Recovering from Ketsana

Working in the CARE office in Ratanakiri, Cambodia during the response to Typhoon Ketsana has given Simon Rathan an insight into the support needed to help people who have very little and then lose everything.

When disasters hit, the media coverage is dependent on the scale and number of causalities; sensationalist headlines might be printed for a few days or even a week, but then the tragedy generally fades from the minds and memories of those who weren’t directly affected.

What is often forgotten are the days, weeks, months and years it takes people to rebuild their lives.

First there is the immediate problem – a huge number of people need food, shelter and clean water.  CARE and other international humanitarian organisations have led the coordination of necessities, partnering with smaller local NGOs and the local government.

Since the Typhoon, I have barely sat at my desk. I have been doing field observations, meeting with government officers, coordinating with other NGOs, arranging food distribution and talking with local people about how they’re recovering.

Simon Rathan speaking with Ratanakiri residents

Food distribution is so very important. People living in the districts are hungry; when the first delivery was made many people had not eaten for two days. They had been searching in the jungle for the little food that remained and when they saw the rice some wanted to eat it uncooked.  One of the stories that has really stuck with me is a couple in their 70s who lost everything in the flooding – crops, shelter, belongings – as they didn’t have time to move things.  The water rose much more quickly than ever before, and without access to transport they were only able to save one chicken.  I am happy to be able to offer some relief to people like this.

Although I have been working with CARE for almost two years I have never been involved in a relief effort like this one and I’m impressed  at how the NGOs are working together to support the local government.  The biggest challenge for me has been transporting goods – with so many remote places to reach it is not unusual to receive calls from staff having got vehicles stuck in the mud.

Even though the waters have now receded, the response to the flood is certainly not over.  Most of my team’s time is taken up with providing relief.  I hope that in the medium term CARE can continue to supply food, then work to help people to rebuild home gardens. In the future I would like to support villages to better prepare for serious flooding to minimise the impacts for next time.

World AIDS Day – 1 December

On 1 December each year, World AIDS Day is held to raise awareness of HIV/AIDS and strengthen support for HIV positive people and those who are affected by AIDS.

CARE’s global HIV and AIDS strategy is focused on preventing new HIV infections; mitigating the impact of the pandemic on economic development and community wellbeing; and increasing affected families’ access to high quality care and support. CARE’s projects strive to be community-based, multi-sectoral and to address the particular vulnerabilities of women and girls.

In the northern Mozambican coastal village of Vilanculos, HIV/AIDS prevalence has reached 12.5% and general understanding of HIV is low. But, Matilde Alfiado learned first hand of its seriousness and its devastating potential. She first arrived to the Vilanculos Rural Hospital with a skin infection that had spread from one of her legs, to almost her entire body. She felt sick, with a cough and diarrhoea that had lasted for weeks.

The hospital, supported and funded through CARE’s HIV intervention program, was able to treat her symptoms and perform blood tests. The skin infection and other problems were a result of her weak immune system due to her infection with HIV. Within a week the clinic was able to start her on anti-retroviral medications to boost her immune system against the infections.

The prevalence of HIV/AIDs in this area of Mozambique has a history of misinformation combined with misunderstanding of transmission realities. CARE is working to address these needs in a new, comprehensive program called Mais-Vida, meaning more life in Portuguese. The program includes counselling and education for the needs of the patients, and support to the healthcare system of Mozambique by training and educating government staff for early recognition of the symptoms and in the precautionary measures available.

The Mais-Vida mobile clinic services reach even the most remote areas, and the people who can’t make the trip to the hospital themselves. With the support of CARE’s interventions, the hospital has more than doubled the number of identified HIV cases in the three districts included in the program, and has trained 92 healthcare workers on identification, treatment and follow-up of HIV/AIDS and the common secondary infections.

