Aceh 2004 Tsunami - Diary of volunteer Greg Bradley

Diary of a Volunteer
Aceh - the Tsunami aftermath

Greg Bradley in Banda Aceh

Below a transcript of the Diary by Greg Bradley, a young American living in Australia.
Greg works for World Vision in Australia, but on this trip to Banda Aceh, Indonesia he joined with three small Non-Government Organisations : Partners, Australian Relief and Mercy Services (ARMS), and the Oaktree Foundation.

Greg has recently completed a Bachelors degree where he placed a special emphasis on learning Indonesian language and culture which along with previous first aid training and experience in Indonesia, he was able to put to very good use.
Michael Furstner

January 1 2 3 4 6 8 10 11 14

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GB 1 - January 1, 2005

I have just boarded my flight from Australia to Medan' Indonesia via Singapore. The busy days of preparation have left little time for thought as I sit waiting for take-off, I am overwhelmed as I write.

I am off into the unknown. Expecting the worst but hoping for an occasional breath of fresh air and a safe dry place to lay my head. This incomprehensible disaster compels me to step out of my comfort bubble and attempt to make a difference in a situation that will likely seem never-ending and hopeless.

God I need a fresh breath of you. Alone I am as helpless as the hurting who have narrowly escaped death, they only hopelessly hold out for the next dismal, stagnant, putrid breath. I need something real to give them- hope and physical healing. My heart breaks for these lost and dying people- I need strength to be effective and useful. I feel so insufficient.

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GB 2 - January 2, 2005

In action in Medan. We have a busy day, running for supplies, putting my Indonesian to good use. We are given over 6 tons of food, clothes, and water to transport to Banda Aceh. I negotiate to hire a massive truck and driver for one week- cost 6 million rupiah (about $750 US). There are so many nice and interesting people here in Medan. As soon as they hear we are on our way to help the people of Aceh, they are all so eager to help.

Our team is funny, we are like a mix-n-match, rag tag, completely random group: various skills, strengths and weaknesses.
When I flew from Singapore to Indonesia, I noticed so many serious well formed teams: with fancy new uniforms, military buzz cut hair styles, and state of the art, brand new equipment that had clearly never been used.

With us on the other hand it seems at times like we are so unorganised as we struggle to obtain supplies: shovels, tents, medicines, cooking stoves, and tons of food and water.
Despite the occasional feelings of unpreparedness, I know our team has a lot of heart and most importantly an abundance of love and compassion for the people we long to help.

Tomorrow we attempt to make our way to Banda Aceh. No one knows what to expect. We hope for a safe drive as there are reports of rebel military groups on the road, stopping aid vehicles.

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GB 3 - January 3, 2005

We are stuck in Medan for one more day, need to try and gather a few more crucial supplies. It is so hard to believe that we are in a city so close to such devastation' yet all around us life seems to go on as normal.

Impressions of Medan:

A rustling, busy place
that cannot hold its breath
or let a moments silence
grasp its space.
So many smiling faces
in dingy dismal places.
They greet at every turn . . . .

Not the fabled grizzly fear
that others paint of here.
But tomorrow will tell another tale
as the Journey moves on again.
For now I will remember
the warm smiles and friends
that have already become so dear . . . .

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GB 4 - January 4, 2005

Our convoy consists of 2 large trucks carrying supplies and several 4-wheel drive type passenger vehicles. There are 17 Westerners (Americans and Australians: doctors, nurses, water specialists, construction workers, paramedics, translators) and about 10 Indonesians (translators and drivers). We have been advised to drive through the night to avoid any problems with Acehnese rebels.

Sleeping doesn't come easy. There are 6 of us in our vehicle. We soberly speak of what we will soon encounter. We still can't comprehend that at roads end over 100,000 people have lost their lives. As conversation sleepily ceases we struggle for rest, leaning upright against the side of the vehicle. Every bump and pothole works against this effort, not to mention the weight of the unknown that stirs restlessly in my mind. As I drift in and out of sleep I fear that I will soon wake to the smell of death.

Restlessness turns to frustration as I remind myself that I will need all the strength I can muster for the days ahead. I pray myself to sleep and wake as our vehicle comes to a stop on a hillside 1 hour from Banda Aceh.

The sun is rising over beautiful lush landscape, flowing into towering volcanic peaks. Still no sign of destruction. The final descent reveals still more green valleys, tropical forests, and vibrant flowing rivers.

