Sand Between the Toes

Sand Between the Toes – 18 February 2005

This piece was written shortly after arriving to do tsunami relief work in Thailand, intending to stay for a week as part of several month trip around Asia. This began what ultimately became an almost two-year commitment to this stretch of Southern Thailand coastline.

I am quite aware that in any other time, in any other place – wait – in this place even, such a phrase as “sand between the toes” would describe paradise, relaxation, bikinis and vacation. And it meant just that for me today as I walked with a new friend on a deserted beach, just a short walk down through the thick jungle of the Khao Lak-Lamru National Park, on the Southwestern coast of Thailand. But what comes slamming at you from just around the corner in experiences your brain wants to see as normal, is that this beautiful tropical beach was hell on earth just six weeks ago. That the bikini you think of can be any one of many washed up on the beach and now in a pile of rubbish or one seen on a photo at the local police box down the road in a display of the horribly disfigured bodies still not identified.

I arrived two days ago at the Tsunami Volunteer Center, a secular Thai-led organization which has set up shop in a nature resort in the hills above where the most devastation was experienced in all of Thailand at the end of December 2004. I am surrounded by the thick muggy heat of the jungle, dogs and monkeys also displaced by the tsunami and annoying the cooks, and the unending generosity of the local people and of people from everywhere speaking many different languages. I am witnessing the growing pains of a brand new organization trying to cover all the needs of the region, coordinate all of us who come and go on our own schedules wanting to be “helpful”, as well as establish the systems to make this all work in the long term.

What is crazy about coming in the aftermath of something so huge as this disaster, is that you see the thinned out forest, the rubble of what remains of fishing villages along the road, the police boat* strangely pinned in the sand ACROSS the road and 2 km in from the water, and you don’t know it as any different than it is now. That thousands of people died here. But there are stories that make it clear it WAS different. And the stories come in every conversation. They appear when talking over a beer with other volunteers such as a German woman, a Welsh woman, and an Australian man: what they heard from villagers they worked with that day, how they felt as witness to the images on TV back home and what motivated them to be here, what they experienced while on vacation on a nearby island on 26 December and heading for the hills when the wave appeared. They come at a construction site where you are helping to build 50 houses for the village that was destroyed, while talking to the villagers with namebadges stating “Tsunami Victim” and who are working alongside you in rebuilding their homes: how many children and grandchildren they lost and what it is like to live in the temporary encampments on the hill that marks the place to which they fled when the wave hit. They come from the man who gives you a lift in his truck this afternoon from the construction site to the Volunteer Center: how his life has been completely turned upside down since the resort at which he worked as a cook is no longer there and he has to take whatever work he can to survive in addition to trying to actively rebuild communities himself. And they come in the frustration of trying to fit this all together somehow, logically?, at least maneuverable, so basic things like accepting donations, finding missing people through the forensic database, and assessing community needs have some shape in order to be able to do good.

It’s been a couple of very long, and satisfying, days. Working with my hands all day in this climate and where outside is almost everywhere has ensured full nights of sleep. What have I been doing? Working at a site put together by a Christian organization based in northern Thailand who we partner with on this particular project in the village of Bang Sak✝. Cutting and twisting wire to create steel rebar columns which will constitute the insides of cement pillars for the aforementioned 50 houses. Discussing donation acceptance capabilities and how to set up a workable intake system for domestic and international gifts, many of which are brought in personally by tourists in unbelievably large amounts daily. Sitting in on steering committee meetings to determine the structure of the relief efforts. Listening to the projects various others are working on: clearing Koh Kor Khao (an island 30 km north of here) of debris including refurbishing the local wat, creating structures in the village of Nam Khem or on Cape Pakarang where fisherman can begin to rebuild or repair their fleets of boats – most were destroyed – even during the rainy season, reclaiming wood that is donated to us in coffin sets (but never used) to make colorful shelves and benches for schools. Speaking a lot of German with a new friend who has spent the last two years living in Bangkok and working for a nongovernmental organization aiding women in the huge industry of trafficking in this region of Asia. Reuniting with a friend from home who has been here for a few trying weeks already. And of course, walking to the beach. Needless to say, it’s been full.

And it all began only a couple days ago: starting off at 5 am on Bangkok’s Khao San Road waiting for airport transport I had no way of knowing would indeed show up at this random spot, a flight to Phuket, and a bus ride to Khao Lak. At the bus terminal in Phuket I tried to explain to the driver this unknown place I needed to travel to: the Tsunami Volunteer Center. Finally, a dynamic young man from Bangkok who works with youth development and empowerment came to my rescue. Not only did he help get me where I needed to go but impressed me for the next two hours with his ambition and understanding of the need for capacity building within the NGOs he works with. A unique meeting of minds in a very unlikely place – an air conditioned bus hurtling along the main highway in southwestern Thailand.

The Tsunami Volunteer Center will be here for at least the next year. Many people – like the Swiss IT guy who is installing and creating the most up to date computer systems on donated hardware and with a donated satellite internet connection – have decided they too will be here the duration of the year. There are plans for an event in April to commemorate 100 days since the disaster, a date which marks the point that the spirits of those who’ve died move on, and for which many volunteers have promised to come back. Volunteers make numerous runs to the border with Burma in order to extend visas so they can continue to manage the projects they have started in the various communities. There has been much anxiety over a recent report in the Bangkok Post that the Thai government will require relief workers to apply for work visas starting in March, which could be a deterrent for many and perhaps an official expression of the Thai sentiment that Thais can take care of Thailand on their own. My plan is to only be here just another week, and see how helpful I can be within that short amount of time.

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* The police boat was in the water on 26 December to guard the king’s grandson who was jet skiing off the coast. He didn’t survive.

✝ My experience of Christian organizations operating in Thailand demonstrated how well they can mobilize resources quickly and significantly – both funds and people – to respond to natural disasters and other conflicts. The structure already present in thousands of congregations in thousands of towns around the world offers a strong base from which to offer of the wealth they possess. It was troubling, however, to witness the conditionality of the aid given (i.e. the project of building houses in the village of Bang Sak included building a church) and often connected to strong missionary activity in established Buddhist or Muslim areas.