Koh Lanta vs. The Tsunami

The devastation is hard to describe. We saw the footage on the news just like everybody else, but seeing it in 360 degree reality is completely overwhelming because it's inescapable. You can't change the channel, and everywhere you look is a reminder that this thing actually happened to people and it won't just go away with the push of a button.

As you walk along the beach you see things strewn here and there. We passed old, cracked sunglasses, worn-out flip-flops, sun bleached hats, broken CDs, and even a rusty soup ladle. With each one you can't help but think to yourself, "I wonder if the owner of this stuff made it to safety in time."

We also walked by a group of Thai kids playing pool on a pool table that seemed to have been dumped in the middle of a clearing. Only when we walked up to them did we realize that the building around the table had been completely demolished by the waves.

Over the course of a few short minutes, Koh Lanta had gone from being a tropical paradise in my mind to an almost incomprehensible disaster area in reality. I suddenly had the same feeling in the pit of my stomach that I did during my entire stay in Cambodia and during each visit I made to Ground Zero in New York City. It's a combination of loss and sadness that's similar to despair, but with a thin residue of hope that maybe someday things can get back to the way they were before the life-altering tragedy took place.

Over the next two days I walked along the beach and remained in a state of awe. Not only at the amount of damage, but also at the resilience of the people who were doing their best to rebuild their shattered lives. To wake up every day and face the wreckage must take an awful lot of courage.

Eventually, I got to talking with Tong, the happy-go-lucky motorbike driver/manager of Family Bungalows who had picked us up the other day. I asked him what it was like before the tsunami came.

"Oh," he said, "Everything very good! Many people stay here. Christmas, New Year, always full! No bungalows empty! Everybody laughing, laughing, playing volleyball, drinking. Everybody happy."

He pointed over to his right at a blown out shell of a building. All that remained was one wall and a concrete foundation. "Used to be internet cafe," he said, " have five computer. Also have mini-mart and Thai massage school."

He looked at me and shook his head. "Now look. Everything gone. Tsunami come, tourists leave go home. No tourists, no money to fix. That's why we rent bungalow for so cheap. We hope maybe people come stay and maybe eat one or two meals here to make money."

Both of us knew how that was panning out. I'd seen people take off every night to go eat and drink in the bar down the beach that was lucky enough to have salvaged a stereo.

"But nobody eat here," Tong continued, "I don't blame them, I not mad - people like to have music to listen to. But I think maybe take long time to get money to buy stereo and make people want to stay here again."

By this point, he was on a roll. I got the impression that not too many tourists took a genuine interest in the tsunami's effect beyond the normal witness-the-awesome-power-of-mother-nature type stuff.

"And the government no give help. I see on BBC News that countries give Thailand billions of baht. Australia, America, England all giving money, but nobody on Koh Lanta getting money because here tsunami not bad as Koh Phi-Phi. Not even one baht. The government is giving all the money to Phuket, Koh Phi-Phi. But all Koh Lanta need is a little bit! I just need maybe 10,000 baht for stereo and then I make enough to fix everything again."

I was stunned. Ten thousand baht is 250 US dollars. I couldn't imagine that the government was holding out on people who needed such a small amount of money when it would make such an enormous difference.

Tong also went on to explain that in a classic maneuver, the insurance companies are refusing to cover tsunami damage because it's an Act of God. It would have been better for Family Bungalows if it had just burnt down to the ground.

Sometimes it's hard to know the right thing to do. We've all been in situations where we have to think long and hard about what's right and wrong, but this was not one of those situations. It was immediately obvious to both Fiona and I that all signs were pointing in one direction. Despite his easygoing Thai exterior, Tong and his family desperately needed help, and we were in a position to help him.

We went back to our bungalow to check our finances just to be sure, and we decided to sleep on it before saying anything to Tong. Of course, when we woke up the next morning our minds had not changed. After breakfast I pulled Tong aside and told him that Fiona and I had talked about it and we had decided to give him 10,000 baht.

When I told him, I made it clear that we couldn't afford to give 10,000 baht plus the room plus food plus whatever else. I said that the 10,000 baht would have to cover everything, but we wanted him to have a stereo and we were happy to help him get one.

His reaction caught me completely off guard. The momentary look of excitement that flashed across his face was immediately replaced with one of concern.
"I am afraid you not be able to afford it," he said, "This too much money. I like you want to help, but this too much money."
I had no idea what to say to that. This guy had literally lost everything, and he was afraid to take our money out of concern for our financial well-being. And, let's be honest, $250 is really not all that much to Westerners.
"Tong," I said, "We are very careful about our money. We know how much we have. I promise you we can afford to give you money. We want you to have a stereo."
"OK," he replied slowly and calmly, "If you think you can do it then it would be very good. You help me very much."
And that was that. The next day he took me into town and I withdrew 10,000 baht from an ATM and handed it over to him. He accepted it with a quick bow, a big smile, and a very polite and measured "Thank you very much."
In two days we'll go buy the stereo and hook it up. Then we'll have a party and get drunk listening to music on the beach under the light of a full moon. And maybe a few people will come and join us and buy drinks and food from Tong. And hopefully that will be one more step away from disaster and towards renewal for Tong, his family, and the families of the seven people who work at Family Bungalows.

Believe it or not, the purpose of this email is not to tell you what a great and generous man I am. You already knew that. What I'd like to do is extend this opportunity to help to all of you. If you watched the coverage of the tsunami and thought to yourself "My God, that's horrible. I wish I could help but I don't know what to do." Or "I would love to give money to some charity, but where will it actually go?" Then here's your chance. In a few days, Tong will have his stereo, but the bar still needs lights and cushions and board games and all the other things that will make it a place people will want to hang out. This may sound like cheap and insignificant stuff to us, but here they are necessary items that will ensure the survival of Family Bungalows.

Those of you who have been to Thailand know that things here are insanely cheap. Even with Bushonomics driving the dollar down on a daily basis, a little US money goes a long way here. Ten or twenty dollars is a good chunk of change in this country, so even a small donation will make a tremendous difference.

Of course, there's no pressure to give anything at all, but I can personally guarantee that not only will every single dollar help enormously, but also that 100 percent of it will go directly to a family that will appreciate it in a way that hopefully none of us will ever truly understand.

So here's how it'll work. If you'd like to help, you can either click the button below and donate online using PayPal (this is the best option for those not dealing in US dollars):

Or you can mail a check to my parents' house in Connecticut (email me for the address). Then, and this is the most important part of the whole thing, you have to email me and tell me how much you're donating. That way I'll be able to tally up the total amount, withdraw it from my bank account, and go to the market with Tong when I leave the island in four days.

Obviously, I can't give you receipts or any of that stuff. I don't know if it's tax-deductible and I don't care. But I promise you that every cent will go directly to Tong and Family Bungalows.

Posted by flow Frazao on April 22, 2005 at 08:21 AM in Southeast Asia | Permalink