It always amazes me that the world will put aside differences and come together to help in these times of unspeakable devastation. Right now aid is flowing toward Japan from everywhere on the planet and the prayers are planet-wide.
However, as soon as the disaster is perceived as "over," we are all separate again, we retreat within our imaginary borders defined by invisible lines on our planet. We return to our own countries and communities and we will once again become "us" and everyone else will become "them" again...
Perhaps these devastating events are designed to help us return to the reality that we are all "us" as much as we are all "them."
While we are praying for comfort and aid to reach Japan, I am also going to be praying that we can maintain the current consciousness of our connection to the people who are suffering there right now.
On Dec. 26th, 2004, I was sitting in our apartment in Kerala, South India, eating my lunch, when I heard an unbelievably loud roaring sound outside. Much to my shock, I looked out the window to see water around 12 ft. deep surging in and around the building complex.
There was no storm, the sky was blue and clear, and the buildings were a 5 minute walk to the Arabian Sea. I couldn't believe my eyes! It was beyond bizarre to see this raging water suddenly appearing and gushing around the buildings. Just as I was thinking HOW could this possibly be happening, human voices could be heard screaming. even above the din of the raging waters, "THE SEA!!! THE SEA!!!". And so the cries of unbelievable anguish began that would continue for days....and forever in my heart.
I had no idea WHY the sea was outside my window on the 5th floor, rising a foot a minute, and it was obvious that there was no way of leaving the building. I thought that if the water rose high enough, maybe boats could come and take us all away. I hastily finished my lunch (as I thought it would be the last meal I would have to eat for a some time), and quickly packed the few items that I hold particularly dear, my tooth brush and a change of clothes, and quietly waited and prayed for the best possible to happen for everyone and everything in the area. Meanwhile, people on the lower floors were frantically coming up to the higher levels to also wait. At that time, none of knew the extent or cause of the devastation in the area.
We were indeed fortunate. Within a few harrowing hours, after the waters swept (and "swept" is the key word here) across the narrow peninsula and into the back waters on the other side, boats came to evacuate us. The waters had receded enough for us to come out of the buildings with most adults able to wade thigh deep to the boats, with children, the elderly, and those with physical problems carried.
We ended up in what I refer to as a "4 star" refugee camp, a newly constructed engineering college across the backwaters, and far enough inland to be safe. It was VERY crowded conditions, but food (much more delicious than my lunch!), bedding (clean!), and water (boiled!) MIRACULOUSLY appeared. All ages, religions, castes, and nationalities came together and supported each other in this college building refugee camp. ALL differences were cast aside. But the wails of anguish and grieving were ever present, both audible and inaudible.
Days later, it was learned that the only buildings that survived the tsunami battering the peninsula were the steel enforced cement buildings where we lived. All else was swept away.
So, here we ALL were, the cement building dwellers (both Indian and foreigners), housed in the same refugee camp with hundreds of our thatched hut village neighbors who had lost everything they had: members of their families, their parents, their spouses, their children (some ripped our of their hands by the waves they were fleeing), their houses with everything in them, their fishing boats (their only livelihood). To add to their grief, these fisher-people had ALL WAYS considered the sea as their MOTHER. The sea was their sustenance. Now the sea had violently taken everything away.
We were ALL in the same place, at the same time, for the same catastrophe, yet a small number of us were only mildly inconvenienced, while everyone else lost most of what was dear to them, never to return. I will always be in wonder about this, and I will NEVER forget the wailing of sorrow in our refugee camp. Sorrows beyond words. Sorrows beyond worldly consolation.
Yet these courageous people recovered, strength and faith prevailed in their inner being. They got up, and with loving and kind assistance, both near and far, eventually, some semblance of a normal life was reconstructed, although nothing will ever be the same again on the coast of Kerala.
SORROWS BEYOND WORDS
It always amazes me that the world will put aside differences and come together to help in these times of unspeakable devastation. Right now aid is flowing toward Japan from everywhere on the planet and the prayers are planet-wide.
