Slowly
the full moon rises over southern Thailand, a powerful reminder
that a month has passed since this stretch of coastline was
hit by the tsunami. As the day comes to an end, the families
in the temporary shelter of Ao Bo Tho are getting ready for
the night.
All the day-to-day chores are completed and mattresses are laid
out on the floors of the 50 steel-sheeted houses that have been
built by the Thai Red Cross Society and a host of organizations.
However, under a naked light bulb deft fingers are painting
multi-coloured batik patterns on handkerchiefs.
“We have just learnt how to do it. You see, even if we
want to go back to our village, we need to have an income,”
explains Panwara Kunsorn, one of the painters, who holds up
one of the bright squares of cloth. “These are to be sold
to the tourists.”
Here, plans for the future live side by side with grief and
anxiety.
In the house of Udom and Jongrak, home is not what it was. Only
one of their two sons will be joining them tonight. The youngest
has been taken to another province, not affected by the tsunami.
“I don't want him to see the scenes of devastation every
day,” says Udom. “We must do what we can to make
him to forget. The boy is still scared.”
Before going to bed, Udom and Jongrak sit for a while on the
top of the stairs, contemplating the night.
Tonight, they are not the only ones. A little further down the
road, the monks at Ban Muang temple, one of two makeshift morgues
in Phangnga province, are also bringing the day to a close.
For weeks, this once peaceful place dominated by soft prayers
and meditation has been the home to victims of the tsunami.
After the disaster, bodies were being brought here in an endless
stream, and with the bodies came the families, the relatives,
the police, the army, the journalists and the public.
More than 1,400 bodies have been kept here, and around 1,000
still remain.
“Death is part of life and taking care of the bodies was
something we had to accept,” says Reverend Chalermchon
Chanatthathammo. “I now hope the temple can be restored
again, but it will take several months.”
One of reasons why a swift restoration of the temple is important,
he explains, is that it will facilitate the support the monks
are providing to the local population. Today, most people are
refraining from visiting the temple because they are afraid
they will catch a disease.
Instead, the monks are going to the temporary shelters and the
villages to console people and encourage them to be strong.
“Many survivors are still struggling to cope,” the
monk says.
However, progress is being made in addressing the mental health
needs of people in the affected areas. The Thai Mental Health
Department has set up a centre for psycho-social services at
their regional centre in Surat Thani. Teams of local psychologists
and counsellors are also visiting areas affected by the disaster.
Standing in the porch of the small whitewashed house in the
mountains above Kamala Beach in Phuket, 90-year-old Lerd Koysakul
is gripping on to the iron gate with her crooked fingers.
She is hesitantly watching the scene in her lush, green garden,
where some 10 small tents in bright colours now accommodate
some 50 tsunami survivors whose beachfront homes were badly
damaged by the giant waves.
“Of course we have had to help our family and friends,”
explains her granddaughter Aew Kantangkul, sharing the one table
with the temporarily residents. “But we get by with very
small means, sharing what we have and cooking in the common
kitchen. Some days there is a lack of drinking water.”
“Also, there is only one bathroom and two toilets. Suddenly
we found ourselves lining up in a queue,” she says, her
forced smile failing to hide her obvious concern.
A month after the disaster, the uncertainty about the future
for the people of Baan Huakuan village is still great. Are they
sure to be included in the future rehabilitation plans? That
is, will they be able to earn a living through the tourist industry?
Would their lives truly be rehabilitated?
“All we can do is carrying on waiting,” admits Aew
Kantangkul. “But hope is not an everyday emotion here."
For the adults, accommodation and work are surely the main priorities
in the aftermath of the tsunami. But Maneepan Asawarangkoon,
Head of the Thai Red Cross local chapter in Phuket, stresses
the importance of children getting back to school as soon as
possible.
“Since many parents have lost everything, they cannot
pay the school fees. Therefore, the Thai Red Cross will provide
scholarships for the children affected,” she says.
“We must not forget the youngest ones in the rehabilitation
process.”
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The
Thai Red Cross has helped to provide 60 temporary homes
for displaced people at the Ao Bo Tho relocation site
in Ban Muang
(p-THA0065)
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Buddhist
monks at Ban Muang temple have not only been praying for
the tsunami victims, they have also been providing counselling
to survivors at the temporary shelters
(p-THA0076)
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Hundreds
of coffins are piled up in the courtyard of Ban Muang
temple. There are still some 1,000 bodies still being
kept here (p-THA0067)
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| Ninety-year-old
Lerd Koysakul has turned her garden into a campsite for
50 residents whose beachfront houses were badly damaged
by the tsunami (p-THA0058)
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A
Thai Red Cross flag bearing the slogan “Clear and
Clean” flies in the destroyed fishing village of
Ban Naem Khem (p-THA0069)
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