My first day in Nagapattinam

Dawn was breaking as my train approached Nagapattinam train station. I couldn’t believe that I was few minutes away from Nagapattinam (Nagai in short) and I was going to do Aid work for Tsunami. Nagai is a small fishing Hamlet on the shore line of Bay of Bengal where I was born in. When I heard that Nagai was hard hit by Tsunami I couldn’t just donate some money to a NGO and sit in my comfortable home in Toronto and watch what unfolds on television. I couldn’t comprehend that nearly 6200 people have died, close to 2000 boats have been destroyed in Nagai District and the fishing has come to a halt. I had to see Nagai.

Nagapattinam is an example of how a small town with three major religions can live side by side without problems. As a child waking up to “Call to Prayer” coming from a nearby Mosque was a daily routine. During the months of December and January all religious institutions would compete and play devotional songs over the town’s loud speaker. One corner Christmas choir coming from a church where I went to kindergarten; another corner harvest celebration (Pongal) for the Tamil months of Margazi-Thai music coming from a Shiva Temple and lastly special Koran readings for Ramadan from a nearby Morzapali Mosque.

Just to savour and re-live my precious old memories I would plan my visits to India during December or January months.

My favourite hobby during my holiday would include watching the fish being unloaded from the boats from the Nagai harbour called Akkarapetti. I remember fondly when I went to Akkarapetti last February with my mother and two years ago with my cousin Kavitha. Hundreds of boats would go out at night and return the next morning where all the fisherwomen and children would wait with their baskets and the whole-sale merchants with their ice packed crates. Bright Indian flag flying high on these small but strong wooden boats would come from the sea and pull into a backwater area where they unloaded the boats. There would be a buzz in the air and urgency in the harbour. Everyone one would rush to the boats and the bounty will be unloaded manually by hands by young fishermen.

Many large piles of shrimps, large prawns, yellow fin tunas, blue crabs, cuddle fishes, sting rays, sharks, various kinds of fishes and shell fishes including conch would be scattered on the main ground. Some items would be quickly auctioned and passed to the vendors for re-sale before reaching the consumer. Sadly some items will never see a Nagai home and quickly exported to foreign countries. What is left will be sent to the local fish markets. For hours I would watch in wonderment and ask questions and take notes with my camera.

My Toronto home is filled these pictures from my various visits. Do I take comfort that I have these memories and pictures?

My brief sighting of the harbour at the dawn of the day when I returned to Nagai sat on my stomach like a heavy rock. What I saw on TV and newspapers didn’t prepare me for this reality. Boats tossed into the main streets like piles of rubble. Some boats were thrown and twisted around buildings and electrical posts were they all lay dead. The gentle giants have been slayed and lost in the war. A battle scene that I was not prepared to see only confirmed the horror and the destruction of Tsunami.

Our family driver Bashir said “I am glad you weren’t here on the Dec 26th you would be very upset because I’ve taken you to Akkarapetti many times but I am glad you are here now”. He gave me courage and took me to my uncle’s place where I am stationed.

During breakfast my uncle and cousins paint a sad story of the fateful Sunday December 26th when they had to decide if they had to flee the town or not when the water came close to their home only ½ km away from the sea. I felt pain and anxiety took over me and all the strength and confidence that was given to me had vanished. I was not sure if I could face Akkarapetti in minutes to come.

As the car pulled closer to the harbour I saw traces of destruction and the wrath of Tsunami. No words could describe what I saw the in the ill-fated morning. Akkarapetti no longer exists. There was no buzz but only sadness and grief filled the air.

As I passed the main bridge where I used to watch the sunrise was littered with boat debris. Boats smashed against the bridge like match sticks and the under pass clogged with many boats pushed by the force of the mighty wave. A boat named “Mariyaman”, named after the Nagai goddess Kali couldn’t survive the killer waves. I couldn’t believe the annihilation of my beloved fishing Hamlet. Boats tossed like piles of waste, steel rods bent and twisted like rubber, fishing nets tangled, torn and hung on whatever it could and finally torn clothing and shoes abandoned where it lost its owners. Each piece tells a sad story.

Local fishermen were desperately trying to pull the jammed boats back into the harbour so the salvage operation could start. But news breaks each day when they discover a body buried under the rubble.

I walked over to the area where they used to have piles of fishes and now it’s the new home of many buried under. A large tree planting project has started with the names of the lost ones just few feet away where it used to host the prawn auctions.

Beach littered with carcasses of destroyed boats and an old woman mourning and beating her chest nearby haunts me. I asked the old woman what she was doing. Ranganayagi said that she was performing “Karumathi” (death ceremony after one month) for her daughter-in-law Papamal and her grand daughters Thilagesvari and Paramesvari. Banana leaf filled with sweets, fruits and incense and death songs were offered to the perished at the same spot where her home stood once where now filled with only sand. She said she survived because she went to the vegetable market 2 km away but wishes to join her family in deep grief.

