Tremor in Asian Seas

On Christmas day we took a walk south of the lighthouse to the small fishing village named Vizhinjam. The villagers are mainly poor fisherfolk that depend on the sea to eek out their meager living. They live in plain huts made from woven palm fronds that sit at the waters edge. The Christmas celebration was in full swing on the southern side of the bay. Teenagers blasted music from large speakers, boys played soccer on the beach, and women greeting us with big smiles. They were relaxed and happy, enjoying the fine weather and the holiday celebration. The following day, however, the celebration turned to terror when wave after wave hit the shore, pulling everything in its' path out into the sea. The village was destroyed in a matter of minutes.

At the same time this tiny fishing village was being torn apart, we sat unaware of the danger high up on the second floor of the German Bakery on Kovalam Beach, a mere 2 to 3 kilometers north of Vizhinjam. We watched as people settled in for a day at the beach, renting chaise lounges and parasols on the shore, eating fresh fruit salad, or riding waves in the morning surf. Suddenly, we saw the waves stretch unusually far toward shore, surprising the people lounging on the beach when waves reached their blankets and scattered their sandals in the receding water. Still, the waves were never tall; instead they just kept coming farther and farther up the beach. The view was almost comical, and we found ourselves laughing as people chased down their sandals and bags before they lost them to the sea.

We kept watching the waves as we ate breakfast. The tide came up awfully close to the row of establishments along the beach, and then receded about 50 meters back after a few minutes. As this cycle continued, we discussed what might be causing the strange behavior, perhaps the full moon, or, I suggested, perhaps an earthquake. We had no idea how accurate this statement would turn out to be.

The strange phenomenon continued all morning long. The lifeguards kept watch, but didn't seem alarmed. People continued to enjoy sun bathing on the shore and swimming in the clear blue waters. In fact, the sea seemed even calmer than the day before, so Lyn decided to take a morning swim. She swam for 20 minutes, and while the current was strong, it didn't seem as strong as on the first few days after we arrived. Still, she was cautious of the oceans immense power and came out to rest on shore. As the waves had receded she choose a spot high on the beach to lay her sarong. She sat down and became engrossed in her book when suddenly the waves had advanced up the shore again, and she quickly scrambled to pick up her things before they were soaked. A cruel joke, she thought, as she and I had earlier sat watching and giggling as others had the same experience.

The locals are used to having high tides during the monsoon season, but even they said that this was something unusual at this time of year. Around 1pm, we went to lunch and choose a restaurant along the beachfront. Clearly something was wrong, as we saw fishermen running from the direction of the southern village as quickly as they could to check on their boats left on Kovalam. Several teams of men were hauling their boats to higher ground. The tides would wash far up the beach, and then recede even farther back into the sea. The distance between each tidemark to the next became increasing bigger. After eating we decided to walk north to the next beach, along the sidewalk lined with businesses. It was then that we overheard one shopkeeper say that there was an earthquake and that several people in Chenni had been killed. So, something major did happen, but we still didn't have any idea of what was going on with the ocean here. By this time, the lifeguards had pulled everyone from the water and were standing guard to keep people from entering it.

The first official news came when we caught sight of the BBC on TV where we heard that a giant tsunami hit the coast of Sri Lanka and Chennai. The first estimates were that 1,000 people were dead. It wasn't until several days later that we learned the full magnitude of the devastation. On December 26, the earth shook with an unbelievable amount of energy, 300 times more than that of quake in Kobe Japan, and aftershocks has been continuing ever since.

Miraculously there wasn't much damage on Kovalam Beach itself. We were concerned about our friends on Ko Lanta in Thailand (who, thankfully, have survived) and wondered how bad things were in Chennai, as we were considering ending our India adventure in that coastal city. As each day passes the number of victims and the scale of damage to Asian coastlines continues to multiply. We are constantly reminded of how incredibly lucky we are to be still here, and how rather odd it was that Kovalam was spared, while the beaches north and south were not.

We are currently staying in Kochi, north of Kovalam along the coast. This is an island town, connected to the mainland by a set of bridges. There was minor damage here as well. When we arrived on the 28th ferries were not operating and fishing boats did not dare to go out to sea.

Since we arrived, there have been some concerts and dance recitals organized to benefit the victims. The community seems ready to muster the enormous effort required to stage relief work, and many are taking matters into their own hands, collecting donations for basic necessities lost in the oceans fury. The most basic needs are for clothing, shoes, cookware and cooking stoves. We are hearing from locals that the government and religious organizations are slow to help because the donated money gets bogged down in endless politics. It's our hope that advanced nations will mobilize their relief efforts quickly and focus their attention on this humanitarian emergency. If you would like to help, please send money through a trusted organization like the Red Cross or other NGO's that you may be in contact with.

We continue to feel very lucky and blessed to have escaped this tragedy unscathed. Our hearts and prayers go out to all of those who lost friends and loved ones in this horrible disaster.