Supporter: Julisa Tambunan

Here I am (second from right) with the Global Citizen Corps team during a visit to Maluku, Indonesia. Photo: Mercy Corps Indonesia

When I was young and all the kids in my class wanted to become a doctor or an engineer, I wanted to be a diplomat.

I remember when I was in the middle school, I read a featured story in a local newspaper about a bunch of students from all over the world visiting the UN Headquarters in New York. I memorized the different skin colors on the pictures that came with that story. I envied those kids. I wished I had gotten a chance to go abroad and meet my peer group from around the world.

Twenty years later, I still remember the closing line of that story: "Let the older generation fight with their weapons, we are the peacemakers who believe in diplomacy." And that's how I wanted to become a diplomat.

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In life there are few unexpected, sometimes unwanted, events that can drastically change your life forever. For me, one of them is being deployed to the tsunami-stricken Mentawai Islands as part of Mercy Corps’ Indonesia Response Team last month.

I went back home with Chikungunya, a viral disease that is spread by mosquitoes, but also with a growing love for the place and the people I met there. The Mentawai Islands are beautiful, more beautiful than any other place I’ve ever visited in my 30 years of life — and believe me, I’ve traveled a lot. The people were incredibly strong and hopeful and that has never ceased to amaze me.

Children I met during my time in Mentawai. The boy with the headscarf lost all of his family members except his father in the tsunami. The pretty little girl was found on the top of a mango tree a day after the tsunami hit and hasn't said a word since. Photo: Julisa Tambunan/Mercy Corps

Today, as I browsed through the images I took in the islands, I struck at this particular image. And a swirl of memories from that day just came back to me in an instant.

It’s a photograph I took in Eruk Paraboat, a subvillage in South Pagai Island, where everything was practically swept away by the 15-meter-high wave on that one unfortunate evening of October 25th. I met these kids running around in what was left of their village. Seeing me with my camera, they rushed to me and greeted me friendly in the local Mentawai language, to which I could only reply with “Anai leu ita?” or “How are you?”, one of the few local expressions I picked up when I was there.

I couldn’t speak Mentawainese, and they didn’t understand any word in Bahasa Indonesia. But I went along and played with them on that devastated ground, took a lot of pictures and showed them the results on the small display screen of my camera. They were enormously happy.

Later, I found out that the boy with the headscarf lost all of his family members except his father in the tsunami. The pretty little girl was found on the top of a mango tree a day after the tsunami hit. She hasn't been able to talk ever since. But there they were, being remarkably resilient and changing my life forever.

When it was time for me to leave and continue my journey, I said to them, “Ku oba ekeu.”

It’s Mentawainese for “I heart you.”

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Part of our emergency response team in Mentawai. I'm in the middle. Photo: Mercy Corps Indonesia

I have spent more than 10 days in the Mentawai Islands now as part of Mercy Corps’ emergency response team. Today is exactly two weeks after I left Jakarta. Everything at home almost seems surreal to me now. Mercy Corps is staying for a minimum of six months to conduct a recovery program in these tsunami-stricken islands.

Last weekend, we moved to a more appropriate place in Sikakap and set up a new “office” there. It’s a local village-style house, but the owner doesn’t live there anymore. A pretty, pretty place. It’s up on the hill with the view of the sea upfront. Everything is minimal, but that’s all we need.

Our team has grown into six people now. Each day, I come to a realization that I’m working alongside such amazing human beings. Under a lot of stress, we managed to laugh things off and keep the good spirit. “The biggest fear here is not the storm, it’s an invitation of endless coordination meetings!” one of us joked. For the last week, we've taken good care of each other — keeping one another strong, regardless of how helpless we often feel. These guys are unbreakable.

Immanuel Tegar, a three-week-old infant who was saved by the army in Munte Baru-baru, one of the most devastated villages. Photo: Julisa Tambunan/Mercy Corps

And that is exactly one of the most wonderful things I have learned while I’m here, how unbreakable human spirit is. I’m looking at a whole bunch of people who came all the way from many parts of Indonesia to help the survivors here. They are doctors, nurses, teachers, soldiers, college students and others with different expertise. Like us, these people are fighting the tropical cyclone and malaria threats daily to deliver assistance to the survivors. These people have restored my faith in humanity.

The other day, I went to an emergency hospital in Sikakap, where survivors who needed special treatments were flown here from their villages. This emergency hospital is actually a community church, used temporarily to treat the severely injured survivors.

I saw kids with bandages all over their faces who were laughing and playing with their toys. I saw Immanuel Tegar (roughly translated as “strong as rock”), a three-week-old infant who was saved by the army in Munte Baru-baru, one of the most devastated villages. His parents were found dead not long after. Immanuel himself was found in a gutter still alive and breathing, with only a scratch on his forehead. I thought about Harry Potter —the boy who lived.

