prose: Wan Nur Sunami Wan Albakri

(this is from verbal sources, and as is with verbal sources, subject to exaggeration and liquid evidence)

I was a bit apprehensive when a friend told me (on Boxing Day) that his house we were in was shaking earlier that morning. It came out with a casual inquiry as to where we parked our car, and when we told him it was at the immediate ground floor of the 4 storey flat he recommended that we move it outside the building’s footprint. In my mind I was thinking, great, save the car first, we can always buy our lives at a used life sale, after being persuaded by a typical used life salesman. (but what were I myself to do, I ponder, were I to face such circumstance?)

I, who rummaged through the Technical Report on the Collapse of Highland Towers for several semesters, feared it was a structural defect.

(I had no opportunity to news because I was attending a wedding) The realization that it was an earthquake came to me with a phone call from my Dad in London who saw it on CNN. When I got home, my brother told me about my eldest grandmother’s kenduri (which I had to forgo) being washed by a big wave.

Those few weeks saw Kampong Kuala Muda, Seberang Perai Pulau Pinang in a bit of commotion. Main roads are full of parked cars (beachfront resident’s, aid worker’s, curious people’s), victims relocated to a school, and some residents clearing dried mud from their houses (like mat salleh shoveling snow from their compounds in winter).

And conversations-

“depa dok peghati nu apa dia benda putih-putih sepanjang-panjang laut tu dok mai dekat”

“dia mai tinggi bumbung sekolah”

“nasib baik la takdak oghang pi cari kepah, pasai masa jadi tu, ayaq tenang, takdak ribut takdak apa, dia mai tiba-tiba”

“perahu orang ke laut habih, depa jumpa balik bersusun kat pulau tengah tu, bercampoq pukat hang pukat aku”

It was fortunate that there were several kenduri in the area, making the villagers lively and busily scurrying about, instead of lazily dozing inside their houses or leisurely collecting kepahs at the beach (under the very noses of harm) typical of an uneventful Sunday. It was easier to alert and herd people who are already up on their feet.

In the event of the big waves hitting the beach during the kenduri, as related by my brother (please note that this portion of the kampong is not as badly struck as elsewhere, the houses are still standing, and only one life was claimed):

- people hurriedly saving their cars
- some fled to safety, some abandoned the scene where help might be needed, some even fled back home but soon realized they forgot a relative at the scene,
- some would remain at the affected houses, indifferent to a probability of a recurring onslaught
- couldn’t care less to confirm whose boat was seen in the sea prior to the tsunami (and who might be dead), and to check if there are family members missing after the waves hit
- nobody informed the authorities (police, firemen, paramedics, even the ketua kampong) of the incident

What we can learn from these incidents is that in spite of living long in a peaceful existence we are ill-prepared and sometimes fail to be reasonable in event of such disasters. Some were concerned more that the kenduri was ruined when it should be a cause for reflection that it unintentionally helped to save lives. (and what were I myself to do, I ponder, were I to face such circumstance? In these cases, I was just the outsider looking in) Butter has indeed made us fat.

And then there was the aftermath. When charity is politicized, the benevolence of philanthropists worldwide who handed in huge amounts of money in aid of the victims is misplaced. Those who were truly needy of the fund, whose wrecked perahus severed their sole source of living, were given only a small consolation while the remainder of it goes to close relatives and neighbours of the distributor of the aid, who were not in the least affected. Even to this day I can see people smilingly walking a-hippity-hop with free mattresses collected at the aid points, to their houses some few kilometers away from the affected areas.

There were also the greedy. When aid workers distributing the relief funds called for names and found out that the person was absent from the meeting, they would ask for a representative. One villager would bear the responsibility, in fact, of at least three names which gave him at least RM2000 in funds, only to act oblivious of the money when claimed by the rightful recipients. There was also a family from as far as Perak (when the hell did a tsunami hit Perak? Are you asking for one? I hope you get one, and I hope you won’t survive, that you are macerated and bloated in all your repulsive greediness) trying to claim a piece of the pie, and RELA members suspected of breaking in temporarily evacuated houses which they were supposed to be guarding (the police was obliged to take over to prevent this incident from recurring). I just hope this sad state of affairs is corrected pronto.

Even a wall of water this magnitude cannot wash the filth out of the hearts of men.