ReplyDeleteHowever, as soon as the disaster is perceived as "over," we are all separate again, we retreat within our imaginary borders defined by invisible lines on our planet. We return to our own countries and communities and we will once again become "us" and everyone else will become "them" again...
Perhaps these devastating events are designed to help us return to the reality that we are all "us" as much as we are all "them."
While we are praying for comfort and aid to reach Japan, I am also going to be praying that we can maintain the current consciousness of our connection to the people who are suffering there right now.
Namaste' fellow air breathers, keep it light.
REFLECTIONS: 2004 INDIAN OCEAN TSUNAMI
ReplyDeleteOn Dec. 26th, 2004, I was sitting in our apartment in Kerala, South India, eating my lunch, when I heard an unbelievably loud roaring sound outside. Much to my shock, I looked out the window to see water around 12 ft. deep surging in and around the building complex.
There was no storm, the sky was blue and clear, and the buildings were a 5 minute walk to the Arabian Sea. I couldn't believe my eyes! It was beyond bizarre to see this raging water suddenly appearing and gushing around the buildings. Just as I was thinking HOW could this possibly be happening, human voices could be heard screaming. even above the din of the raging waters, "THE SEA!!! THE SEA!!!". And so the cries of unbelievable anguish began that would continue for days....and forever in my heart.
I had no idea WHY the sea was outside my window on the 5th floor, rising a foot a minute, and it was obvious that there was no way of leaving the building. I thought that if the water rose high enough, maybe boats could come and take us all away. I hastily finished my lunch (as I thought it would be the last meal I would have to eat for a some time), and quickly packed the few items that I hold particularly dear, my tooth brush and a change of clothes, and quietly waited and prayed for the best possible to happen for everyone and everything in the area. Meanwhile, people on the lower floors were frantically coming up to the higher levels to also wait. At that time, none of knew the extent or cause of the devastation in the area.
We were indeed fortunate. Within a few harrowing hours, after the waters swept (and "swept" is the key word here) across the narrow peninsula and into the back waters on the other side, boats came to evacuate us. The waters had receded enough for us to come out of the buildings with most adults able to wade thigh deep to the boats, with children, the elderly, and those with physical problems carried.
We ended up in what I refer to as a "4 star" refugee camp, a newly constructed engineering college across the backwaters, and far enough inland to be safe. It was VERY crowded conditions, but food (much more delicious than my lunch!), bedding (clean!), and water (boiled!) MIRACULOUSLY appeared. All ages, religions, castes, and nationalities came together and supported each other in this college building refugee camp. ALL differences were cast aside. But the wails of anguish and grieving were ever present, both audible and inaudible.
Days later, it was learned that the only buildings that survived the tsunami battering the peninsula were the steel enforced cement buildings where we lived. All else was swept away.
So, here we ALL were, the cement building dwellers (both Indian and foreigners), housed in the same refugee camp with hundreds of our thatched hut village neighbors who had lost everything they had: members of their families, their parents, their spouses, their children (some ripped our of their hands by the waves they were fleeing), their houses with everything in them, their fishing boats (their only livelihood). To add to their grief, these fisher-people had ALL WAYS considered the sea as their MOTHER. The sea was their sustenance. Now the sea had violently taken everything away.
We were ALL in the same place, at the same time, for the same catastrophe, yet a small number of us were only mildly inconvenienced, while everyone else lost most of what was dear to them, never to return. I will always be in wonder about this, and I will NEVER forget the wailing of sorrow in our refugee camp. Sorrows beyond words. Sorrows beyond worldly consolation.
Yet these courageous people recovered, strength and faith prevailed in their inner being. They got up, and with loving and kind assistance, both near and far, eventually, some semblance of a normal life was reconstructed, although nothing will ever be the same again on the coast of Kerala.
What an incredible experience. I am speechless.
ReplyDeleteOh, my, Christine. Thank you so much for sharing this moving experience with us!
ReplyDelete