The old beach where I used to go when I was young with my sister and grandmother was littered with torn clothing, fishing nets and piles of wood and broken logs from catamarans and boats. Nothing exits but small traces of debris to remind the existence of a fishing village with hundreds of houses. I heard the beach was full of children and adults that morning. The beach is silent now.

My once favourite beach now cradled ashes from the mass burnings. The shoreline is filled with half burned lumbers and dusts of ashes everywhere. I heard that they didn’t have enough time to burry some of the bodies since they were decomposed so they burned them quickly as they found the bodies. I washed my feet in the water not to remove the ashes from my feet but to cleanse myself from attending a mass funeral. This is a Hindu tradition.

I walk passed the beach toward the train station and saw a large cargo boat lost its direction and ended on a concrete ground. A survivour told me that the waves rose as high as palm trees and pointed to a group of trees on the beach. The palm tree is nearly 30 metres high and the leaves are brown where the salt water waves climbed over. According to many that it took only two waves, the second more powerful than the first swept away what had taken many generations to build.

Indian flag still flies proudly on the broken boats. Some tainted with mud and some with blood reflect the terror of the fateful Sunday. They remain silent but flutter in the wind. The arena where the spectacle took place, where I stood in bewilderment seems so far away. Nagai will never be the same again.

Greetings from Chennai

It’s my third day in Mother India, and I still can’t seem to get a grip of what has taken place in Tamil Nadu. I am in Chennai, once known as Madras, the capital of Tamil Nadu. Since the day I left Toronto and landed at Chennai airport early morning of Thursday (Jan 19) I‘ve been talking to many strangers in the airports, in the planes about their reaction toward Tsunami and how it has changed or affected their lives.

Many people I came across got to know my reason for coming to India and gave me strength and their insight on how Relief and Rehabilitation should take place in Tamil Nadu, specifically for Nagapattinam, (Nagai). When I say “I am going to Nagapattinam” their jaw drops and they gently whisper if I am prepared to see what I am going to see. I am deeply touched the fact that they are all affected and they care.

This question has been on my thoughts the last few days. What will I see? Am I really prepared to see Nagai? I know that it will change me forever. I was in Nagai less than a year ago when I visited the beach and the fishing depot with my mother. My prized possession of Nagai’s shoreline pictures come to my mind. I have been shifting through them since the Tsunami and sharing it with my friends and neighbours. Now I will see the destruction of nature and what she has done to the hamlet of Nagai.

Chennai was also hit by Tsunami. The last couple of days I have been I working with Aid India-Chennai, the NGO that I have been in contact with doing field and media work. They are hard working and doing amazing rehabilitation work for various affected districts near Chennai. They are very happy that I can go to Nagai to do some work for them. Nagai seems to be “ground 0” for Tsunami and I feel like a whale rider waiting for my ride to take me in to the sea.

I have been moved by the share volume of volunteers pouring into Aid India-Chennai to help out. The same day that I arrived I met a young American named Adam who showed up all the way from Hawaii. He is a waiter at a restaurant and wanted to do relief work so he packed his pack and showed up after a 3 days of milk-run flights. His employer was kind enough to let him go for a month and also plans to donate a good sum to Aid India. He will work with Aid India to rebuild houses for the affected area of Chennai. He isn’t worried about where his next meals will come from or where he will sleep. Talk about dedication, I am really touched.

I’ve met many individuals who are dedicated and want to make changes in Tamil Nadu. But somehow I can’t seem to hide my feeling of anxiety of Nagapattinam. I haven’t slept well. I am fighting my jet lag (10.5 hrs time difference), heat exhaustion, coming from -30C of arctic Toronto to setting foot into humid +32C of Chennai and just the fact that I am in Chennai. It’s a paradox on its own. But it’s been nice to decompress in Chennai and basking on my mother’s home cooked south Indian traditional meals. She is also in India.

Chennai has given me great strength and courage to face Nagai. Tomorrow I will see the fury of Tsunami and what she has left behind.

See you from Mother India

Hello Everyone

I am leaving for India today. I just wanted to take a moment and say that you all have been incredibly supportive and extremely generous for Tsunami Relief for Nagapattinam. Through neighbours, friends and family, we have raised close to $4000 in a short week. It’s really amazing to see the power of kindness and I am so lucky to have you all as my friends, neighbours and family. The money will be put to good use in Nagapattinam as I will be working directly with some of the ongoing rehabilitation projects.

I will keep you updated with my blogs and also let you know the website that we are in the process of making which will feature pictures and articles from my field reports in Tamil Nadu.

