An excuse to make us get some exercise!

James Belford with staff at Poutasi Hospital.

At Poutasi Hospital, the Nursing Manager James Belford remembered previous drills carried out by the Health Department. After the earthquake, with a wary eye on the sea several hundred meters away, he had his staff evacuate the handful of patients a short way up the hill and over the main road. Everyone thought it was a joke and there was much laughter. “Eh – did you ever see a tsunami here?! Of course not…we know you are just finding excuses to make us get some exercise a ea?!” They scoffed at James as they strolled to wait under the shade of the mango tree by the roadside store, but a precise, efficient man, he refused to be budged from adhering to department protocol. There was no laughter when the water came rushing in to the village below them.

After. Thoughts.

“Building a house for rich people back home in New Zealand – they’re only showing off to their friends, they don’t need it. You build homes here in Samoa for the people of the tsunami – you’re not only building homes, but lives as well.” Jared Suisted, ‘Habitat for Humanity’ volunteer, Cambridge, New Zealand. ‘Waikato Times’ New Zealand.
“It’s been really good. It’s very different; hot, sweaty. Man, I’ve never sweated so much in my life! The work is slow. We’re working with wet timber, limited gear. We’ve got two hammers for four guys, one bench saw. We’re doing our best with what we’ve got.” Glen Cane, Habitat for Humanity Volunteer builder, Matamata, New Zealand. ‘Waikato Times’ New Zealand.



“I seriously believe there was a reason for this tsunami, it was a warning. These are signs of Biblical times. The flood occurred in the Bible and fires and major things occurred. This has to be a sign. We can talk scientific and say the plates shifted here and there and the heat has to come up through some volcano, well whatever, so be it, but it’s a miraculous thing. It’s a miraculous thing that we are all alive and we’re born in this world and we live in paradise, maybe we’ve abused it a little too much and taken it for granted. We need to go back and look at how and where we live and how not to abuse it.” Letiu Lee Palupe, Saleaumua, Samoa. Beside the tree that saved her life.


“The most important lesson for me from this tsunami – is that I never took such things seriously. When they were going through the tsunami drills and educating us about what to do, it wasn’t a big thing to me. It was only now that its happened, that we’ve learnt our lesson. We must learn, listen well to the warnings and the education that is provided by those groups who teach us about galu afi and other natural disasters…but for now, we just have to thank God for being alive.”
Vaelupe Olosepu, Malaela, Samoa.


, “I used to keep things for years, unwilling to let my kids use them. Nice sheets, towels, even clothes. I told my family we needed to save them for a special day. A special visitor. But then the tsunami came and took it all! Now I will teach my children and grandchildren not to keep things for years. They don’t matter. They wont last. Worry instead about being kind and share with everyone because things of this world wont last.”
Amy Purcell, Malaela, Samoa. Grt-grandmother of 3 yr old tsunami victim, Joseph Purcell.



“This is my only child left. I just thank God that one of my children survived...There has been so much kindness. Everything our family needed has been provided. After the [tsunami] we had nothing but we have been given so many things – a fridge, pots, plates and so much clothing and other things all the kindness and love of people. I just thank the goodness of people from our own country and all those from outside too.”
Tofilau Afatasi, Poutasi, Samoa. Father of two children killed in the tsunami.

A Bit of Burnout

So today we were interviewing survivors in Poutasi village. We had to navigate this narrow strip of hastily thrown together 'road' ( a very pretentious term for a load of gravel and sand dumped into the sea) to make it through to the actual village. Or whats left of it.
The whole village was built on/near mangroves. Which means its actually right at sealevel. Which means when its high tide - as it was today - then the sea is very best friends with the land. And today it was raining. And the sea was high. And lapping at my tires as we carefully drove over the road. And the broken shells of homes looked vaguely threatening. And frightfully depressing. And as i looked out over the ocean, I could totally envision a wave. Coming to engulf us. And i didnt want to be there.

Then we met with a lovely family at the end of the 'road'. The mother was washing laundry at a broken pipe outside. Two daughters and a son welcomed us cheerily, running to bring a mat for us to sit on while we interviewed their father. They had to sit beside him and shout our questions because his hearing was damaged in the tsunami. He ran to warn people at the end of his 'road'. He helped a 75 yr old man climb up a poumuli tree to safety by having him climb up on his back. Then he was hit by the wave and the debris and almost had his arm ripped off. And he was sad that he couldnt reach the woman screaming for help with her children. Because his arm wasnt working properly. And there was blood everywhere.

And while Im listening to his story, my eyes are drawn to the ceiling. Where the cement beams are cracked. And crumbling. And half the roof is caving in above us. And the reinforcing is gaping through the fragmenting cement. And the ocean is right outside the door. And it looks like just maybe...it could rear up and smash us to smithereens at any moment...And i could totally envision the roof deciding to give up its final gasp. And collapsing in a heap of dust. Right on top of all of us. And i didnt want to be there.

I was desperate to leave Poutasi today. I felt panic claw its way up through my chest as i drove back over the narrow road. Thinking about waves. Strong enough to roll cars. Like tumbleweed. We only did three interviews today. But it was enough.

Its been three weeks now since i started working fulltime on this project. I have met with survivors from Saleaumua. Satitoa. Lalomanu. Saleapaga. Malaela. Lepa. Vaigalu. Vavau. And Poutasi. I have seen children who were saved by parents who held them above the water while they were submerged. I have touched trees that people climbed up to evade the waters. I have taken photos of the wooden cabinet a 5 year old boy sat on and floated to safety. I have met frail old ladies in their 80's who were carried on the backs of their grandsons to safety. I have listened to mothers weep because they could not save their little ones. I have felt the anger of fathers who could not fight against a tsunami.

And I want to listen. And record their stories. And honor their experiences.

But not today. Because today I was afraid. Of the sea. And imaginary killer waves out to get me. And imaginary roofs falling down. And I am sorry that i wasnt up to it today.

And I am ashamed too. Because I didnt have to live through a tsunami. And i dont have to still live in a broken house with a fragmenting roof. So what the heck is my problem!?

I shall take a breath. And go back next week.