Since her first visit to the Vilanculos Rural Hospital, Matilde has now become an advocate for diagnosing and treatment of HIV. “I tell my friends and family to come to the clinic to get tested. I’ve brought my mother, sister and six year old daughter – and all of their tests have come back negative.” Matilde is well aware that the education and medicine she is receiving from CARE and the hospital have saved her life. “I don’t know what I would have done if the clinic was not here”, she said “I was so sick and my family didn’t have any way to help me.” Now she comes regularly to the clinic for support, counselling and medicine to keep her immune system strong. She has no recurring signs of the infection and has gained 11 kilos since she first came to the hospital. “This is one of our main indicators that the medications are working,” says CARE project director Doctor Giwa “I was here when Matilde first came into the hospital, she was thin and covered in a skin infection, the anti-viral medication cleared up her secondary symptoms and allowed her the opportunity to enjoy her life.”

Matilde’s weight gain is not the only indicator that she is enjoying her life again, you can see it in her shy smile. The Mais-Vida program has given her a chance to live more, and she now knows how to protect herself and others from the spread of HIV/AIDS and perhaps most importantly, she is sharing what she has learned with her friends.

Read CARE’s latest news on World AIDS day

Campaigning against sexual and gender based violence in Uganda

Lee Webster, CARE UK

Lee Webster is joining women activists, all survivors of rape, who are embarking on a four-day march from their home in the conflict-affected north to the capital Kampala to meet their politicians and say enough is enough. They’ll be joined by more than 1,000 people on the streets of Kampala, including a national pop star (Mariam Ndagire), to send a strong message to the government to end sexual and gender based violence.

25 November

The first moment I really know I’m back in Africa is when a shimmer of pink catches my eye through the plane window, and I turn to see a beautiful sunrise on the horizon.  I think sleepily about warm days and sunshine, it’s been a long flight.

When I get off the plane in Nairobi, it’s raining and cold.  So much for sunny days!  I immediately panic about my lack of waterproof clothes, my hasty scan of the internet for weather in East Africa had yielded favourable reports, and I’d brought light summery clothes.

After a short wait at Nairobi airport, I’m on the plane to Entebbe, Uganda’s international airport, an hour from the capital, Kampala.

As I take the final leg of the journey, I reflect on the fact that I’m arriving in Uganda on November 25, the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.  Violence against women is no small problem in Uganda, and it’s no coincidence I’m arriving today, I’m here to take part in CARE’s Voices Against Violence campaign with women activists in the north of the country.

According to Grace Kirembe, manager of CARE’s Transforming Lives initiative in the north of Uganda, violence against women is widespread.  “Most women here are survivors of violence, sadly its commonplace in northern Uganda”, she tells me.  Grace and her colleague Judith have worked with local women’s organisations to organise a ‘caravan of women’ to travel around northern Uganda raising awareness of violence against women and women’s rights, and then to Kampala to present the government with a petition, demanding that the government listens to grassroots women and takes action to combat violence.  I’m here to share experiences about campaigning, to collect the stories of women so we can alert the world to their struggle, and to capture the events – and I’m traveling with internationally-renowned photographer Jenny Matthews.

I’m really excited to be here and feel really privileged to take part in the women of Uganda’s campaign.  But I feel the weight of responsibility of my trip.  The women are not campaigning about something distant or abstract.  They are campaigning about rape, which has happened to them, and continues to threaten their lives.  Who am I to worry about staying dry, when they have to worry about staying alive?

26 November

According to an article in today’s New Vision newspaper, a total of 12,829 sexual violence cases were reported to police in 2007.  This led to only 28 convictions.  8,512 of the cases are still pending enquiry.  It’s a stark reminder of the scale of the problem that the campaign is up against.

We’ve driven to Gulu, in the north of Uganda, where much of CARE’s work on gender-based violence takes place.  Robert, who drove us here in the CARE truck, has worked for CARE since 2000.  He laughs at me when I say I’ve worked for CARE for 7 months.

Grace has instructed us to be ready at 7am tomorrow – for the journey to Pader, where the official launch of the Voices Against Violence campaign will take place.