See you all on the other side of Atlantic and from Mother India.

..Siva

Some of the projects

There are many aid agencies and NGO’s stationed in Nagapattinam. Many aid workers have been reporting the spread of disease and nearly half of the wells have been contaminated with salt water. There is a heavy loss of human lives and destruction of nearly 2000 boats where the fishing industry in Nagapattinam has come to a halt. Nagapattinam was the main hub of fishing industry for Tamil Nadu.

I plan to visit Nagapattinam January 19th with an aid agency called AID India, a grass roots organization active from USA since 1991, where they have many chapters all over the world. My task will be to document the survivors and write field and media reports.

I also plan to write several feature-length articles about the situation of Nagapattinam and Tamil Nadu. I have many angles to write including writing about what the fisherwomen are doing now since their husbands and children are dead and their homes and boats are destroyed. I would like to investigate what they plan to do next with two generations gone.

I also heard about a temporary orphanage setup up to house close to 3,000 children at a nearby village called Sikkal. I am planning to visit Sikkal and to investigate how the children are coping with the loss of their parents and the funding they are receiving.

My articles will feature interviews from local fishermen, aid workers and also quotes from NGO representatives for Nagapattinam and the local municipality leaders. Because I am fluent in Tamil and know many people in the Nagapattinam area I believe I can gain a unique insight into how the disaster has affected the people.

Nagapattinam, here I come!

I would say that Dec 26, 2004 will be remembered by millions of people around the world as one of the nature’s worst disasters.

I haven’t slept much the last two weeks and I have been trying to figure out what my part is in the Tsunami disaster. My home town Nagapattinam (Nagai) was worst hit, off the coast of Tamil Nadu State (South India). Nearly 6100 people have died.

Nagai used to be the fishing hub of Tamil Nadu and it’s decimated. I wonder what the fisherwomen will do. Their husbands and children are dead. Their house and boat is destroyed. I can’t just sit here and watch this happen in my town.

I ate their fish until I came to Canada. I sat on the beach every Sunday with my sister, grandmother and friends eating salted peanuts watching the waves until the moon rose and the bright yellow light turned on the light house. It was like a large giant, painted in black and white stripes with a red top. I would watch in wonderment.

My biggest thrill was to dig a hole behind all the elders and watch them fall behind. The high light of the evening would be to stand on the water until it came up to my knees. My grandmother would hold us tight and worry. But Mother Nature took good care of us. On our way home we would pay a short visit to the town’s biggest church. We would light a candle and say a small prayer. Even though I was brought up Hindu, my grand parents exposed us to all 3 religions that were predominate in Nagapattinam (Hindu, Muslim and Christian).

It’s sad to know Nagapattinam (Home of a large Shiva temple), Velankanni (home of a very famous Portuguese Basilica) and Nagore (home a famous masque where the prophet Mohamed had once visited) were all hard hit by Tsunami. So Mother Nature didn’t play favorites.

Yesterday according to the Hindu national news paper of India, Nagapattinam district’s death roll has risen to 6,035 (1,875 men, 2,400 women and 1,760 children). The whole fishing industry has been decimated. My little town and all villages nearby are in serious trouble. How will they rebuild and survive? Their houses or huts are gone. Their fishing boats are destroyed. Women have lost their husbands and children. Many children have lots their parents. Two generations of fishing industry is wiped out.

I also heard about a temporary orphanage setup up to house close to 3,000 children at a nearby village called Sikkal. The children are asking for their parents and crying at night.

I can’t get these pictures out of my head. Looking at the pictures of Ackarapatti (the fishing village of Nagapattinam) taken last year with my mother seems so far away. It will never be like that again.

What can I do? How can I help?

After going back and forth I have decided to go to Tamil Nadu, to be specific to Nagapattiam.

I have hooked up with an aid agency called AID India. They are doing great work. I have been corresponding with them and seems like they can put my skills to good work. I will be doing Media and Documentation work. I will be documenting the village with digital camera and writing reports for AID India and other media outlets.

Finally I feel at peace. Seems like the right thing to do. What little I can do is going to help so many people. I am happy that I can make the difference.

The beauty and innocence of Nagai is gone, what is left are people in need of great help. As humans we have moral obligations to do the right thing. To me, my decision feels good inside. Nagapattinam, here I come.

How can I comprehend this?

I get up each day thinking what I can do for my home town Nagapattinam a small seaport town in Tamil Nadu India that was worst struck by Tsunami. We have donated money to NGOs but this is not enough. I have contacted two Aid Agencies asking if I can do more but I havent heard anything. The frustration of waiting kills me.

I talked to my uncles today in Nagai (Nagapattinam). They are still finding bodies. It has been 11 days. I also get conflicting stories about how much the government is helping. I need to find the truth.