26.12.04

I laid a couple of days in bed after the Christmas. My back had caved in again. Going to toilet is exquisite torture, indeed. My TV was broken and my back did not allow me to sit to use the internet, so I got no news about the Tsunami Disaster. A friend came by and told me about the disaster. I wanted to do some sort of volunteer work. Many, many of my friends are (were?) divers, I just have to go and do my bit. I am a jack of few trades, a diver, somewhat computer savvy and multilingual. Perhaps I could be of use in the disaster area. Recovering drowned bodies is no work for anyone squeamish but I'd do that, too. I tried to contact various and sundry persons and organisations over the net, but my dial-up was very slow and I just could not find anyone with a clear picture of the matter.

27. and 28.12.04

My back got so much better I could sit in front of computer hours on end to try to find someone needing me at the disaster area. No luck, I did not find anyone over the net, nor over the phone. At this stage it all is chaos, so I better just show up, roll my sleeves and get to work. Surely they'd need someone not minding to get down and dirty, someone who gets things done.

29.12.04

My back was OK again, so I jumped in the car to drive to Thailand, Phuket and show up for work there. I packed my stuff in the car, laptop, personal medicines and all the hand tools I had. I did not have much tools left. They were stolen from my car six months ago when I was unconscious in the car and bleeding. A truck slammed into my car from behind pushing me to the oncoming lane and three more cars slammed into my car. The truck driver abandoned his vehicle and literally ran away. The police located the driver later. Someone told me that the driver the police apprehended was not the one that really was driving the truck. The rumour has it that the original driver was drunk and run away so his sober brother/friend/cousin later appeared as the driver. I do not know, this country is full of rumours. The truck belongs to the City. My lawyer tells me the city admits their guilt but they have no insurance on their trucks and said they won't pay a penny without court order. My medical bill was more than 13 000 USD. I was clinically dead and had to spend a lot of time in intensive care unit in two hospitals. I reckon the City officials hope that I as a foreigner can't afford to fight them because all my money is gone into medical bills and because the deck of justice is always stacked against a foreigner. I borrowed the money to pay the lawyer, the fight is on.

On packing my stuff I found out my cleaning lady had stolen my little emergency fund of about 500 USD and 150 Euros from my suitcase. It had double numerical lock but the clever lady must've had some boyfriend who could open the locks. I live alone and no one else has keys to my house. No wonder she up and disappeared some while ago. I had to go and buy new locks as she still had the key. Sometimes this country shows a really ugly face to a foreigner.

I and a friend drove to Phang-Na Hospital where I had been told they needed multilingual volunteers. On driving down (left-handed traffic, remember) there I saw several convoys of heavy trucks hauling goods and heavy duty earth moving equipment. For some reason the convoys were driving on the right-hand lane and other traffic on the left lane on the four-lane highway, so it was full chaos on the road. The trucks on the convoys were driving so close to one another that it was nearly impossible to pass the convoys on single-lane roads. Thais took insane risks and passed the whole convoy but I had to drive slowly behind the convoys. I just could not afford to have another accident where I would be a guilty foreigner. Being an innocent foreigner has shown itself to be costly enough.

On arrival at Phang-Na hospital we heard that all foreign patients had been moved out and that we would be needed in Phuket, particularly if we would pay our own hotel bills. Ok, that's where we drove.

Late at night on arrival at Phuket we met the Big Shot, Richard, of volunteer gang that formed The International Victim Coordination Center. We promised to appear there in the morning. We went to dilapidated hotel at an outrageous 1200 baht a night! No discount for the volunteers there. After all day of driving I crashed and slept very well.

30.12.04

We went to Phuket Provincial City Hall in the morning and I set up my computer. There was no net connection and only our private telephones so we could do only local things such as get information of the people seeking their loved ones. I sat all day and took against photos and descriptions of missing people from grieving relatives and friends. Wedding pictures, pictures of matriculations, family celebrations. Pictures of small, smiling, happy children. A girl hugging a dog. A small boy sitting in grandma's lap, both now missing.