29 November

“Violence against women is spoiling the little peace we have had in northern Uganda.  Did our mothers and sisters not suffer enough during the war?”

So asks Carolina Lanyero from Acholi Religious Leaders Peace Initiative, one of CARE’s local partners in Amuru.  It’s a very good question.

We’re in Amuru, it’s the third day of the caravan of women, and our numbers are growing every day.  And every day more women jump up to dance whenever there is musical entertainment.  I get the sense that the women are becoming more confident in their surroundings; the caravan is becoming their caravan.  And it’s breaking down barriers.  More and more I see women activists from small villages dancing with women councilors and dignitaries.  The women are also more used to having me around, and more willing to talk about their lives.

I spend the morning speaking to women, and hearing their stories.  I’m learning that in the aftermath of a conflict that broke down families and the very fabric of society, domestic violence has become an accepted norm.  

The women speak frankly and openly, and although their stories speak a sad history, they are also full of hope.  Fifty-eight year old Florence Okello tells me how she has become an ambassador against violence in her community, after her in-laws violently attacked her after the death of her husband:

“I am proud to say I have helped ten homesteads where violence was prevalent.  I talk to the families and explain to the man why they should change their ways.  Sometimes they listen, sometimes they don’t.  Change is slow, conflict damaged our society.  If the man doesn’t listen, I try to talk to a close friend of his, sensitise this friend about violence, and then ask him to speak to the perpetrator.  Sometimes a man will listen to his friend more than he will listen to me.”

I like Florence a lot, she’s warm and friendly, and later we dance together, causing much amusement to the assembled crowds of children, who I guess don’t expect to see the white lady dancing!

The activists are excited about the trip to Kampala, the weight of expectation in the air is enormous.  As 38 year old Angela Akong tells me, “I haven’t been to Kampala since I was a child.  If I get chance to speak to the government, I will ask them to pass laws to protect women from men’s violence.  The government needs to join hands with other agencies, and everyone must work together until women are safe”.

There’s a lot of hope that things will change.  I know from long campaigning experience that change is usually slow.  I hope the women will persevere until they get it.  From the determination in their voices, I expect they will.

Two months of hard work and a lifetime of benefits

 By Alice Clements, CARE Australia Communications Manager 

When I met 26 year old Agustina Maia near the top of a mountain in Raifun Village, Timor-Leste, she was proudly perched on top of a new water tank; a tank that forms the basis for the clean water system she and the other people in her village have just about finished building.

Agustina Maia growing vegetables (kitchengardens) in Raifun, Timor Leste.

CARE’s Integrated Rural Development Project has brought a broad range of improvements to Agustina’s village, all of which have been planned and implemented according to the villagers’ priorities. Almost every single inhabitant has been involved in the project, learning new skills and working hard to bring about positive change for themselves, their families and their community.

In the last six months alone, Agustina has learnt new gardening techniques that will help to generate increased income for her family and the community. She has also undertaken her first paid job as a construction worker on a much-needed road to her remote village.

The project that she is telling me about today is perhaps the most vital of the services that her village was lacking before the Integrated Rural Development Project began; clean, safe drinking water.

Agustina and other villagers have been given the skills needed to construct a clean water system, provided the materials and supported throughout the process. The villagers are midway through the project which, thanks to their motivation and hard work, will take less than two months from start to finish.

Once the system is working, 260 people in two sub-villages of Raifun Village will have a supply of clean water, something the communities have never had before.

For Agustina and other women like her, this project will literally give her the gift of time. At the moment, as the only female in a family with four older brothers, she spends up to 12 hours of every day walking to collect water that is safe to drink.

“I now understand skills that only men knew before” says Agustina. “This will change my life because I can use the time saved to help my mother and father on the land, growing cassava, sweet potato, beans and corn.”

“My whole community is happy because we will now have water for everyone.”

Eugenia Viegas and Agustina Maia with the new water tank in Raifun Foho subvillage, Timor-Leste.