We stop to regroup the caravan. Collapsed buildings are all around. 100 meters up the road, two bodies lay covered on the side of the road. Large dump trucks pass loaded with corpses, masked workers stand atop the dead staring vaguely and emotionless into space. We are greeted by the dreaded scent of death. We are in Banda Aceh.

The destruction is so vastly overwhelming, where do we begin? As we stop briefly to find our bearings a group of refugees start to climb the sides of one of the trucks. They have lost everything and are desperate for anything they can get their hands on. After a quick meeting at the United Nations base, we are given very simple instructions to drive until we find people in need and then stop and offer assistance.

After driving through more scenes of decimation we stop at a large Mosque in an area called Darulsalam. Here over 400 refugees desperately need help.

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GB 5 - January 6, 2005

I am alone inside my tent. The rain is pouring outside and I hope my tent will keep me dry. I grip my small flashlight in my teeth as I write.

Our camp is several hundred meters from where the devastation of the tsunami ends. Here it seems safe and peaceful, but only a short distance away lie hundreds of dead bodies and vast destruction.

child We are camped on the front lawn of the Mosque. Beside us hundreds of refugees make their home. Tonight we all sleep in tents. For a brief moment I can identify with them. I sleep in this leaky cheap tent as the rain pours outside. But I know that I have a home to return to and a family to embrace me. These refugees have all lost someone close as well as everything they once owned.

Earlier today a man comes to me holding a cute little girl, she is two years old. The man, her uncle, tells me that the child's brothers and sisters are all dead. The little girl smiles at me cautiously. Her uneasiness makes it clear that she is still confused about what has happened.

This is just one of endless tragic stories. It seems that everyone wants to share their loss and their experience.
In the past two days we have done many practical things: Medical clinics, Food distribution' installed two water filtration systems.
Today I make showers and change rooms out of tarp and pvc for the women as there are no private places for them to wash or dress.
It seems that we cannot do much in the light of what has occurred, but everything we do is so appreciated. I constantly remind myself that all my life's sorrows are only a momentary thought compared to the tragedy that has surrounded this place and stolen so many loved ones.

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GB 5 - January 8, 2005

The days are so long, 10 to 12 hours, but it always feels as if we cannot do enough. My limited Indonesian is growing everyday, and is more useful than I ever imagined. I am constantly overwhelmed with so many that want to tell me of their loss. The least I can do is listen' I have nothing to complain about.

In every thoughtless moment my mind instantly narrows to the plight of these around me.
Displaced, these people have nothing left. Their homes have been swept from them leaving many of their loved ones lost in the rubble. The vastness of the destruction is seemingly incomprehensible. From coast to coast it appears as if an atomic bomb has decimated everything. The power of water meeting land is literally unbelievable.

I am drawn into the hearts of these people, searching for a glimpse of hope from my soul to offer these broken hearts. Their resilience gives me hope, their smiles warm me. They are gracious in the face of adversity and constantly welcoming. Most in this camp have fled with only the clothes on their back.

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GB 7 - January 10, 2005

This morning I awake sometime after 3am to the sounds of a small child crying. Again and again he calls out, "Ayah, Ayah, Daddy, Daddy!".
He sobbs inconsolably for over an hour until the Imam at the Mosque begins calling the faithful Muslims to prayer.

The next morning I speak with his young mother. His name is Muharif, a 2 and a half year old boy. She says that Muharif's father left early on the morning of the Tsunami. He promised his son that he would be home soon and that he would bring apples for Muharif. But Muharif's father never came home, he was killed by the Tsunami.

Now Muharif cries out for his Ayah. He continuously asks his mother, "When is daddy coming home ?".
Every time a plane flies overhead he asks, "Is that daddy coming home ?".

He doesn't understand and his mother doesn't know what to tell her son. This hopeless sense of loss permeates the entire area of Banda Aceh.

