We returned from our Christmas break and were shocked to hear about the extent of the devastation of the tsunami. Instead of going to Goa for a few days of rest, we felt compelled to help. We cancelled our plans for Goa and found an organisation that could use our services.

Community Health Cell, a local NGO, and ActionAid, an International NGO, were sending a team of young doctors to the Tamil Nadu coast and were willing include us. We were briefed on what to expect and what our primary focus should be. Those sessions turned out to be very helpful. On the coast, we found that medical needs had been met and the greatest need was to organise communities and help them think ahead. We were required to be generalists, ready to do anything, rather than specialists. Some of the doctors found it difficult, but others made the switch and pitched in to do what they could. After an initial survey of six villages, we decided to focus on two. A few members of the team continued the survey and identified a third village the next day.

We personally worked in a village called Madivaimedu, in North Nagapattinam district. We walked around, listening to people who were willing to talk to us. Most of the stories we heard were tragic, but there were some of miraculous escapes. Here we share two of the tragic ones:

We found one woman, Vijaya, sitting outside what used to be her house, facing the village temple and shouting at her god. She was demanding to know why he had taken Nivas, her older son, aged seven; complaining that the difficult pregnancy and birth had been in vain. She told us that Nivas had seen the water rising, and shouted to her. As she grabbed him and his little brother, they were swept away. Tossed about, she lost hold of Divas aged two, and shouted to another man to grab him. She and Nivas were then thrown into a canal, where he was caught in some debris. She tried to reach him, but was swept away, with his screams ringing in her ears. When the wave subsided, she found Divas was all right and Nivas was dead. She now tells her gods and the sea that she would have given them anything they wanted, if only they had spared her son!

Shanti and Swaminathan had four children, a girl aged five, a boy of three, and twins aged one year. Swaminathan was on the beach, having just returned from the sea, when the sea boiled over. He was swept away towards a grove of casuarina trees and couldn't go to the rescue of his family. Shanti was in her house, which stands a hundred metres from the waterline. When the water came, she grabbed their four children and they were all swept away. The water didn't flow like a normal wave but seemed to boil furiously. Tossed about, she couldn't hold on and watched helplessly as her children slipped away screaming, one after another. She herself was caught in the casuarina grove, battered and bruised, but alive. Now she sits in shock, huddled in a shawl, not speaking, barely eating, eyes staring vacantly ahead. She has undergone a tubectomy and is afraid that she will not have children again. Barely twenty-five years old, she lives with little to look forward to. Her husband lives with the guilt that he could not reach them, she that she could not hold on.

We were impressed by the efficiency of the Tamil Nadu government and the speed at which material relief was provided. Most of the camps where people lived temporarily were running efficiently. People were immediately provided with bedding, food and clean drinking water. This was followed by stoves, cooking utensils, dry rations, clothes and water pots.

The relief has brought with it a new problem—plastic waste. Water is supplied in 250ml plastic packs, many goods come wrapped in plastic, and some of the goods are made of plastic. This has meant that the villages are littered with waste. Clearing it is not a priority and traditionally these folk burn all their solid waste, including plastic. We spent two days clearing plastic and putting out fires that were spewing acrid smoke.

Parents report that children show signs of trauma, especially disturbed sleep and nightmares. Men are in "survival mode" and don't show their emotions, but the women weep and panic easily. Every so often, there is an alarm that the water is rising and all the people dash from their houses, without a backward glance at the sea. Some men have shared that they are now afraid of the sea, but they know no other trade and will be forced to return to it for a living. Generally the seaside communities are fishing communities, but among them are those not directly involved with fishing, but are dependent on the fishing trade for their livelihood. These people are not often heard or taken into account because they are a minority and do not hold positions of power in the village. Such people are in danger of being marginalised even further because of the tragedy.

We were warned that we would see the best and worst of human nature in the midst of disaster and we found it to be true. When the tsunami hit, most people fled their houses in fear, but some returned a few hours or a day later, only to find that their houses had been looted—suitcases and cupboards broken open and valuables looted. There are others who also capitalise on the tragedy. In one village, the man who made out the lists added about six fictitious names with the hope of getting extra compensation. Perhaps as a sort of reaction to losing everything, or from sheer greed, some people grab more than their fair share of relief aid, and others are left with nothing.

The immediate needs are those of temporary housing and short-term income generation. Boats and nets may take six to twelve months to replace. Meanwhile no ready means income exists. Moreover, as long as the fishing community has no income, those whose livelihoods depend on the fishing industry will also suffer. However, the communities themselves must determine their future. Some say they would like their hamlets moved further inland, others want a protective sea wall, and others want an early-warning system in place.

The whole tragedy raised some theological questions and struggles in our mind and perhaps in the minds of those who were hit by the tragedy. Perhaps they are asking questions of their gods and perhaps they are ready for the love of Jesus to be poured into their hearts, but it will require discretion. As the only Christians in the group, and having some fundamentalist Hindus with us, it was difficult to speak of Jesus or pray for people openly, but we do hope we conveyed the love of Jesus in some way to those we spoke to. Perhaps if we had been with a Christian group we may have been free to provide more spiritual solace. When we were about to leave, we realised that we had connected with some of the villagers who said they were sorry to see us go and others who wanted us to take them with us. Within the constraints of the group and in the time we had, we did what we could, and we pray that others will build on it.