The Tsunami Story (the first part)

Another Tsunami Anniversary

Here's the first part of my tsunami story. I've included some preamble to set the scene and such.

It's been a while since I wrote or read this (march 2005). I shared it with Naia who encouraged me to write more, but I was lacking energy and will. Writing this was very cathartic and immensely exhausting. Perhaps more will seep out soon...

Enjoy?

blessings,
Son


DEC. 2005

When we first arrived in Sri Lanka we split up into pairs to find the perfect beach to spend a month or more before heading to India. Liz and Sam headed east to Arugam Bay and we headed down south to Mirissa.

Both places were well known for their surf. Arugam Bay was determined to be the most private non-touristy spot as it was off-season and most surfers were in the south. Sam and Liz set up a place for us, mere metres from the sea. A bamboo thatch bungalow with the necessities of home: a fridge, a toilet, indoor and outdoor showers and a hammock with an ocean view. There were three bungalows on the property. This one was closest to the beach. We spent our first night in this one with Sam and Liz. The next night we rented the third bungalow from the beach. Jonas and Erik joined us in that one on Christmas Eve.

I remember lying in the loft staring up at the stars, waiting for Rik to come to bed. There was no mosquito net up there and the skeeters would bite my cheeks in the morning, feasting on my sleepy head. This bungalow was smaller and it was without water or a stove. It was comfortable enough for the four of us, but I don’t know how that family managed to squeeze themselves into the middle bungalow. There were 12 of them and they were literally spilling out the door. It seemed absurd to me, so many people sleeping in such a small space…

Jonas climbed up into that loft when the wave came. He grabbed their bags and ended up saving all of their things. Mind you the electronics were fried and when we were airlifted out they weren’t allowed to bring their bags. Luckily we were the last ones to be airlifted out and since they loaded the dead bodies onto Sam and Liz’s helicopter, we brought their bags with us. Unlike the Swedes, we sprawled out and made the main bungalow our home. Our stuff was all over. It felt nice to be at home there. We spent most of our time in the main bungalow or on the covered porch. I was surprised by how much time I spent in the shade. I usually love basking under the hot sun and then dunking into cool water. It was just to stinking hot. Since Arugam Bay is predominantly Muslim, wearing my bathing suit on the beach was an uneasy option. I hated wearing long sleeves and pants in the blazing heat, but at least I didn't stick out like a disrespectful thumb.

On Christmas morning I woke up feeling pretty awful. It was an unfamiliar feeling, in between nausea and cramps. I felt feverish and just plain ill. I was struggling emotionally too. I was bottling feelings up and growing increasingly frustrated by my inability to be open and honest with Rik. I didn’t want to stay at home and miss out on all the fun. I felt like shit but I wanted to spend Christmas riding motorbikes out to a secluded beach. I think I was pissed that I couldn’t drive. That was the runt in me screaming for equal rights – I wanted to drive, but I really didn’t know how and I felt out of form. I took a swim in the ocean that morning. It was my second time going out into waves by myself. I felt like a little kid, looking over my shoulder to see if Rik was watching me. I wanted him to see that I could handle myself. I also wanted to see that he would be there if anything happened. Rik was nowhere in sight. It took me a long time to get in. It was different from the waves in Mirissa. The beach sloped down in front our bungalow. The waves broke close to the beach. I had to summon a lot of courage to get out past the break. I was afraid that I’d get slammed. I was all alone, I felt weak. I’m not sure what compelled me to run in, maybe it was ego gratification - a strong urge to overcome my fear. Whatever the case, I was compelled by ego.

We were six friends hanging out. Then I was alone in the dark water. The feeling is hard to fully describe. It was such a beautiful day, how could I die? The wave hit me by complete surprise.

On December 26th I woke up in a fog, despite the blazing sun. That morning seemed especially bright. The sun was intense. It illuminated every sand crystal, spreading rays from above and below. I felt ill. I didn’t want to go outside; the heat was too much to take. I traded my shirt for a bikini top.

I stretched out on the long couch and enjoyed a lazy morning with Liz. The guys were gone, returning the motorcycles. I worried about how much of the deposit would be used to repair the damage and replace the key. I was tired.

When they returned we all convened in the front room of the bungalow closest to the beach. We watched a slide show of yesterday’s pictures on Rik’s computer. This was our last day together. We were heading back to Colombo and then onto India. We were calculating how many rupees we owed each other.


I first noticed that the water was breaking much higher than I had ever seen it. The cactus fence, a few metres from our porch was getting blasted by the ocean. The foam rushed through it and onto our porch. We moved towards the front window and door to see what was happening. The ocean was coming. I stared at the front door, my only escape. I wanted to get out but I was no match for the force of the water coming in. Liz grabbed me by the arm, “Let’s go into the bedroom”. I was a frustrated, trapped animal. There was no escape.

I lost sight of Rik. He stayed in the front room with Erik. As the water flooded into the bungalow, Rik pulled plugs. Sam and I both had some good shocks during the week while we were cooking on the electric stove. Sam went to throw the breaker but it had already tripped. Erik climbed onto the sofa, and shouted to Rik, standing on the kitchen counter, “Rik! What do you want me to do with your camera?”

We didn’t expect the water to keep rushing in. It didn’t make any sense. We tried to maintain control, by protecting our things, unplugging appliances – but as the water lifted the bungalow and everything in it, it became clear that we has lost control.

Crackling, snapping wood
Climbed the wall, the house came down, pushed under water, trapped in darkness…

I remember when I was alone in the dark. I felt all alone, but not in a lonely place. I knew that Rik was nearby and I thought how ironically sad it was that the wave hit us in the middle of tallying our expenditures and evening the score.

My mom told me that if I had died, her emotional life would have ended. What does this mean? I guess it means that a part of her would be gone. I felt the sadness of her loss. I didn’t try to patch it up and paint it into a pretty, clean and happy picture. I felt it that day. I felt it when the water filled in beneath, around and above me.

Thoughts of surprise, sadness, guilt for the pain I would cause my mom, how fragile life is, stuck, how easy death would come when I blacked out…


I clawed my way out of the roof of that house. I can’t even remember doing it. I remember being in the dark and then moving towards the light. Everything seems very clear, except for the part where I got out of the house. I was breathing, I was alive. My first thought was to free myself from the mangled bamboo net. I tore myself out of the roof and started to swim. I could see and feel the water bubbling and rolling all around. I reminded myself to stay calm and to prepare for big waves. I wasn’t scared; we had played in waves more violent than what I was floating in now. I started to swim towards a tree that Jonas was already climbing up.

I remember the sorrow that filled the air after the sea left. I didn’t think the mourning would ever end. I heard mothers torn apart by grief wail into the night. It doesn’t matter what language you speak, grief is universal. The language of our heart speaks from truth, unmasked by accents.