A village near the coast of Sumatra on Jan. 2, 2005 – By U.S. Navy Photographer's Mate 2nd Class Philip A. McDaniel (Public Domain)
When major natural catastrophes occur, the oft forgotten victims are the children. This is understandable, from a practical point of view. Children are rarely known outside of their families or communities. They have not yet had the chance to do anything that makes its way into the news or the internet. In many places, their very existence does not become recorded in official documents for some time after their birth. Outside of close-knit circles, they are largely invisible.
Death tolls from huge events tend to overshadow the plight of the survivors, generally. Sure, there will be reporting for a while about the destruction, the cost of subsequent rebuilding, and the efforts of volunteers. But, the modern public has been conditioned to move on from old stories quickly. To illustrate, how often does one see a story about the ravages of disease, dirty water, or starvation six months or a year later?
Imagine, then, the plight of the children who survived an event that took as many as a quarter million lives—the Sumatra–Andaman Tsunami of 2004. Most of those children lived in a world the West knew or cared little about. Researching their outcome proved the point—it was quite difficult to learn anything about them. Difficult, but not wholly impossible.
The Sumatra–Andaman Tsunami
At 07:58:53 local time on December 26, 2004, an earthquake of magnitude 9.3 on the moment magnitude scale shook the Indian Ocean near the coast of Aceh in northern Indonesia. It caused the largest seismic fracture ever observed—about 1,200 km to 1,300 km long (720 mi and 780 mi), between the Burma and Indian tectonic plates. The rift generated a massive tsunami that screamed across the region, killing people in Asian and African communities surrounding the Indian Ocean as well as many visitors from all over the world—nearly 230,000 in total. According to Kenji Satake, a Japanese seismologist, it was the most destructive tsunami in recorded history.
Like many people, I caught news of the event while celebrating Christmas. It was about eight in the evening in the eastern standard time zone when the quake struck. At the time of reporting, few could know the level of devastation that would result; it was only the beginning of a long, terrible time. It took hours for the catastrophic wave to reach many shorelines, but despite its extensive travel it packed enormous power on arrival.
Animation of the wave effect, by Vasily V. Titov, Chief Scientist, NOAA Center for Tsunami Research (Public Domain)
A quarter million people gone
Although the United Nations’ Office of the Tsunami Special Envoy put the official death toll at 229,866, there is reason to believe that many more people died as a result of the event. For one thing, many localities lacked sophisticated counts of the resident populations before the disaster.
Death estimates in those places were based on reporting by villagers, but some areas had no one remaining to provide information. In the Andaman and Nicobar islands, for example, nearly 12% of the population was lost, with some localities having few or no survivors. Malinggei island, for instance, had just four shacks left standing where a depressingly small number of people huddled in hope of rescue. Those individuals did not know how many people were killed or missing. Many small islands endured similar situations.
Survivors of the event itself faced considerable obstacles afterward, some that may have contributed to further deaths. One study that focused on earthquakes and tsunamis affecting Japan noted:
The long-term mortality risk of natural disasters is a key threat to disaster resilience improvement, yet an authoritative certification and a reliable surveillance system are, unfortunately, yet to be established in many countries.
A very large swath of the 2004 tsunami’s destructive zone comprised places that lacked post-disaster mortality surveillance. It is well-documented that vast numbers of people faced water shortages and rampant disease in the months following. Violence over resources also became a problem. Assuredly, these issues contributed to more fatalities, but no one has been able to accurately account for them at a broad scale.
Refugee children try to catch relief goods tossed from an Australian military helicopter in a rice paddy in Lampaya, outside of Banda Aceh, Indonesia. (AP Photo/Eugene Hoshiko, File; Jan. 17, 2005)
Death also affected the living… especially children
In Aceh alone, 5,270 kids became orphans from the earthquake and tsunami. One study determined that 63% of these children suffered moderate to severe PTSD. It found that the effects lingered, and in many cases worsened, in the five years following the event. That only about two-thirds exhibited such symptoms may, in itself, be a small miracle. The conditions that so many children faced were appalling.
Lynn Stanier, a travel agent who volunteered to assist with recovery, described her tenure at an orphanage in Galle, Sri Lanka:
We were taken to an orphanage in Galle – one of the main cities – and it shocked us to our core. In the crumbling old building, there was a strong stench of urine and no running water or electricity. There were babies and small children everywhere; four or five to a cot, lying in filth and screaming to be fed. Terrified toddlers cried with arms up high, but there was nobody there to comfort them.
Another helper—Peter Baines, a police forensic specialist from Australia—initially traveled to Thailand to help identify bodies from the quake. His unit went there as part of an international aid effort. The tragedy he witnessed among parent-less children led him to open his charity called, Hands Across the Water. Of the approximately 3,000 children listed as possible orphans where he worked, his organization was able to reunite 390 of them with their families.