Ebrahim’s journey

Twenty-five years ago, during the infamous 1984 famine in Ethiopia, Ebrahim Jemal’s life was saved by emergency food distributed by CARE International. Today he has come full circle, working for CARE to strengthen the livelihoods of people in his community so that they can protect themselves from future emergencies.  

This is his story:

‘I was born in 1976 in Grawa Woreda, in the highland region of East Hararghe, in eastern Ethiopia. I was the first child and a precious gift to my family, because I arrived after seven years of marriage, and after much praying and begging their God for a child.

‘When the drought came I was about 9 years old and a second grade student at primary school. Even though in normal years our household was better off than many, my family ran out of grain because we shared our reserves with relatives and neighbours in need. There were many households in the same position. I clearly remember that everything was dry, animal skeletons were scattered around, people were digging here and there in a vain search for water, and schools were closed. The number of beggars was terrifying and hopelessness reigned over the whole community.

‘The loss inflicted by that drought was enormous and remains in the memories of millions all over the world. Many lives were lost and millions of heads of cattle vanished all over the country.  East Hararghe was one of the zones heavily hit, and as a result all the kebeles (group of villages) in the Woreda (administrative area) were targeted by CARE’s emergency program. I was one of thousands of children whose lives were rescued by this organisation.

‘I remember when the distribution of the emergency rations started. I will never forget the wheat porridge with vegetable oil that my mom used to feed me. To date, I feel something inside whenever I see cans and containers marked “USA” as this reminds me of that bad time. But that food saved my life and the lives of many other children.

‘I went on to finish primary school, enrolled in high school and eventually graduated University with a degree in Agriculture, and recently a MSC in Rural Development and Agricultural Extension.  

‘Now I am working as livelihoods specialist for CARE supporting the livelihoods of vulnerable people in East and West Hararghe. I am one of the handful of individuals who in turn got the opportunity to help the poor to protect themselves from another emergency.  

Despite his own life being saved by emergency food, Ebrahim recognises the limitations of emergency response in tackling the underlying causes of food crisis in Ethiopia.

‘It seems to us that too often the money comes after a disaster is already here. By that time, we cannot say that we do not want the food, because it will save us. But it is better for us, and cheaper for the West, in the long run if more money comes for early warning programmes or better roads or schools, to prepare us before a crisis starts.’

CARE is working to reduce people’s vulnerability to emergency through programmes like Ebrahim’s, for example: rehabilitating wells and supplying reliable clean water sources; distributing seeds and tools to help devastated farmers recover and plant for next harvest; and helping pastoralists cope with the effects of climate change by diversifying their herds and sources of income.

We are reaching more than 500,000 people with emergency aid in Oromiya, Afar and Amhara regions. This includes transferring food to 300,000 of the most vulnerable people, providing lifesaving emergency nutrition to 70,000 malnourished children and mothers, and responding to the acute watery diarrhea outbreak.

This work is alongside CARE’s long-term development activities tackling the underlying causes of people’s vulnerability and social injustice.

The women of Kibera are powerful

By Chris Northey, Emergencies Coordinator, CARE Australia

The women of Kibera are powerful. I learnt this yesterday.

Kibera in Nairobi is one of the largest informal urban settlements in Africa. Home to close to a million people crammed together in five square kilometres of land, it is a potential urban nightmare of the future, with no running water, sewerage or other services that we in Australia take for granted. The million people who call Kibera home came there seeking a better life. For many, this possibility continues to be remote.

Kibera is where CARE works in partnership with 15 community groups; trying to make the lives of HIV positive people better; helping households where there are only children and; supporting the grandmothers who have been given the task of raising grandchildren. This year the people of Kibera have been hit with a double blow, protracted drought and rising food prices have meant many Kenyans are not able to afford the most basic meals. Research by CARE in March found that people are increasingly skipping meals and selling valuable household assets in the face of food shortages.