The sorrow, the loss, the grief lay on us all like a black, merciless, suffocating blanket. Truly heart-rendering work. No wonder some people burn out in a day. Much as they burn out in the recovery of bodies.

There was a lull in the work and I sat at my computer to make some forms to be used with the interviews and with the filing of various material we are gathering. Making forms is not just bureaucracy, it's programming the activities. I had to cower behind the laptop from the constant broadsides of tears, sobs, voices breaking down, shaking hands unable to write.

There was no printer, no way of getting the forms out of the computer and into the hands of the volunteers to ease and streamline the work. I gave Pai, the truly magnificent Thai lady 6000 baht to buy us a printer. An hour later the printer was there, I hooked it up. I was running low on the funds, but we we're rockin'n'rollin', making headway.

I went back to hotel, took a shower and cried myself to sleep. I am in my fifties, a hard-case, have had severe losses in my life and I cried myself to sleep.

The smiling little children, the silver haired grand-parents, the newlyweds.

They tell me there's God. All-knowing, all-wise, merciful and compassionate.

Yeah, right.

31.12.04

This morning we got phone lines, but they were so slow they did not carry data. No net access on our site. I started translating various and sundry material and put it on the disk to publish it in the net through free computers in the nearby information building. Advice, information, net addresses, websites, the denial of various and sundry rumours, the works. I also downloaded information of how the authorities in various countries were advising their citizens to act. The uniform advise was not to travel to Thailand to seek the relatives. Absolutely everything was already being done.

The International Victims Coordination Center published a detailed advise to victims relatives and friends about what to do, what not to do. I translated it and published it on several various websites and send it to several newspapers an TV stations an radio services. A very hard 16 hour day of work.

An inconsolable German girl collapsing in tears against me, a copy of her missing fiancées dental record in my hand.

More nightly tears.

01.01.2005.

More and more things get organised. More and more of groups around us need things from us. We have been here longer and we have our things organised and are helping others to get rolling. I make receipts for the Swedish team delivering medicine to various needy points, a list of basic survival material dealt out by some British team. God love them for their level-headed approach. Just basic start-over-from-scratch stuff.

No whistles, no glitter, no perfume.

Several net sites need the addresses of the DNA sample delivering points in Thailand. Several support groups need assurance there's no raging cholera epidemic in Thailand.

We now have LAN and are constantly on the net. I translate material from us to net sites, from net sites to us. Questions, claims, accusations, wild rumours. From all around we grunts in the front lines with dirt under our fingernails get much support. My back is killing me and the steel inside my right thigh is throbbing. Never mind, no time for that now.

Hard, hard work. Wonderful, caring, altruistic people.

This night no tears, I just shake.


02.02.05

My friend went back, he has a living to make. He lent me a bundle, I'll be ok for a while. Also they paid two first days of my hotel, which will help. We get free food on the site, free coffee and free phone calls in Thailand. Free food saves me money, curse the thieving bitch.
Right next to me works a pretty young Thai lady. She brought me a black ink cartridge for the printer and would not accept money from me. Free cartridge gives me an extra day here if I can find a cheaper guesthouse. I've been too busy during the day and too tired to go looking for one once the day is done. The Thai lady is very computer savvy and really nice looking. Then someone tells me she's a professor at one of the Universities in Thailand.

Lucky students.

Behind me Youth With A Mission (YWAM) guys have set up a station for all and everyone to have computer access to the very latest of the databases concerning missing persons. Most of the database is the one we have made here. YWAM seems to be one, helluva organisation. No one of them gets paid. All the money goes directly to the needy. No sticky-fingered middlemen, no retired generals enjoying a nice sinecure within the Well-Known and Respected International Organisation.

No leeches, no thieves of little people's money.

