Volunteering: Tsunami Disaster Relief- Yan Yao Temple, Takua Pa, Southern Thailand

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Many people we had talked to mentioned the need for help in the Takua Pa area. This had more or less become the center for dealing with the hundreds of unidentified corpses coming from the West coast of Thailand. Phuket, which as hit less intensely, was getting back to normal and tourism was coming back. It didn’t seem worthwhile to spend time on the coastal areas picking up wreckage for hotels, but rather something that would allow us to directly help the people affected by the tsunami that struck from the Indian Ocean off the coast of Sumatra on December 26.

We headed out on January 10 to see if we could be of any service in the area.

A Canadian named Matt went with us, along with our new friend Andy from England.

Matt had been there a couple times before, for us it was our first.

Immediately upon arrival a woman told us to sign in and have a seat to wait for someone to call us.

Two foreigners (non-Thais) stood outside the gate guarding the entrance.

Upon signing in we were given a piece of masking tape on which to write our names followed by “volunteer.”

To pass the time while waiting we perused the area that offered ‘free internet’, and passed by tables set up for DNA samples to match against those killed by the tsunami.

There were tables set up for family and friends searching for their lost loved ones.

Beyond these tables a handful of foreign women were offering free massages and beyond that stood placards bearing recent photographs of those killed by the tsunami.

People swallowed by the ocean and left to decay in tropical climate for 14 days.

We felt invasive to want to look at death recorded on film and displayed for identification.

Though the extent of decomposition and bloating seemed to make visual ID impossible.

We grew tired of waiting outside the main gate and walked through.

Our masking tape identifications were approved by security.

Inside the main gate people milled around what appeared to be a waiting area.

To our left numerous people served food- one place offering ‘Western coffee.’

Water, juice, and numerous other drinks were a plenty with a sign that read, “Please let us serve you. Avoid contamination.”

We apparently ran into the right person when we met a Thai woman volunteer from Bangkok named Or.

We followed her as she graciously took us further inside and handed us masks.

“The stench can be overwhelming at first,” she offered in advance before taking us to be suited up.

From the massive store of cheap hospital gear we put on long bibs with a plastic cover, surgical cap, rubber boots, and were given an extra mask with nose cinch of considerably thicker material.

Long rubber gloves were then taped around our forearms and we were told to follow.

As we were about to walk through the door a tall Swede named Peter gave the obligatory warning that what we will see is disturbing and we must not be faint of heart and ready for what we will encounter.

We followed Or through the decontamination station.

As we passed, we saw people being sprayed down by disinfectant before they exited the contaminated area.

Our leader stopped and turned around.

She gave us some words of wisdom and guidance.

“The smell is going to be the first thing you notice. Just acknowledge it and then let it go.

It is easier in this place if you are a Buddhist.

All is impermanent and these are just bodies,” she offered.

We were all feeling very anxious by the time we saw our first body.

The waiting and uncertainty of whether or not we’d be able to perform the tasks without throwing up, fainting, or becoming too disturbed to continue wore heavy on us. Some would continue talking to fill the space and attention prior to going in while others became very contemplative and serious. Upon entry we realized Or was right. It was the smell that you noticed right away. It was unbearable at first.

But as we look around and see the dozens of others working away we knew we had to bear it.

What we came to understand really quickly was that this was not a relief effort in any way.

We were in the center of the Buddhist monastery grounds.

It had been converted into a transfer and forensic station for an endless flow of corpses.

There were 14 day-old bloated and disfigured bodies lined up on the ground in rows.

They were in various phases of the transfer and identification process.

There were trucks arriving with loads of bodies.

These bodies would then be laid down in rows and tagged with numbers.

If they had any documents they would be bagged and numbered the same as the body.

Samples were taken for DNA and there were tables on which the bodies would be removed of their mandibles for dental examination.

We just stood there for a moment unable to move or say anything.

The severity of the disaster was starting to sink in now- the dead and mangled bodies and the stench all we could see.

Our first direction came then.

We need to match up the metal tag numbers on the wrists with the number attached to the body bag.

Trying not to panic, we realize we have to touch the bodies. These were the unidentified bodies that had just arrived in a truck. They each bore number tags matching files that were being created for each. These numbers matching body identification marks like tattoos, birthmarks, scars, as well as dental records and DNA samples. There was also a micro chip inserted into the corpse.