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GB 8 - January 11-13, 2005

Many days have gone by. Most of the team have returned home, about five of us continue to offer help. My mind is fuzzy, trying to comprehend all that I have seen and to respond with my heart and my emotions.
Focus: so much lies ahead, so many decisions to be made. I can't wait to see my wife Naomi and share my experiences- to see her face and hold her.
The days have flown by, we have done so many different things. Visited many posko pengungsi (refugee camps). The smaller size of our team has seemed to bring a lot more effectiveness and mobility to visit more remote areas of need.
We simply drive along the coast road and follow signs written on the road with white chalk like stone saying, "need food water and medicine". We deliver hundreds of kilos of food to remote refugee camps- rice, eggs, fish, and complete three water purifications projects.
We also continue to treat many people for fungal skin infections, scabies, respiratory infections, and wounds caused by the tsunami. Surprisingly we are able to replenish many supplies from local markets and deliver thousands of dollars of materials such as lanterns, tarps, floor mats, cooking pots, gas stoves, bowls, oil, cooking utensils, rope, nails, hammers, saws, etc. We visit 8 posko pengungsi in total. We hear so many tragic stories.
water

At one of our medical clinics we meet a man with horrendous leg wounds and severe infection. We give him a local anaesthetic injection and cut the infection away from his leg.

He and his wife tell us how they had been trapped in debris from the tsunami for 2 days. They were surrounded by dead bodies. As they cried out for help, stunned onlookers were in such a state of shock that they failed to notice or respond to their weak cries for help.

We spend a lot of time with this couple and even visit them at their relatives house where they are now staying. We drink coffee and coconut milk and shared rambutan fruit together. The man's wife just lies in her bed sobbing.

She and her husband have survived, but all three of their sons, their only children were lost. Leaving them alone and childless in a society where livelihood in old age is assured through ones offspring.

Their grief is unbearable. As we say goodbye, I cry with them, the man huggs me tightly for several moments.

The fact that we are there and that we care means something to these people. Even though they have lost so much, many people, especially the children still manage to smile and thank us for coming. They are receptive towards our team and their warmth in the face of adversity touches me deeply.

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GB 9 - January 14, 2005

We drive down the west coast of Aceh as far as the fallen bridge, where the road ends. The area is decimated. I see a headland and beach that look identical to a scene in a dream I had the night that I had decided to come to Aceh.

The beach is scattered with debris. As we climb off our truck we are greeted by a hand that is hanging out of a black plastic bag. It is so far decomposed that the finger bones are showing. The first thought I have is that it does not stink anymore, it is past that state.

I walk with Randy and our local friends Adi and Febi towards the beach. We step over fallen walls and walk over concrete foundations where houses once stood. About 200 meters from the sea there lies a giant tuna fish, it must weigh over 50 pounds. Even this fish, one of the strongest swimmers in the ocean could not outswim the tsunami.

The beach is cluttered with various personal items : a broken tennis racket, a sandal in size medium, a small red baby-sized shoe- I can't help but think about the fate of the owners of these possessions. As we walk on the sand of the beach we are overwhelmed by the smell of a stinking bloated cow. Piles of car-sized coral stand exposed on the beach. It is a scene of complete chaos.

I remember my dream. The shoreline looks familiar as it bends into a gentle bay and then rises into a steep rocky headland capped with lush green rain forest. This was once an idyllic, beautiful place, with white sand and gentle rolling waves. My dream is one of hope, of renewal, of new life, of a future, of recovery. A memory of what this place once was and what it can become again.

Afterthought

I by no means want to portray myself as a hero or anything extraordinary. After watching the images of the tsunami on TV, I just felt like I should go and help in any way I could, and that is what I did.
Perhaps my experience can inspire others to step out into the unknown and follow their heart to help others.

Although our team helped many hundreds of people, it always felt so insignificant in light of the vastness of the disaster, but it was so meaningful how we were able to value and love people on an individual basis, listening to their stories of hardship and helping however we could.

Our team shared so many life-changing experiences and it was amazing to stand back and admire the amazing talents of the ones working beside me. Like David lovingly caring for so many injured. I am still in awe of the resourcefulness and big hearts of Doug, Tom, and Randy, they are great guys.

But most of all it is important to realise that the real heroes in this tragedy are those that continue to live on and cope with their many losses. Let our hearts continue to remember the suffering and grief of those in Indonesia, and pray for God's grace for them.

My hope is that through sharing this journal, it will be a small testimony to the beautiful people of Aceh and will help others relate to their situation. These thoughts are from my perspective, the way I saw it at the time. They do not necessarily follow those of the organisations or individuals I worked with in Banda Aceh.

Greg Bradley
Volunteer
Coolum, Queensland, Australia

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