I returned from Thailand yesterday with a lovely tan and a broken heart.
Partner-In-Crime (PIC) and I spent the past week in Phuket, Koh Lanta and Koh Phi Phi. All three islands still bear the scars of last year’s tsunami. Especially Phi Phi.
The minibus wove its way through the narrow road towards our usual guesthouse in Phuket and it suddenly occurred to us that the building might no longer exist. To our relief, it was still there. The owner welcomed us back with a big smile and we spent the next half-hour chatting about the tsunami. She related how the water had gushed inland, sending she, her husband and their five dogs scrambling to the upper floor for safety. Many survived the wave, she said, but not the electrocution. Unlike Phi Phi, the wave hadn’t cut the power supply and torn cables lines sent jolts of electricity through the churning water.
We mentioned we were heading to Phi Phi to look for a friend. A handsome young Thai boatman named Win whom we had befriended on our first trip there. He usually slept in his boat at the water’s edge until late morning. We prayed he had found another bed that Christmas night. She wished us luck but warned us that Phi Phi was still in bad shape.
That night, we strolled along Patong beach and marveled at how expertly it had gotten back on its feet. Scrubbed floors and a few licks of paint, and it was like the tsunami never happened. The beach was brightly lit. A policeman scanned the sea for any suspicious happenings. A young Japanese girl stood on the sand, gazing with the saddest eyes at the black water. It was a beautiful night. If you tried hard enough, you could almost convince yourself the tsunami never happened.
The next day we headed to Ko Lanta, where Win’s family lived and ran a guesthouse. Our search was futile but a few locals assured us that he and his family had survived. He had returned to Phi Phi again, they said. We would stop there on our journey back. The rest of our stay in Lanta was spent talking to the locals and hearing their stories. For most of them, the horror was still fresh in their minds.
Pat, the manager of our guesthouse, is a resident of Khao Lak, the worst hit island in Thailand. He told us how he awoke to a roaring sound on Boxing Day. Peering out of his window, he saw the water rushing towards him. He immediately smashed the window and climbed onto the roof, where he hung on until the wave snatched him down and propelled him inland. As the water receded, he knew another wave was coming and made his way to a concrete building. He stayed there until the tsunami was over.
The bar manager, Yor, told us how he ran for his life when he saw the wave approaching his beach bar. Tong, the manager of the neighbouring guesthouse, attributed his survival to his girlfriend, who woke him up to see ‘the sea’s strange behaviour’. He escaped by the skin of his teeth.
Their stories were all different but they all uttered the same chilling sentence – “I thought today I die for sure.”
I couldn’t even comprehend what that felt like. PIC, who almost died in Sri Lanka, knew exactly what it did.
Before we left for Phi Phi, Pat got our his guitar and played us a song that a group of Thai bands had composed for the first anniversary later this month. It brought tears to my eyes. I will post the song up on December 26th.
Then we traveled to Phi Phi. Our Phuket guesthouse lady’s warning did nothing to prepare us for the sight that greeted our eyes. Before the ferry would swing around a huge limestone and Phi Phi would glide into view, its fringe dotted with longtail boats, rows of umbrellas and happy people in colourful swimsuits. This time, there was a smattering of boats and an empty beach. Where once you couldn’t see past the first row of beach front chalets, you could now see right to the other end of the island. I felt like a part of me had died.
Phi Phi has a special place in my heart because that’s where I chose to take my very first solo trip. I fell in love with it at first sight and stayed in love. To see it shattered was heart-wrenching.
We stepped onto the pier in a daze and there stood Win! After the ecstatic hugs and exclamations, he looked at us and said, “Phi Phi finished. Your bungalow finished. All gone.”
Then he slung his arms around us and took us for coffee. I will never forget his story.
He and his brother Fad, had been in Koh Lanta that morning and were extremely reluctant to go work in Phi Phi. But their sister and father wouldn’t hear of it. There were customers waiting to go on tours in Phi Phi so they had better get their brown butts out of bed. So they did. While waiting for their customers to show up, they decided to have breakfast at a coffee shop by the pier. Halfway through, the water disappeared into the horizon. Win ran out to examine the odd phenomenon. Tourists were disembarking from a packed ferry that had just docked. Behind them, racing faster than a bullet train, was a monstrous wave.
When it hit the island, people from one end were thrown to the other and sucked back again. Chalets fell like matchbox houses. Zinc roofs flew into the water, slicing people. The second cause of death after drowning, Win said.
“I run to Phi Phi hotel, but too many people already. So I run to mountain. Water is behind me. Noise very bad and so many people screaming “Help me!”. But I cannot stop. Water touching my feet. I think today I die.”
He tells us his story with his hands over his ears, as though still hearing the sound. His eyes are filled with anguish.
Win and many others stayed up the mountain for the rest of the day and night. Rumours spread that another wave was coming and many of the injured died from shock and the effort of trying to climb higher up.
At daybreak, they descended to find bodies and body parts strewn all over the island. In one area, bodies were stacked up like a wall. Dead fish were everywhere. The Reggae Bar became a makeshift hospital. Everyone was evacuated as soon as possible – the locals to Krabi and the tourists to Phuket airport. When the locals returned, nothing was left of their beloved island.
Win took us to the PP Twin Palms where we stayed during our first trip. It was gone. Then he took us to PP Pavillion where we stayed during our second trip last January. He said that the most number of deaths came from those chalets. We stared in silence, thinking of how much we loved those chalets and of the glorious week we had spent in its serenity.
Around us were pieces of debris, a sprawling vacant land, Thai boatmen trying in vain to entice tourists into a tour of the islands, makeshift stalls selling trinkets and a half built chalet.
As we surveyed the area, it puzzled us how Phuket was able to bounce back and Phi Phi was still struggling to even get on its knees. Then Win told us a story that was almost as shocking as the tsunami.
After being promised heaven and earth, the people of Phi Phi had only received RM200 each as compensation. No one knew where the millions of dollars in donations had disappeared. The residents had grown tired to waiting for the government to keep to its word and began to take matters into their own hands, by reopening their businesses as best they could.
Win, who had lost his boat
Jennifer, is now working in a travel agency on the island. Even that is struggling to stay afloat. Tourists are trickling back but not enough of them for the Phi Phi residents to rebuild their lives again. We gave Win RM200 before we boarded our ferry and promised to be back with more.
On the journey back, PIC and I put our heads together and discussed how to raise money for the Phi Phi residents. Our plan is slowly but surely taking off and to our delight, many friends have come forward to offer support.
I will post pictures of Phi Phi here soon. If any of you are contemplating visiting the island, please do. The beaches are still gorgeous and the people still wonderful. Prices may be a little steep but let me know if you’re planning on heading that way and I’ll get Win to work something out for you. Any support, no matter how small, goes a long way.