Fourteen-year-old Liesda, who lost two sisters in the tsunami that wrecked her whole village of Sabeugunggung Photo: Julisa Tambunan/Mercy Corps

There, I also talked to a 14-year-old girl named Liesda, who lost two sisters in the tsunami that wrecked her whole village of Sabeugunggung. The disaster severely injured her right leg. When I asked her what would be the first thing to do if she could walk again, she said, “I want to wash my clothes, they are dirty. And I want to cook, I want to eat what I want to eat. And I’ll go back to school.” She showed no trace of despair, only hope.

These unbreakable people, along with unbreakable support from loved ones at home, are the things that keep me going and keep me strong — entering my third week here now.

I’ve been sneezing really badly all morning today. Could be an allergy, could be a symptom of flu, could be something worse. But on my Twitter account, I wrote: “I’m made of steel, no malaria can break me!”. Then I took antibiotics.

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Aid workers' tents and the Indonesian warship in Sikakap. Photo: Julisa Tambunan/Mercy Corps

Yesterday, I resolved to write only good news in my next blog post. You see, I’m the kind of person who’d like to believe that there’s always a slight of hope even in the worst disaster. Naïve. Because right now, I don’t really have any good news to write home about.

As I’m writing this now, I’m sending my thoughts and prayers to our team leader in this emergency response — Wawan Budianto — who had to head back to his hometown in Java tonight, because this afternoon he got a phone call from a relative telling him that his father passed away. Strange how the world works. While you’re helping other people to get through their hard times after a disaster, a personal disaster hits you. You can never predict the weather.

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Photo: Julisa Tambunan/Mercy Corps

Let me start with thanking everyone at home and elsewhere who has supported us by texts, emails or even comments on Facebook and Twitter. Those words of support are among the few things I could remember when we were at the sea this afternoon, trying to beat the crashing four-meter waves and stormy weather with our small, small boat.

Our team of four were sailing back to Mercy Corps’ base camp after distributing critical supplies to the tsunami survivors in the remote area of North Pagai, Mentawai Islands, where the most disaster-affected communities are located. It took us two hours by boat crossing the stormy Indian Ocean to get there from our base in Sikakap.

When we got back to our camp, all four of us soaking wet and hands are trembling from cold and fear, my phone beeped. The phone signal was alive again. It was a text from Erynn Carter, the West Sumatera Program Director, saying “Big big storm is coming. Confirm this to team — your lives are more important than distribution.” I was supposed to receive that in the morning, but a signal problem got in the way.

Delivering critical supplies to tsunami survivors. Photo: Julisa Tambunan/Mercy Corps

The problem of our emergency response this time lies at the tough geographical area and unfriendly weather —storms come and go. Relief goods are overloaded in Sikakap from the government and many organizations, yet distributions cannot get very far. Remote areas remain untouched, except some that have received assistance from the navy. Many ships that have tried to get there have had to head back or have flipped over due to the storms. So we’re kinda glad we were able to do it and safely get back.

Sabeugguggung, the village that we visited this morning, was devastated by the tsunami. On the evening of October 25th, 15-meter waves swept away all houses and left nothing. Half of the inhabitants of the area lost their lives and other half are displaced. The total population of the village before the tsunami was 237 people — now there are only 118 people left. Many fled to a nearby island, and around 30 people are staying in a displacement camp.

In that camp, I talked to Elsa Sago — a man in his late 30s, who lived in a house by the beach with his wife and a two-year-old daughter. Yesterday, he found his daughter’s body in a wreck of trees and stones after days of missing.

Elsa Sago and his wife Sri lost their two-year-old daughter Evelyn to the tsunami. Photo: Julisa Tambunan/Mercy Corps

“I held her tight when the wave came, but my head hit wood and then I passed out, so she slipped off my hand. When I woke up, she’s nowhere to be found,” he said. And then he continued, “She could have been saved. She was surviving for days. But help has been slow to arrive.”

What I saw next was one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life. While I was talking to Elsa, his wife Sri came back to the island after days at the emergency hospital in other island. She rushed to her husband crying and calling their daughter’s name. “Evelyn, where’s Evelyn?” And then Elsa took her hand and walked her to the place where Evelyn was buried. Then she fell to the ground with what was left from Evelyn — a pink-colored little backpack, in her hand. I was crushed.

We're here doing our best. Mercy Corps started to distribute non food items to survivors in these tsunami-stricken islands just a few days after the disaster. We are sending in more people tomorrow, including emergency response veteran Richard Jacquot from Washington D.C.

It’s almost midnight here now and it’s still raining outside. According to the news, an even bigger storm is coming tomorrow. We will be betting our luck again — but whatever we're able to do will be well worth it.

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