A Tsunami and the Fragility of Life

December 26, 2004 was a beautiful morning, like all of the others that my partner Nancy and I had grown accustom to during our three-week adventure in Thailand. But this day in Phuket would prove to be very different.

Nancy and I had just finished a leisurely breakfast and were busy sending our families email messages from the hotel’s Internet office when the day took a turn for the worse. Being so far from home, we wanted to let our families know that they didn’t need to worry about us. Just as we were finishing up our messages, the two Thai women who greeted us every day with radiant smiles were now waving their arms wildly motioning to us to leave the small building. Not realizing that danger was so near, we finished our messages and were gathering our belongings when the sounds of screams and chaos began to fill our ears. As we exited the building, our first thought was that there must have been a terrorist attack.

We still didn’t know what was happening, but it was becoming apparent that something was seriously wrong. Everyone around us was running up the hill towards the bluff where the bungalows of our hotel were located. We started running with everyone still not knowing what we were running from. As we climbed the hill, the vegetation to our right opened up to a perfect view of Karon Beach. It was then that we saw a very different view than what we were used to seeing. The white sandy beach with two rows of beach chairs and umbrellas for as far as the eye could see was no longer visible. It took a few moments for our brains to register why we couldn’t see those chairs. The water had engulfed the beach and was now partially submerging the palm trees that had so elegantly framed it. The water was full of debris: chairs, wood, plastic, umbrellas, parts of buildings, and a mini van. As I stared at the water in disbelief, I heard Nancy whisper “tsunami.” That’s when I remembered feeling the earthquake’s vibrations hours earlier. But they were so slight. How could they have caused this kind of destruction?

All around us were other tourists: Germans, Austrians, Norwegians, Indonesians, French, and Chinese. The common language that brought us all together was English. Frantically, people were trying to communicate with one another, all of us looking to the Thai hotel staff for answers to our questions. The communication was difficult but we managed to determine that this was something that none of them had ever experienced before. No one ever saw the water behave this way. Stunned, everyone stared at the water and watched it swirl and move in ways that led you to believe that it was possessed with evil. The water would quickly pull away from the shore and then immediately come back in again. But the water was not moving in sequence. All along the shore the water was rolling and shifting independently from other parts of the ocean. It was if the water forgot how it was supposed to move.
Nearby, a French family was tightly hugging their daughters. The parents were both in their late twenties but were shaking like little children who had awoken from a bad dream. They were covered from head to toe in sand. Later we learned that they had narrowly escaped the surging waters. They were some of the lucky ones, their mother explained, for the daughters felt very sure that many of the people who were sharing the beach with them that morning were unable to escape those waves.

While we were all trying to figure out what was happening, the Thai staff returned to share some information that they had learned. There had indeed been an earthquake and more waves were on their way. It was now around 10:30 AM and by 1:00 PM a 30-meter wave was going to be arriving on the beaches of Phuket. In utter disbelief, a French tourist tried to clarify whether they meant a 3-meter wave or a 30-meter wave. The Thai woman said very clearly 3 - 0 meters. Quickly, Nancy and I tried to convert that number into feet. A 100-foot wave? We asked ourselves if that was possible. How could the second set of waves be larger than the first set of waves? No one knew the answer and no one could dispute the information that we had just been given.
The next series of questions were about the height of the bluff where we had all taken refuge. The hotel staff assured us that we would be ok since the building that was 25 feet from where we were standing was located 30 meters above the beach. Most of us were not reassured. Where else could we go? We knew that in order to get much higher and farther away from the beach meant going down lower first. This was not an option. It was too dangerous and none of us wanted to be caught at the lower elevations if the waves returned. There was no place for us to go.

For the rest of the day we all sat on the hillside staring at the ocean. The Thai hotel staff never stopped trying to make sure that we were comfortable. Even through all of the chaos and confusion, they were there to give us water and assure us that everything would be ok, but we could see the fear in everyone’s eyes. Nancy and I tried very hard to keep our emotions at bay, but there was a part of us that thought we needed to say good-bye to one another, and just kept hoping that we would survive.

1:00 PM came and went and nothing happened. The blue skies and soft breezes did not provide the comfort that they had in days past. We kept checking our watches and watching the ocean as we continued to wait into the early evening hours. Slowly, people were drifting in from other hotels that had sustained severe damage. People with wounds and bandages, suitcases ripped to shreds, and some people with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Luckily, our hotel had a few empty rooms and was able to accommodate some of the displaced tourists. Everyone wanted to help but what could we do?

In spite of the highly emotional state that everyone seemed to be experiencing, the hotel staff continued to operate in its typical calm manner. The hotel guests also tried to make the best of the situation, although it was apparent that many people were in shock. Nancy and I weren’t sure what we should do as we still had two more days in Phuket. After some discussion, we decided that it was more important for others to leave ahead of us.
It was later that day that the hotel was able to turn on CNN International in the lobby. A small crowd formed around the TV and we watched in horror as they reported that there had been a massive earthquake near Sumatra, which created waves that impacted most of the coasts in the Indian Ocean. We couldn’t believe the enormity of the situation and the rapidly growing number of people killed and injured.

The next morning, after a long and restless night, we ventured down to street level shops and the beach to see for ourselves what damage the waves had caused. We were shocked by what we saw. Large and heavy objects had been tossed around like they weighed nothing. Parts of the sidewalk had been ripped from its location. Sand, mud, and water were everywhere. Shops and hotels were gutted and destroyed. It looked like a bomb had exploded. All around us were other people walking around with a glazed look in their eyes as they experienced the same sights. After a few hours, we decided that we had seen enough. We returned to our hotel for our last evening before our departure the next day.

Nancy and I expected our first trip to Southeast Asia to have a profound effect on us. We had no idea that the effects would be of this nature. It reminded us how fragile life is and how easily it can be taken away in an instant. It’s been very hard to deal with the emotional aftermath knowing that we were so close to death, knowing that we were doing the same thing as other visitors not so lucky. We had all gone to Thailand to explore a new culture, to grow spiritually and to enjoy its beauty. We now feel such a connection to that part of the world, a connection that goes to the depths of our souls.

Anna Roche is a coordinator for LGB RPCVs Mentor Program. She can be reached at lgbrpcv@lgbrpcv.org.