the tsunami. When I saw the footage of ravaged homes and desolate beaches, I imagined those areas transformed today, but as I walked the streets of those coastal towns just a few days ago, I realized very little had changed. Yes, homes have been built and people are beginning to move into permanent housing, but I saw so many still living in tents. I sat and listened as people told me stories of how they lost loved ones, homes, businesses, and livelihoods in the wake of the tsunami. I heard stories of corruption, disillusionment and grief.
At Christmas, a good friend of mine gave me a journal with a quote inscribed on the back. It said, “When you travel, you learn as much about yourself as you do the world.” On several occasions, I’ve found this to be true. After being immersed in the sights, sounds, and smells of the tsunami-desolated areas of Indonesia, I realized countless lives will never be the same, and on a significantly smaller scale, neither will mine.
One month ago, I remember sitting at the kitchen table at home in Rhode Island watching Channel 10 announce the one-year anniversary of the tsunami thinking, It’s only been a year? I guess the more time passes without hearing about something, the further away it becomes. When I was given an assignment to write about relief efforts in Indonesia, I expected to find cities rebuilt and lives approaching a state of normalcy. It only took a twenty-minute drive from the airport to the coast for me to realize life in Indonesia is far from normal. In fact, I would venture to guess that few who have not seen Indonesian lives in the wake of this tragedy will ever understand the magnitude of what happened on Dec. 26, 2004.
In preparing for this coverage, I remember watching a Discovery Channel special on the tsunami. When I saw the footage of ravaged homes and desolate beaches, I imagined those areas transformed today, but as I walked the streets of those coastal towns just a few days ago, I realized very little had changed. Yes, homes have been built and people are beginning to move into permanent housing, but I saw so many still living in tents. I sat and listened as people told me stories of how they lost loved ones, homes, businesses, and livelihoods in the wake of the tsunami. I heard stories of corruption, disillusionment and grief.
At Christmas, a good friend of mine gave me a journal with a quote inscribed on the back. It said, “When you travel, you learn as much about yourself as you do the world.” On several occasions, I’ve found this to be true. After being immersed in the sights, sounds, and smells of the tsunami-desolated areas of Indonesia, I realized countless lives will never be the same, and on a significantly smaller scale, neither will mine.