This is a response I received from a friend traveling in Sri Lanka when the tsunami hit:
It was close, Tim, but I have survived and been rescued. Now back in Bangalore, heading to Kuala Lumpur tomorrow night. Minor injuries, broken foot, a gash in my leg and whole body seems to be one big laceration, but no infections. I am OK…details..
I was in Sri Lanka the eye of the tsunami and I have survived. Barely. I was in Unawatuna Beach, Sri Lanka for a few days in paradise. As it turned out, this was one of the hardest hit places and Sri Lanka was completely devastated. I had arrived the night before with two friends from Kandy and had a good rest. Early in the morning I ran the length of the beach and had returned to the guesthouse for coffee. At 9:10 AM on Sunday, December 26, I was sitting at a table on the sand with two Sri Lankan friends. And the nightmare began.
The first waves were small and simple and just didn’t make any sense. The tide should have been out. How could a wake like this come up and ruin my breakfast in paradise? It became clear that the waves were growing in a way not clearly understood, and very, very rapidly changing and growing. The third wave was the point at which we knew something was very wrong. The waves were picking up the beach furniture and throwing it at us. From there the intensity grew at a fantastic rate. All of us were washed out of the front door of the guesthouse, along with the food, flowers, furniture, shoes, wall- hangings, bottles, broken dishes, floor mats -everything was taken and thrown with the onrushing water.
I was carried across the road with all the flotsam and hurled into a small tree. The force of the water was so intense that I was pinned there until my friend Athula somehow tore me from the tree. From there we were separated and the power of the tsunami only increased. I was pulled underwater and trapped by the debris – huge chunks of concrete, trees and plants, and I was entangled in a cord of some sort. At one point it seemed certain that my last breath was taken. It was dark and I couldn’t tear loose of the debris. The same force the buried me somehow brought me back to the surface for one quick breath. Somehow I managed to get back to the surface and clawed my way among the floating pieces of furniture.
The fury of the inrushing water continued and as I spotted a tree trunk I grabbed hold and somehow managed to climb above the rising water line. At some point it became clear to me that I was out of immediate danger and that’s when I realized that there was someone calling at me. A German fellow was facing me at eye level from his second story window. Not close enough to get pulled in, but close enough for him to pass me a water bottle. I managed to spit out some of the saltwater taste and clear my throat. And breathe deeply for the first time in what seemed like forever. He then noticed that I had no shoes and handed me his sandals…I am wearing them now as they are my only shoes.
After some uncertain period, the water began to recede. That’s when the first bodies appeared, floating out with the receding water. The wail of mother’s who couldn’t find there children pierced the air and competed with the screams of the mothers who found their children dead. After climbing down, I looked for my friends and found them within 10 minutes – both were alive, both were ok.
We found higher ground, and that’s when someone noticed that I was bleeding. Seems there was a pretty good sized gash on my left leg. An Indian fellow went to find something to clean the wound and returned with a bath towel and a bottle of whiskey. He poured whiskey over the wound and felt for any foreign objects – and then tore the bath towel to form a tourniquet. The bleeding continued for quite a while, but didn’t seem major in light of the unfolding event.
I insisted on returning to my room to see if I could retrieve any personal belongings. It was very risky, but very productive. Most of the guesthouse had been washed away, but my corner room was still there – no windows, no door, and a heap of collapsed furniture – I found my shoulder bag, one shirt, one pair of shorts, my wallet, and my antibiotics. My suitcase was gone, all clothing, toiletries, shoes, camera, palm pilot – gone.
We went further uphill and found refuge in a guesthouse. Equipped for 20 people, there were 53 of us the first night. There was never a sharp word, the level of cooperation and kindness was reaffirming that we would survive. There was still fear, and sometimes panic, that another, larger wave might come. Fortunately we were safe – it’s just that we didn’t know it at the time. There was no news. No electricity, no phone. But there was a pure well and so we had drinking water and plenty of food.
On the second night we had word that the British High Commission was organizing two 40-passenger coaches to rescue us – as soon as the road could be cleared. At one of our regular community meetings to share what meager information was available, there was a request for someone to organize our departure. Finally there was something I could do – as the only American in the crowd, I immediately volunteered to develop a plan for our departure. It would be easy for me, remaining in one spot with my leg elevated to write out our escape protocol and organize the lists for the buses. We were overwhelmed when word reached us that the coaches arrived early on Tuesday morning. The departure was not free of problems, but we were able to get underway by about 10 in the morning, heading for Colombo. The drive was treacherous. More though, the devastation was gut-wrenching. Utter and complete devastation, mile after mile after mile. The pictures in the paper and on BBC cannot begin to describe the magnitude of this disaster.
I was able to get word out that I was safe via my friend’s uncle – he contacted my sister in Long Beach and the American Embassy in Colombo. But I didn’t know anyone knew I was safe until my sister was able to call through on my friend’s cell phone – a tearful, joyful call like no other.
After a 10 hour journey we reached Colombo. It is intact, by and large. I phoned the American Embassy and they came immediately to get me. An American family fed me, provided me with a place to stay, and a hot shower. On Wednesday morning the American Embassy and American Express Travel made arrangements to get me onto an already full flight from Colombo to Bangalore – that’s where I am now. Tomorrow night I will be heading to Kuala Lumpur to begin the new year.
I am OK, safe, and coping with the stress that follows a tragedy like this. I will be staying in Malaysia for the full time I originally planned, returning home just before the beginning of the new semester.
For me, the nightmare has ended. For the people of Sri Lanka, the agony will be long term. Please do whatever you can to assist in the relief effort.
This is my note: Here is a link directly to the Doctors Without Borders donation page. The majority of the money you spend (over 85%) goes directly to the program. Make your money count! http://www.doctorswithoutborders-usa.org/donate/