When tags matched up the bag could be zipped and the body could be transferred to cold container to keep.

I stepped between half open bags and bent low over the stench to read the metal tag attached to the wrist.

Besides the general shape of a human with legs, arms, torso, head, and the clothing worn at the time of death, it was hard to imagine what the person looked like in life.

The head unusually large and black, maggots roamed around eating and cleaning. The lower jaw more or less detached from the head with the tuft of the complete hair detached and to the side. The stomach bloated with shades of intense tan, reddish, black. This was human, but the dynamic characteristics had ceased to exist and lay stagnant, frozen.

Fortunately the first tag was displayed in full view without having to touch the body. I read it out to my Thai partner and he read off the tag on the bag. It matched and I zipped it as far as I could reach from the foot side and he finished from the other side. We went on to the next one. I tiptoed around feet and legs hidden underneath thin white plastic as I stepped down the row reading off the next tag, “1016.”

“1016!” Came the response and I started the zip.

“252,” I said.

“252!” came the response. Zip.

The levity of the reality in front of me, disaster…death fell behind the necessity of the job.

“1265.”

“1265!”

The pace had now allowed me to reconsider the role I played and I started to focus on visuals that could allow a family to identify a body. There was the massive eagle tattooed to the back of one man, complete and as lively as in life despite the state of the body in decay. There were the dark blue flowered swim trunks that scream fun in the sun and bikinis, now dirty, though still more pristine than the body that it enclosed.

Then there was the short and tight green 70s tee advertising Gummy Bears, midriff showing. At one point I thought, this might have been a girl I met on Koa San Road. What did she do the morning the tsunami hit? Who was she with? How long had she planned this vacation? How did she react when the waves came? What did she have planned for the next year of her life? What is her family thinking now?

Life is precious and nothing is guaranteed to anyone.

As I zipped up another bag I was going through powerful emotions. I am so lucky to be alive I thought. It could have easily been me. Thoughts of recent concerns, worries, and fears surfaced in my mind, though this time placid and unimportant, silly. Taking their place was a deep respect for life in its many forms and a greater desire to connect with this dynamic force.

I kept reminding myself that these bodies are just empty shells, with no souls. For the sake of families, here a job must be done. But if everything is impermanent like the woman said then what is there to hold onto? If life can be erased so easily then why should we become attached to anyone or anything? I guess these were fitting questions to ponder in a Buddhist monastery.

After lunch we got assigned a new job.

Trucks were arriving onto the site loaded with corpses.

It was our job to unload them and lay them into rows to begin the identification and forensics process.

We unloaded two trucks each carrying about 50 bodies.

There were four teams of us with stretchers.

We were the only non-Thai stretcher crew.

Everyone seemed generally pleased that we were there helping out. Whether it be the nature of the Thais, or reactions in the depth of the situation, they would all give us the thumbs up and thanks with their eyes. The sentiment and feeling was spread throughout the area -- warm signs of appreciation, compassion and communal understanding- smiles and laughs that betrayed the weight of those who perished on December 26.

Death has been made so private where we come from that to show curiosity into others’ lives after death is nearly a perversion that warrants shame. Yet in the depth of it all when a disaster such as this necessitates rapid and intense exposure what results is a respect for life in all its many forms and personalities.

You could see it in the careful and deliberate manner in which every body was placed and examined despite the sheer numbers.

It was in the eyes of each volunteer breaking from their post as they smiled truly at you and for you.

And in the way the Thais unloading bodies off the truck would give a slight bow and press their hands together in honor as they unloaded each once living body off the truck.

We each had experienced a day filled with death. The images of those bodies will remain in our memories for a long time to come.

Yet, likewise, I will always remember the smiling eyes behind the gas masks, and the sincerity of every individual who was with us dealing with this morbid manifestation of reality. By the end of the day we had all changed forever. If there was any shade of innocence left in my life that morning it had gone by that evening. It was replaced with a deeper respect and appreciation for the line between life and death.

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Tirian has been teaching English and traveling through Thailand for the past year and Peter who has been working in Nepal and India had come down to Thailand on holiday break. Andy lives in Turkey and is from England. He is traveling throughout SE Asia on an extended holiday.