I ran across this article in the New York Times about a fishing village in the Southern Thailand. It makes one realizes how difficult and heartbreaking it is for the survivors to deal with the lost:
Nam Khem is now a haunted place, echoing with the last moments of terror of the people who died here.
Some of the dead appear in the dreams of those they left behind, or even in their waking moments, and the villagers say some of the survivors have collapsed with grief.
Pharpa Chanmuang [Lost six of 11 family members. She outraced the wave on her motorbike, carrying a child. Her mother, who was also on a motorbike nearby, was pulled under the wave to her death]: "My father just sits and stares. One day he asked me for a suitcase. I said, 'We don't have a suitcase.' He said: 'Go buy one. I want to get away from here.' I don't think he is really leaving, though."
Prayun Chongkraichak:
Most of the men fish, and only half a dozen of some 300 boats survived the waves. "Our real problem is we have no way to make a living," said Prayun Chongkraichak, 38, who runs a small collective of surviving fishermen.
The men busy themselves weaving hundreds of new fish traps, but even if they had boats, they fear that any catch would be contaminated with waste. "We have lost our trust in the sea," Mr. Prayun said.
Am Changkraichok [a 68 years old fisherman]:
"It was fate. If you were meant to die, you died. People visiting here to see friends, or foreigners here on holiday, all were here because their time had come to die. I've lived here all my life but I was spared. How do you explain that? My time had not yet come. When I think like this, it makes me feel better. Nature decides. Things come and things disappear. If you just don't let go, it can make you crazy."
Mr. Changkraichok's sentiment reflected those of mine during the time immediately following the disaster. Everytime when someone asked me how I felt about the disaster, all I could tell them was that it was just a part of the natural cycle of life. Like Mr. Changkraichok mentioned, nature decides, and no one could have predicted how the events could have unfold. It may seems like a very easy way to brush aside such an enormouse event, but one must also understand that it is a very Buddhist way. Everything is part of life, and one has no way of controlling it. The simplest way is to let go.
Saengarun Pholasen:
Every evening now, on an empty beach at the southern edge of Nam Khem, Saengarun Pholasen, 50, a metal worker, brings three cans of beer and sits on the patio of a ruined restaurant. He takes two cans for himself and pours the third into a plastic cup for his best friend, Somsak, one of the victims of the wave.
"Four or five nights ago, I saw him standing by my bed and he said no one was caring for his soul," Mr. Saengarun said. "It wasn't a dream. He was standing there. So I come out here now where we used to drink together after work."
Mr. Saengarun calls out to his friend, "Somsak! Somsak!" to let him know his beer is waiting for him. Then he sits alone watching a huge red sun sink into the sea, one beer in his hand, the plastic cup untouched, as cicadas buzz in the pine trees, the daylight fades away and the entire world around him grows dark.
The U.S. media may no longer cover the disaster in urgency the way they did immediately following the event does not mean that things simply stop happening in those parts of the world affected. My parents read the local Thai newspapers frequently, and there are always items regarding the Tsunami weekly. Most of these news source are in a foreign language, so many may not be able to read the articles. Many good thai newspapers are available online such as The Bangkok Post or The Nation.