The informal settlement of Kibera in Nairobi, Kenya

In response to this, CARE began distributing food vouchers to people in Kibera who were the most vulnerable to the food shortage including malnourished orphans, child only households, pregnant women, people with HIV and the elderly. Yesterday I visited Kibera to hear more from those with whom CARE works.

On the way we pass a shop called, ‘Baraka Traders’, I ask my colleague what ‘Baraka’ means. ‘Blessing’, he says with a wry smile. I see row after row of precariously constructed houses that look very susceptible to rain and other elements and have open sewers running between them. Legend has it that the reason the houses are so susceptible to collapse is because they are built on layers of rubbish compacted over the years and thus lack a solid foundation. I smell dust and wood-smoke and diesel, smells I always associate with Africa. I hear Congolese rumba music, its infectious twirling rhythms instantly recognisable, and see goats and skinny yellow dogs. And I see people, dozens of people walking along the road, in buses, on bicycles, repairing cars, getting haircuts, living their lives.

Distribution of the food vouchers to more than 1,200 families in Kibera.

When I arrived at the CARE office I met three powerful and inspiring women; Veronica, Grace and Susan. I’d like to share with you the stories of their community in Kibera.

‘The vouchers really helped people, I visit people who were bed-ridden, with the vouchers they were able to buy food to take with their ARV (Anti Retroviral Drugs: medication for the treatment of HIV, the virus that causes AIDS), now they are out of bed and moving around.’

‘With the vouchers, as well as food, we bought flour in bulk and made and sold chapattis and mandazis (doughnuts) on the street, we are starting to bring in a small profit that helps our families.’

‘The vouchers made me feel my dignity as a human being , imagine me being able to walk into a supermarket, a place where I had never gone before, and choosing things that I wanted for my family from the shelves; flour, oil, sugar and tea.’

Dignity and choice, these were words I heard several times on that short visit.

A mural seen throughout Kibera, Kenya.

I asked them what went wrong with the project, what didn’t they like. Quite often we’re only told the good news on these visits so I was a little surprised when Veronica said, ‘It was not enough, there were many more people who wanted help, I found it very difficult to explain to people.’

She continued saying, ‘We are grateful but you need to do more, don’t think of this as just giving food, it is more than that, you are giving people a chance, an opportunity to better their lives.’ I then asked, rather sheepishly, if there was anything else they needed and was told; ‘People should have been able to purchase soap as well with the vouchers.’

CARE is increasingly using vouchers for distributing essential food and other items to people affected by crisis or disaster. It can be a powerful tool, especially in urban areas where it is a lack of access not availability that is hindering people’s ability to source food. Using vouchers means that women like Veronica and Grace and Susan can have choice in the decisions they make on behalf of their children and grandchildren. Decisions that we take for granted in our day to day lives of 24 hour trading and an over-abundance of resources and choice. As I was leaving Kibera, Veronica told me she was giving me a job to do, ‘I want to thank CARE, you tell Australians how their money has helped us improve our lives, but you need to find resources for more projects like this,’ she paused, ‘and please do not forget the soap next time.’

I told you Kibera women are powerful.

What will a good deal in Copenhagen look like?

By Julie Webb, Climate Change Coordinator, CARE Australia

In the same week that I joined CARE’s advocacy team in Bangkok for the UN climate change talks, CARE’s emergency teams were responding to the consequences of typhoons, droughts and floods in the Philippines, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Ethiopia, Kenya, Somalia and Guatemala  – some of the poorest communities in the world. 

Jinsi Devi in front of her mud house that is engulfed by water.

Whilst I was in Bangkok I was trying to influence government delegations negotiating a global deal to follow on from the first phase of the UN’s Kyoto Protocol. It seemed surreal that there I was, worrying about how to get a good global climate deal, while so many of my CARE colleagues were on the ground helping people respond to and recover from a seemingly endless series of disasters. Whilst the world’s governments are arguing about it, those people most vulnerable to the impacts of climate change are already feeling its effects, and these effects often fall disproportionately hard on women. These very same people are being forgotten in the fog of politics.

