The tsunami

We had been here for days already and I knew I would never get used to the sight of all this destruction. The tsunami that had wrecked this havoc was a month ago and the island was still getting aftershocks. My prayer every time I felt one hit was, “Dear God, if this is where you want me to die, please don’t let my family bring my body home, that would be too expensive.” I was practical but I wasn’t afraid of dying, I knew where I was going, but these people….thousands had been lost, thousands had been made homeless, thousands had lived… so to speak, to die latter from the shock of finding family dead, from the injuries they received initially, from helping to rescue those trapped, or from the unsanitary conditions that resulted from decaying bodies, polluted water supplies and food spoiling in refrigerators separated from electricity.

When we had arrived the spectacle that met my eyes was devastating. I was horrified at the demolition the thirty foot waves had accomplished. Buildings were flattened and swept clean. The concrete slabs that had once held buildings were littered with the personal items and debris of other houses as the ocean had splashed about redecorating the land with no aesthetic plan. Bodies were being carried to pyres to be incinerated in mass as we walked to our headquarters. Previously burned piles exposed bones of recently cremated humans. We passed a ragged population devoid of hope and expectations, not a tear left, not a prayer of finding loved ones…..alive. We couldn’t drive because the tsunami inconsiderately didn’t leave a clear path, or any autos for that matter, so I got to see first hand the haunted faces. My lips kept moving in silent prayer, careful not to utter Jesus’ name aloud…..I would be stoned for that, or worse, I was warned. Christianity was not the main religion of this island. And we were not welcomed. At least not by the ineffectual government.

I had been invited to join this medical mission team that was sponsored by some rich guy in New York, because I was a nurse, and a darn good one and not anywhere near modest! I loved nursing. Every one I met on the team had been a stranger days ago, now after days of in-services and preparation we knew each other intimately.

At our final destination, the girls got to stay at a pastor’s house that had been far enough away from the beach to escape obliteration, the boys got the privilege of sleeping on the church’s concrete floors, which also served as our infirmary, pharmacy and triage center. We had set tents up for various purposes, like respiratory care, out patient surgery, and for supplies.
Just because the girls were in the pastor’s house didn’t make life easy, we also slept on floors and all of us showered as a group(not co-ed!). Public showering with cold, dirty water was done outside in makeshift tents with no roofs. This wasn’t because of the tsunami however, this was the area’s norm due to their habitual poverty, the tsunami didn‘t help it. Young boys from the area would perch up on trees to taunt us females. Oh, well. Apparently adolescent boys are similar in every culture!

One of the team members, a “lovely” (please note the sarcasm) young lady, was appalled by where she found herself. She had actually packed clothes for a vacation similar to a cruise, having been told our benefactor was a rich lawyer. A rich single lawyer. She had come on a husband quest to a country turned upside down! She complained daily. There was no place to hang her clothes… oh my gosh, they were going to be so wrinkled. The “bathing” water was filthy, there was no electricity for her curling iron, no telling what they were feeding us, and what the humidity did to her tresses just wasn’t right! I suspect she slept through the information sessions we had been required to attend before embarking on our trip, (not vacation). Worst of all, she couldn’t identify any one on the trip that fit the bill of rich lawyer, to her constant vocal disappointment he apparently didn’t come.

I had teamed up with the sponsoring pastor‘s son, Mark, who became my protocol expert, interpreter and tour guide.Mark had lived here for twenty years off and on. His parents were American missionaries who only went back to the states occasionally for the required breathers, but Mark had returned to get an education and visited here for "his" occasional breathers. He had lost many friends in this recent betrayal of nature but felt assured that through his father’s interventions in spreading the gospel he would see them again; most of them anyway. He was very good natured but Miss Prima Dona (henceforth referred to as Dona) kept hitting a raw nerve, she interrogated him about every American male she saw, still on the lookout for her lawyer, or any reasonable substitute. Her constant complaining and whining didn’t make my days any easier either, she made it hard to exhibit God’s love. Nights were actually harder as we slept in dormitory conditions. The lucky absent lawyer should get a missive about Dona’s nasal sleeping sounds. If she were a car, she wouldn’t pass inspection. Heck, as a Christian she wouldn’t pass inspection!

Mid way into our stay a group of us were sent to the local orphanage to do assessments and give vaccinations. The only way to get there was to walk past hostile natives who left death notes on the church doors. Nice people. Their own government wasn’t willing to help rebuild their town, it had in fact set up refugee camps that were more like prisons, yet the locals were unified in their hatred of us. I nursed one little girl who had been cut up for attending a church service months ago. Oh, we had also treated several of the local police force, who apparently were more gracious and lent their presence to our efforts, keeping murderous forces at bay.

Along the littered beach, that had been shortened by the oceans upheaval, we passed boats that had been the owners’ sole income, allowing the fishing economy to prosper, splintered and destroyed. The poor victims were not only left homeless, family-less, foodless, they were left jobless. Then I saw it. Up further there were masses of backpacks, pencils, scissors, once colorful construction paper and notebooks strewn about next to clothes worn by kids. One book was lying open on a very readable page. A young school girl had written her English lesson. “My name is Jeni, I’m twelve years old and live in ……….” Tears sprang forth automatically. Where was Jeni now? Was she alive, were her parents alive, was she unharmed? A young girl like any in America, doing a homework assignment, walking home from school to be bulldozed by a gigantic wall of water. Hopefully death was brief and painless. Hopefully she had met the Lord. If I could only find her, I’d take her home with me in a nano second! Oh, how I wished this island could have just one good thing happen to them right now.