They rip a bunch of us off whatever we are doing and cart us to Phuket Police Station. We are to translate the contents of a net site into several European tongues. There's young Bangkok Michael of Germany; Zolt, a Hungarian of Sweden; sunburned, body-recovering Dennis the Dutch-Finn; exquisite Lolita, a gazelle-like 19 year old multilingual black girl from Switzerland; Douglas of Venezuela, a permanent resident of Thailand since 24 years; Liz; a lively looker and competent authority of King's English, Alan of Canada and Jeff, an American, both from YWAM and myself, a nobody from no particular place. A very representative sample of the hodgepodge of us volunteer farangs.

We are the farang the Government constantly likes to jerk around with visa matters.

To our horror we find that the material we are supposed to translate is totally against the instructions of the police in most countries in Europe. We absolutely refuse to translate about DNA samples and dental records being sent to this website. We are interrupted in our lamentations and keelhauled to a meeting room. Here we hear that this website is being incorporated into another website but we still are to work only for this website. It's just what an independent crew like us needs; politics and a giant ego-trip.

Someone's making money on the disaster and we are just pawns in this game.

Fucking disgusting!

We translate the contents so that the contents are legally right in the countries concerned and return to Phuket Town hall. There we vote not go on with the website that is devoted to making a buck on the disaster. Politics, ego and greed, no thanks.

This night no tears, no shakes. I can not sleep.


03.01.2005

Landing helicopters vomit Bangkok Ballerinas in their Pretty Uniforms, Big Shot Politicians timing their visit in the lime-light to the arrival of Big Shot Politicians from other countries. All dancing to the Satan's fiddles of the TV crews. Media vultures engorging themselves on the minutes of the prime-time news. Political moths drawn by the hypnotic light of the camera crews.

The suffering people are just required props in this dance macabre.

The rotors whip up dust covering the computers and the wind ruffles the papers on the dusty printer.

I am approached by a Hong Kong TV crew. They ask several questions and the girl doing the interview reminds me of the German girl looking for her fiancée. I am exhausted by the pain in my leg and my back and due to lack of sleep. I can barely contain myself describing the boundless sorrow of trembling people we face every day. I remember that a couple of my acquaintances in HK are on the Fortune 500 list. I can not resist temptation to publicly challenge them both to donate generously to tsunami victims. They are good and generous persons. They both have broken bread in my house and I had an gentleman's agreement with their late father. They both quite possibly are the brightest men I have ever met. I expect no less than one million HK dollar of them each. Let's see.

Later a lady reporter from HK newspaper comes directly to me. They must've talked among themselves. I renew my challenge to the brothers through the newspaper. I hope they run both the TV interview and the newspaper. It would benefit those in need.

Again I keep on telling on the net not to come to Thailand to look for their relatives. All the areas where DNA-work or forensic work is being carried out are out of bounds by the IVCC police order for everyone except the specialists. Canadian Joe from Malaysia and Pat (USA) no longer work with the dead bodies in temples and morgues, they now help us.

Curiously, when I collate the IVCC news, bulletins and information, orders even, and send them to the media, very few TV and radio stations, few newspapers publish them. They'll be later published through Official Channels. Embassy personnel, briefly visiting dignitaries from various Recognised Charities rip our bulletins from various and sundry notice boards and send them to their organisations. Then they'll get published. Twelve hours later than they were published on thousands of volunteer websites. And everyone pretends not to notice.

The Emperor does have splendid clothing.

Thank God for Internet.

The people are the media.


It is apparent the Established Organisations hate us and the media plays in their court. A rapid, flexible, dedicated volunteer group shows the Approved, Established Organisations for what they are: bloated, inefficient, self-serving and well-paid with a nice, padded expense account. And yes, the volunteer groups seldom have a Pretty Uniform, no nice khaki. Often it is just jeans and t-shirt. It is, however, cool and therefore conducive to work.

No medals, no peaked cap. No elegance at all.

In their rapid rush to help out the ragged bands of roving volunteers also make mistakes. In word, in deed, in publishing. They do not have the same responsibility the Established Channels have in checking and double-checking the details, the truthfulness of the info. So it is easier for us to be quick about it all. However, the 6 to 12 hour lead in publishing the established info clearly shows our efficiency over theirs.

