Valentines Day at the Tsunami Volunteer Center

Monday morning my alarm clock went off at 6:45 am and I was momentarily confused by the source of the disturbance. My mind took a few seconds to register where I was and I peeled my heavy sleep deprived body off the bed. It was time to tackle another week of volunteering for tsunami relief. I threw on some already dirty cloths, slipped on my ripped-up, old shoes, and pulled my nametag over my head. My nametag read: ? Tsunami Volunteer Center , Tirian Mink,? in both English and Thai.

Before coming to the Center, I had been doing ?freelance? volunteering for several weeks here in Pang Nga Province on the Andaman Coast of Southern Thailand. In other words, I chose to work as an individual, unaffiliated with any of the NGO?s working in the region. I was just moving around this area, offering my service wherever there was need. When the series of massive waves came in unexpectedly on December 26th, Pang Nga province was the worst hit of all Thailand. Suffice it to say, it was not hard to find need. I spent the first week working in Yan Yao Temple in Takua Pa, helping the forensics process required with the massive influx of victims? bodies. You can read about that experience in a separate story. I can speak about it casually now, but the effect it had on me at the time was beyond words.

After that week, I felt like I had experienced more than a lifetime worth of death, and I wanted to offer my service to those who had lost everything, yet were still living. There were tens of thousands of survivors living in donated tents in temporary camps, and the hospitals were overflowing with injured. Whole villages were completely destroyed- as if they were merely sandcastles being washed away at high tide. The temporary camps were named after the villages that were destroyed. Villages such as: Baan Muang, Baan Niang, Tap Tawaan, Kuk Kak, Pak Weep, Bang Sak and on, and on, and on...

Just 10 years ago this area was exclusively fishing and shrimping communities of various ethnicities- Buddhist Thais, Muslim Thais, and several small communities of Sea Gypsies who lead simple lives that were sustained by the bounty of the sea. Since then it has developed into a major tourist destination, with 5-Star resorts, dive shops, shopping malls and 24-hour high-speed Internet shops.

I stepped out of my bungalow and headed down the forest path towards the Tsunami Volunteer Center. I weaved down the windy forest path through the complex of bungalows, the early morning air cool and fresh, and the sunlight filtered through the tree canopy in a spectrum of luminescent greens. Here in Khao Lak National Park, there is a multitude of tree species, plants, and wildlife- a level of biodiversity found in few places on Earth. This time of day, if I pay close attention, I can feel the breath of the forest releasing high concentrations of oxygen after a dormant night of sleep.

At the Center small groups of volunteers were already forming into teams and preparing for their day of work. This morning there were 3 construction teams preparing for their projects, a team of teachers getting ready to go to the schools, furniture builders setting up the onsite shop, and many new volunteers from all over the world wandering around looking lost waiting for direction from their more experienced counterparts. Of course there were the resident gibbons, which descend from the trees in the morning to throw a wrench into the already difficult challenge of organizing teams. They were swinging from the rafters, smacking people on their heads, and antagonizing Lucky the dog, by pulling his tail and playfully biting his ears.

The Center sprung up spontaneously the moment the tsunami hit. Nearly every other resort within 50 miles in either direction was completely destroyed. The Nature Resort, now the Tsunami Volunteer Center, is operated by a cheerful Thai man named Pi Keaw. It was fortunate to have been located 2 miles outside of Khao Lak- perched safely on a hill above the town. Pi Keaw has become somewhat of a legend because of his selfless acts of bravery and kindness immediately after the wave. As the legend goes, Pi Keaw was personally responsible for rescuing hundreds of people from the destroyed beaches in the area. He immediately started taxiing survivors to the local hospitals, stopping only to cover lifeless bodies with sheets from his resort. After 20 hours of non-stop work he had rescued over 200 people and was housing dozens of survivors in his resort for free.

After breakfast of coffee, rice and leftover curry from the night before our team loaded 12 people into a pickup truck, all of us crammed into the back along with a load of reclaimed wood (deconstructed coffins) that had to be dropped off at a temporary shelter camp along the way. We headed to Baan Tap Tawaan, a Morgan village that was completely destroyed by the tsunami.

The Morgan are sea gypsies who immigrated to southern Thailand only 100 years ago. These people suffered relatively small loss of life compared to the adjacent ethnic Thai and Muslim communities. This is because they have a legend that has been passed down from their ancestors. This myth warns of The Monsoon Monster that will come to destroy them one day. Before coming, the Monsoon Monster breathes in the sea to collect his power. Consequently, when the Morgan saw the tide going far out minutes before the tsunami hit, they ran into the hills with their families and livestock. This is in stark contrast to the way many foreigners and vacationing Thais ignored the signs of the tsunami and actually flocked to the beach to watch the beautiful giant wave as it approached.

At Baan Tap Tawaan, the Center?s volunteers are working alongside and under the direction of the Morgan villagers and the Village Chief, assisting them to rebuild 40 permanent homes for the families. They are living in temporary housing structures and are very eager to return to their land and some sense of normalcy. As volunteers it is very important for us to be very sensitive to the culture and needs of the communities we are assisting. They do things different here than where we are from, and being humble while you help is essential.

Today the Center is still in a state of flux. Originally a shelter for victims, it has quickly and organically evolved into a center for relief work with a focus on multiple sustainable development projects with over a hundred volunteers from various backgrounds, countries and ethnicities. It is not uncommon to be working on a project with volunteers representing over 10 countries. Everyone comes for different personal reasons, but all are united in the desire to help alleviate the suffering of our Thai brothers and sisters.

As I write this, The Center has only just become a legitimate NGO with the ability to accept international donations. Up until now, it has been funded and run by The Mirror Foundation, with two grants, one from a nationally based Thai health organization, and the other from United Kingdom NGO, ?Save the Children.? At the moment there are about 26 projects running simultaneously and all labor is voluntary. Volunteers also contribute to the monthly overhead expenses by donating 200Bht (5USD) per day.

Everyday new people come and friends leave. For me personally, this experience has been highly inspirational and emotionally uplifting. To be able to wake up every day and offer my services to those in need, to spend the majority of my time with highly motivated and interesting people from all over the world- for me, volunteering is not a personal sacrifice but a gift to my spirit. Volunteering means more than building houses or teaching children for free. It?s much more than rebuilding fishing boats or delivering needed food and water. To me what is most important is the feeling that is passed between volunteers and the tsunami victims.

The message is clear: we are all brothers and sisters on this planet. Nationality, race, ethnicity, religion, class status, and all the other categories that divide us, dissolve in these acts of selfless and unconditional love. When these superficial categories are removed, what remains is the resilient human spirit, which will never be extinguished- and the knowledge that we are all in this together.