Mark gently removed the book from my hands and pulled me into his sweaty embrace. He was wise enough to keep silent. There wasn’t a word invented that could eradicate my sorrow. Dona just kept on walking, she‘d put herself on remote, ready to go home the minute the plane returned. She was every bit a social snob. This place was so beneath her! She just kept walking and swatting at mosquitoes. We had offered her some repellant earlier but it clashed with her expensive perfume, which I believe actually attracted the biting insects. This brought a slight smile to my lips, God is just! Then as I was still smirking, Miss Prima Donna tripped and landed in a heap of dead fish and animal ….. Yep, God is just. I sniffed. No trace of expensive perfume left now and she smelled better, attracting more mosquitoes.

Before we could continue to the orphanage the earth started to boogie. Trees started to sway. The waves splashed about. My feet sank into the sand, water lapped at my ankles. Oh, Oh. Go inland and be buried under trees, or stay on the beach and be swept away into the ocean, supposedly where live started. Well if you believe aquatic live was formed before man you’d be right. Everything ended as quickly as it started. My feet were solidly buried under six inches of sand, it took some digging to get freed. Miss Prima Dona, her usual cheery self, let out some sailor like verbiage and began to retrace her steps back to our command center. Mark, the others, and I continued to the orphanage relieved to be denied her company. We stopped short at the sound of Dona’s loud vocalizations. This time she seemed …..happy? Excited? Had some rich lawyer been deposited onto the beach? Mark and I and the others ran back to rescue the dude if that was the case. Being washed ashore would be traumatic enough without having to meet Dona alone.

Dona was on her knees bent over, scooping something up and dropping it, then re-scooping and dropping. She was laughing and crying. This wasn’t good. What ever could transform her into something emotional on this island had to be from Satan himself. We raced around her to get a view of …..a chest. A wooden chest had been uncovered by the recent upheaval. The chest was pretty decayed, the wooden planks were just held upright by the dirt packed around it. Inside the chest was…jewelry, lots of jewelry, necklaces, rings, bracelet, gold goblets, gold platters, everything glittery that God had created to be valuable. We’d found the buried treasure of some long ago pirates!

“I’m rich!” Dona beamed for the first time since we’d been here. Oh, how I loved to smash her expectations.

“This is going to the village people, they need it for rebuilding!” I retorted, and was seconded by the others with me. “It’s theirs. It’s on their land.” I pushed the knife in deeper.

Dona leapt to her feet ready to die for her treasures but realizing she was outnumbered she bellowed and marched off. Wow, can jugulars really get that enlarged? I looked up and thanked God. The same disaster that had brought death, had uncovered vast opportunities.

Days latter after a celebration provided by the discovery of the treasure chest that would provide building supplies and other necessities, I sat on a plane with the other team members ready to head home, ready but definitely not happy about it. Completely opposite was Dona’s excitement. She was singing and humming while admiring herself in her compact, applying and reapplying her lipstick as we waited for all to board. This was going to be a long flight, time for lots of lipstick, I hope she had several tubes. I had missed saying bye to Mark this morning. His father informed me he’d had some business to tend to and gave me Mark’s regards and love.
I kept my eyes fixed out the window trying to ignore the sound of my heart breaking. I couldn’t get Jeni out of my thoughts not to mention I’d probably never see Mark again. At least I had taken tons of pictures. Somebody sat next to me and I glanced over at a crisply dressed gentleman, wearing an Etro blazer and Gucci Moccasins, seat belting a little girl to his right. Oh well, I knew I’d have to share these seats eventually. I just hoped this wasn’t a chatty guy, I really felt like wallowing in my self pity right now, missing “my“ Mark.

I looked back out at the tarmac, putting up barriers I hoped any intelligent, civilized man would recognize. He coughed, cleared his throat and started to speak. I pulled up the ear plugs of my IPOD. Take a hint, buddy.

He tapped my knee. Okay, I was going to have to be blunt! Looking into his eyes I gasped so intently I swallowed my gum and became incapacitated with coughing. It was Mark! In a very expensive suit. Who was the little girl?

Mark began, “The past few days I’ve been going all over the countryside trying to find your Jeni.” (Here I nearly fainted with excitement that he had actually carried out such an Herculean task, but reality took over when he continued), “ I couldn’t find anyone that answered to that name, but this little girl was orphaned after the tsunami last month. I’m taking her home to the states to place her in some nice home, would you be interested?” Would I ever, what better way to honor Jeni‘s memory?

I was flabbergasted. It turns out that Mark would know just what strings to pull, seeing he worked in a very prestigious law firm, one that carried his moniker. Dona, eavesdropping on the whole conversation, endeavored to intercept some of the attention for herself, still holding out hope that she might land her big fish. Mark immediately put up barriers to Dona that any intelligent, civilized women would recognize! He leaned over and kissed me passionately, for the first time since we met, but not for the last time.

Math. 5:43-48
Math. 7:15-20
math 24:4-8
Luke 10:25-37
Rom. 12:20