“This
is my house. Where will I live now? I have nothing left,”
said the man, shaking his head as he picked his way through
the shell of his ruined two-storey home in the devastated town
of Meulaboh.
The force of the tsunami punched massive holes in the walls,
revealing strewn contents: A bed slammed against a wall, an
upturned chest of draws. Through a broken window, a curtain
flaps gently in the breeze.
Every room of this large white building contains a jumbled mess
of household goods. It is like a giant doll’s house tossed
and shaken by an angry mother. Mother Nature.
The grounds of the house are littered with debris. A massive
slab of fallen masonry, a support for the upper floor, lays
broken on its side. Twisted metal, shattered trees, pots and
pans, a kettle and a fan scattered here and there.
There is little to salvage. But for now the man, whose family
were also spared be the tsunami, spends his days sifting through
the rubble.
At least his house still stands. Nearly every home and building
in this area was destroyed. Swept away by huge waves up to ten
metres high that devastated the remote town of Meulaboh, on
the west coast of the Indonesian province of Aceh.
The number of dead in this battered town could be as high as
40,000.
Across the road, a red flag marks the final resting place of
a tsunami victim: a woman, her face hidden by a dirty cloth.
Who was she? Did she have children and a husband? Did they survive,
or were they too claimed by the massive surge of seawater.
Amongst the devastation, there are many bizarre sights. An ornate
table and chair set. In the centre of town, a two-tonne fishing
boat rests on its side, a love heart painted on its deck. Perhaps
a small message of hope for the survivors of this shattered
town.
Along either side of the street lie black bundles of plastic
containing the mortal remains of Meulaboh’s loved ones.
The heart of this town has been ripped out.
Trundling through the mud comes an ambulance. Six volunteers
from the Indonesian Red Cross are clearing bodies. Covered in
grime, wearing long green boots, rubber gloves and masks, the
young volunteers prepare to gather a decaying body.
The smell of death hangs on the air. Kneeling round the corpse,
they gently lift the body from the ground and place it in a
bag.
The ambulance doors swing open, and the vehicle reveals its
macabre cargo: piles of dead bodies, stacked in bags. Their
destination is the crematorium. Hundreds of bodies have been
disposed of this way. It is terrible work.
“We have too many bodies,” says a Red Cross volunteer,
who gives a nervous laugh. “But I am working for humanity.
I am sad but it is my obligation.” The young man expects
to be working on body recovery for at least two to three months.
Red Cross volunteers have worked long hours for days now. They
are tired. But they are part of this community. Many of them
will have lost family members.
Yet despite their personal loss they are performing the jobs
they are trained to do. Collecting dead bodies, providing first
aid and distributing relief from local disaster preparedness
stocks.
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“Where
will I live now? I have nothing left,” says this
resident of Meulaboh (p12434)
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Mother
Nature has decimated this town in Aceh province (p-IDN0017)
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Indonesian
Red Cross volunteers perform the grim task of collecting
corpses. The job is far from done in Meulaboh (p-IDN0019)
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The
corpses are loaded into a Red Cross ambulance to be taken
to the crematorium (p12437)
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News
