|
| |
“ALL MY TROUBLES SEEM SADLY TRIVIAL…”
By: Chattan Kunjara Na Ayudhya (Tourism Authority of Thailand)
Rather than give you a day-by-day account of the week that was, I thought I
would share with you some memories of my time down south. These include stories
of hope and stories of heartbreak. Suddenly all my troubles seem sadly trivial
compared to the personal tragedy of the persons I’ve met. Isuppose in a person’s
life you must encounter both, to give your life meaning and the balance needed
to keep you sane. In every story I relate to you, there will always be one
common factor; the human spirit to overcome all odds will shine through.
As I was waiting for a van to take me from Phuket to Krabi at 3.30 A.M. on 28
December, I had a talk with a Hungarian guide who was waiting for a chartered
flight from Budapest. She told me that she was concerned that he r group might
be enjoying itself while others were suffering, that her group might not act
appropriately in light of the circumstances. I told her that as the group had
made plans to come to Phuket and stuck by them, she should try her best to keep
it in a positive mood. She was still unconvinced and told me that she had
actually made plans to go to Phang-nga before the group arrived but then changed
her mind. She thought that Lord Buddha was watching over her and her group. I
said that to tell that to her group. She just nodded and left.
When I was stationed at Krabi Airport to help victims return home as so on as
possible, a couple (Canadian man with Thai wife) came to us to offer its
assistance as the wife could speak Thai, English and Japanese. She had a Ph.D.
from Japan and just arrived on holiday in Krabi. The couple stayed with us
helping for several hours before leaving, asking me where in Phuket it could go
for some R&R. I told the two Phuket is a big island and hopefully they could
find some place not destroyed by the disaster.
Today I will relate to you the stories that mattered most to me and ones that I
hope will get you thinking. So much happened during my time in Krabi that it was
difficult for me to single them out, but I feel I owe it to the people I’ve met
(and in many ways I’ve never met) to pass on to you these stories.
There was a Thai guy named Phat who helped us load patients into planes,day and
night, for 3 days straight. At first, I thought he was someone sent by a local
hotel to help. It turned out he was a front office manager a t a Khao Lak hotel
who survived. He had nothing left but a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.
He told me he lost everything and really had nowhere to go, so he just committed
himself to helping us as much as he could. I didn’t even get to thank him as he
disappeared on the fourth day. I hope he is okay and finds work soon.
At the other end of the spectrum was a Thai lady who owned a resort on Ko Lanta.
She, too, lost everything, to the tune of 35 million baht invested in the
resort. She kept coming to our airport counter to escort her guests then went
away to get some more. Of course, some of her guests were never found.
A Swedish guy came to us dazed and sad. He lost his parents, wife and
son. He just sat there, saying very little. I was thinking to myself “What can
you possibly say to a person who is going through something like that ?” In the
end, none of us said very much and we sent him to Bangkok on a flight.
All the time I was at Krabi Hospital, there was one thing that stood out in
my mind, a most amazing thing. Every single doctor and nurse there was calm and
extremely organized, and sometimes you would think they were downright cheerful.
How they could remain smiling and polite with all the chaos and suffering
surrounding them will, for me, remain one of the greatest
mysteries of life.
A Thai girl was accompanied by her family members to our counter, well after
most foreigners have departed Phi Phi. It so happened that she remained behind
to find and identify the body of her New Zealand husband. Eventually she did,
through a tattoo on his arm. Her scarred body and face did not tell me she was
also two months pregnant, until a colleague of mine told me.
I assisted a guy from the British Embassy in discharging British nationals from
the hospital. At first I assumed he was from the embassy in Bangkok, but then he
told me that he was stationed in the embassy in Kathmandu and that he was in
Krabi on holiday with his wife. They were both unharmed. He also joked (I hoped)
that he wanted to escape the civil unrest in Nepal and Krabi seemed like an
ideal place for that. In 3 days, Andrew McCosh probably got about three hours of
sleep.
Finally, I met a Thai girl who got injuries on Phi Phi. She was in a hotel
room with her foreign boyfriend when the wave hit. They were swept away in
different directions and when she met me, she was still looking for him. She
said she felt his hand shielding her head from impact with a wall and that was
all she could remember. Her story is similar to others I came across, except for
one thing: Her last name is Roddee, translated to mean “good survivor.” I told
her never to change it.
In my time in Krabi, I literally lost track of time. My whole team really didn’t
know or care what day or date it was. When we found out it was January 1, we
didn’t feel like celebrating, we even felt it was kind of wrong to do so. It was
probably the most subdued New Year I ever had but I thought that was
appropriate. There will still be plenty of time to be in a festive mood, just
not then.
If there is a feeling I choose to remember for as long as I want, it is that
through all the despair, there was always hope, whether it was finding a loved
one, meeting family, recovering from serious injury, or just continuing on with
one’s life as best he can.
That hope was not only prevalent in the victims of the disaster, but also in
people from different paths of life who came together, either by chance or by
choice, to help others. For one moment in time, nobody really cared what you did
for a living, what your family status was, or who you were, for that matter.
There were other things more important than you, and in order for us to handle
what we had to do, each of us had to find within the capacity to hope and the
ability to pass that hope to others who needed it more than us.
When I was having breakfast at a roadside restaurant on the next to last day
before I left Krabi, tears just dropped from my eyes. I was thinking better then
than while I was with injured people and those who lost everything. Good thing I
was wearing sunglasses or I would have spoiled the appetite of the other
patrons. It was January 1, you see, and I didn’t want to be the one who got
their New Year off to a sad start. So I just lowered my head and sobbed quietly.
I felt some relief afterwards as I was finally
able to grieve somewhat.
That will have to stop now that I’m with my family. My wife asked me to tell her
what went on in Krabi. I told her that I eventually will, some day.
Chattan
|
![[]](ATT000433.jpg)