Children who lacked the protection of families became ripe targets for the most malicious humans—child traffickers. In Aceh, especially, where fatalities were prolific, concerns about trafficking became serious. To combat this potential scourge, UNICEF worked to establish safe-havens and to reopen schools as quickly as possible. Later analysis indicated that trafficking did not become widespread, perhaps because of UNICEF’s work and the difficulty of moving around to evade law enforcement. Still, many children spent months or even years in wards run by NGOs or the state, hoping to find their families.
As many of the affected children grew up in impoverished nations with poor record-keeping, little is known what became of them. The stories of a few, however, are out there.
Refugees wait for their children who are inside a classroom at Guegajah Elementary School in Aceh Besar. (AP Photo/Eugene Hoshiko, File; January 10, 2005)
The individuals
One famous survivor became known as ‘Baby 81.’ Jayarasa Abilash was just two months old when he was swept away by the wave in Sri Lanka. The numeric ‘81’ suggests how many lone children rescuers recovered. Abilash’s case was a roller coaster following his rescue. Nine families believed he belonged to them, putting his future in limbo for quite a while. To settle the matter, the infant lingered in an orphanage for the months it took to take and test DNA samples. Eventually, this identified his true family.
When he grew up, Abilash told Mathrubhumi News about his ordeal as a famous survivor. He described how his schoolmates teased him, calling him ‘Baby 81’ or ‘tsunami baby’ to his face. The government denied his family aid, claiming that Abilash’s fame would lead to him receiving aid from elsewhere. His neighbors felt jealous and harassed his family so much that they were forced to move.
Now, at 20-years-old, Abilash is striving to get into college. He claims he has finally worked through the mental challenges of his troubling youth, but admits it took him a long time.
* * *
In one area of Sumatra, a man named only Adi, searched for children who had lost their families. He told the Guardian, “We had heard rumours that a lot of children might have survived in Bubun, but without their parents, so we thought we should go and have a look.” Adi discovered six of them. He brought them back to his home village, where the children were paired off to live with Adi and his relatives. The eldest of the children, Rahmat, said this about Adi’s assistance:
The house is small and crowded but it is our new home. I am happy here. It is better than being in the [refugee] camp. Anyway, we don't have any choice. We are lucky still to have family who want to help us.
What became of these six children after 2005 is not known.
* * *
Intan Afriaty was nine when the tsunami struck. She was home with her mother, aunt, older sister, and older brother. Moments after the earth shook beneath her feet, neighbors came running, shouting that “big water” was coming. Afriaty’s family members fled with the others, but quickly became separated. She did not escape the deluge that ultimately rendered her unconscious. She stated:
When I came to, I found myself in the middle of the water, holding onto the body of a tsunami victim that was drifting with me. I was terrified, but the only thing on my mind was keeping my head above water. I had to survive.
Rescuers pulled her from the waters and took her to a UNICEF safe-haven. While she lost most of her family, UNICEF did reunite her with her mother about a month later. Today, she is a married mother of two and the couple is expecting their third child.
Afriaty with her husband and two children. Credit: UNICEF
What you can do
Regular people—i.e., those who do not work in the fields of disaster preparedness or response—often feel that there is little they can do other than to provide financial or other support once a calamity happens. This is decidedly untrue. As I learned through my own nonprofit efforts, much heartbreak can be mitigated by establishing sound strategies and infrastructure ahead of time.
While we cannot know what kind of incident will happen and where, the world is sufficiently interconnected that specialist organizations can headquarter almost anywhere. Location is not the issue—funding and manpower are. Most governments provide limited to no support to organizations until they are needed. By then, it is too late. With funding so restricted and hard to come by in sufficient amounts, NGOs depend upon the generosity of people to donate their time or money.
If you are moved by a certain function—whether taking care of children, ensuring stricken communities have clean water or medicine, or anything else—you can help now by finding groups who work in these fields and contributing to them. If you do not have the finances to make a monetary donation, a great many NGOs can use help with various tasks. Examples include website design or hosting, fundraising, bolstering social media, and so forth.
Find organizations that do the kind of work that interests you, then do some research to confirm their authenticity. In many countries, NGOs are required to register and make available their official documents. Some states in the USA keep databases of registered charities or nonprofits. Websites like Charity Navigator rate the efficacy of your financial donations based on a number of metrics. You can also search for news stories or other reporting that mentions them. Send a direct email inquiry for more information. Ask family, friends, or colleagues for references or advice.
Humanitarian work is, sadly, not a priority in our consumer-driven culture. That is, not until people face the chaos and depredation that comes with disaster. But each of us individually can play a role in changing that mindset by applying our financial means or skills where they are so badly needed. And, if my experience is any indicator, doing so can lead to some profound friendships and really interesting ways to spend your time.
See you Wednesday.
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I am the executive director of the EALS Global Foundation. You can find me at the Evidence Files Medium page for essays on law, politics, and history; follow the Evidence Files Facebook for regular updates, or Buy me A Coffee if you wish to support my work.