The brilliant Russian Ilya returns to Bangkok. He too needs to make a living. We all miss him.

Again I tell people in various support groups in the net there's no epidemic I Thailand so their loved ones looking for loved ones are safe.

I wallow in the inert, heavy lead-greyness of dreamless exhaustion.

04.01.2005.

I think they know how much my leg and back hurts. Everyone is pampering me. Bringing me coffee, food, water; asking if I need anything. Or it is the wrist support on my right hand and the long, nasty, visible scar on my right leg? Maybe it's just that I am old. Nice to be around considerate people.

We laugh again. Perhaps the pendulum has swung back. Perhaps we just are too tired not to titter.

Ilya wheedled extra leave from his boss in Bangkok, so he's back. We need his person and his brains.

There's less and less politicians, less and less helicopter dust. The disaster now is a regular background feature, a screensaver we all know is there but do no longer see. It no longer gives glorious prime-time minutes to political hacks, so they dance and juggle somewhere else, on brighter lime-light. There's additional bonus; they do not need to see the suffering people. Those of sun-darkened skin and inelegant apparel.

Here, there's only the inglorious grunt work.

A delightful little boy stumbles and starts to cry. I pick him up and console him. What a wonderful feeling!

Let there be little children and dogs!

Ilya, Pat, Joe and I go to get plastered. Bangla road is in full swing, the rock pays so hard you feel in more as a pain in the ears than music. I think we need this. I haven't been this drunk in 20 years. My back does not hurt now. Leg does.


O5.01.05

My telephone finally dies on me, the shoulder strap on my computer backpack parts and I must get a break job done on the car. We use my car as a staff car whenever anyone of us various volunteer groups needs a car. The breaks must be fixed. Several good reasons to goof off today.

The hotel cleaning lady knows I am raving mad. She can not understand why I insist on borrowing the vacuum cleaner and vacuuming the laptop. There's no more helicopter dust on crazy farang's keyboard.

Thank you Hewlett-Packard for putting out a really, really good laptop. This old beastie has never let me down.

I get the breaks done. The car does not pull to the side when breaking and the squeal is gone. Dogs hate me no more.

The new used phone, backpack and break job sets me back another 3000 baht. I should not have blown several hundred baht on beer.
There'll be another twenty years before I am that drunk again. Mercifully I'll be dead by then.

I read myself to sleep.



06.01.2005.

It definitely is winding down. Many of the things, matters and most areas are declared out of bounds for all volunteers. A couple of weeks after the disaster the ponderous bureaucracies have finally arrived and are now pushing out those dedicated, unpaid, unwashed and now unwanted. The ones who have done the hard part. Now starts the time of eight-hour, five-day week with perdiem, hardship posting compensations, expense accounts, white SUVs and regular consorting with the upper echelon of the local society. Living in villas rented for the purpose, with often repeated visits by the officers of the Authority Concerned. Yes, with their spouses and much time set aside for inspecting the retail business recovery in Bangkok shopping heavens. Also inspected shall be those beaches not having suffered any damage.

Wise and compassionate interviews are given. Compassion is shown. Much TV time is given to those magnificent people in their spotless khakis.

And we, the grunts, we have faded back to the wood-work.

To-morrow I'll saddle up, come around the Phuket City Hall, visit several various points to see if there is any sensible work left for me and perhaps fade back to obscurity.

Good thing, too. I was running out of funds anyway. This charity and volunteer work does not come cheap. So perhaps it is better to leave with those big shots who can afford it.


08.01.2005 Khao Lak

No more volunteer work here, either. On all hotels still standing, the ransacking of the dead and disappeared tourists' belonging goes on. No police, no guards but several laughing looters rummaging through suitcases, handbags, drawers. Jokingly trying on dead womens' intimate apparel.

Lucky thing I wasn't packing. There'd been more casualties of the aftermath of the tsunami.

Perhaps it's just as well; why guard anything that was looted before any official rescue work started.

Fuck it all!

bypasser@gmail.com