These negotiations in the lead up to the United Nations Climate Conference in Copenhagen in December this year are not just about parties agreeing on a nice form of words, by taking a middle path. Those most vulnerable to climate change need three things for good deal in Copenhagen: scientifically sound reduction in emissions, a massive scale up of funds in line with needs, and commitments in the agreement that those people and groups most vulnerable will be prioritised and meaningfully engaged.

However, the parts of the draft treaty text that give priority to the most vulnerable people and groups are under dispute. Some countries want that text eliminated but, to their credit, some others, such Australia, want it kept in. The negative effects of climate change are being felt already, today, by people. And if vulnerable people and groups are not given a place in the text that will hopefully be agreed in Copenhagen then the deal will fail one vital test: being good for people.

Take the case of Vietnam where rising sea levels and more frequent storm surges are a real threat to the coastline. Data already shows these storms are arriving more frequently and this looks likely to continue. Adaptation money (funds that allow communities to adjust to the affects of climate change) could be spent on building a concrete sea wall, which it has been shown cannot hold back the ocean. Or it could be spent on working with communities to replant and maintain mangroves that protect the coastline, harbour marine life and provide a sustainable source of income. CARE’s experience tells us that these more creative solutions, and not the most obvious technical fixes, are the ones that work best, last longest, and benefit the most people.

CARE volunteers planting a mangrove forest on the coastline in Vietnam.

A good deal in Copenhagen needs to first and foremost be about people, groups and communities. If the agreement does not reflect that then we will have failed those people that need us most and who have contributed the least to climate change.

It is a disaster, no one can be blamed

It was Wednesday afternoon in the village of Tanjung Alai. Sariani had just finished her prayers and was sitting in the living room watching TV with her five-year-old grandchild, Farisa. It was a regular evening; everything was just fine until the ground started to shake.

‘It was shaking as if a big truck had passed by in front our house,’ Sariani, 49. As the shaking got stronger she realized it was not a truck, it was an earthquake. ‘Then, we got up and ran.’

A few seconds later, her house collapsed.

The 49-year-old Sariani lost her home in the earthquake and now lives in a tent in front of the ruins of her house. Nothing could saved from the house but some plates, glasses, a cooking jar and a small bed.

Feeling weak, Sariani lay down on the ground. Everything was spinning. She had lost everything she ever had.

‘When I saw my house collapse in front of my eyes, I was so shocked. I could not say a word,’ Sariani says in a quiet voice.

Sariani’s husband, Jafan, 53, is a motorcycle taxi driver. He was in the market when the earthquake hit. ‘After the tremor stopped, I rushed back home,’ Although grateful that his family is safe and unharmed, seeing the ruins of the house that he built with his own hands was devastating. ‘I cried seeing my house destroyed – the house that I build by saving penny by penny from my daily income as a motorcycle taxi driver. It was gone.’

The family, like many others, spent the night outside, with sky as their roof, afraid to go inside. Most of the family’s belongings are buried under the ruble. All they could save were some plates, glasses, a cooking jar and a small bed. They are traumatized. Sariani is afraid to even go near the remains of what used to be her house for fear the remaining walls will also collapse.

Jafan can only hope for the best for the family. ‘It is a disaster, no one can be blamed. What I can do now is work again, harder than before, so I can rebuild the home for my family.’

‘I cried seeing my house destroyed – the house that I build by saving penny by penny from my daily income as a motorcycle taxi driver. It was gone.’

Captive to the whims of the river

In the rich world, homeowners lust after a water view. In a poor country like Vietnam, it’s a real estate feature with potentially lethal consequences.

In the early afternoon of 29 September, the eye of Typhoon Ketsana ripped through the central province of Quang Nam, buffeting communities with gusts of over 150 kilometres an hour. The road from the coastal city of Danang is littered with remnants of the storm; gashes in the asphalt where the road has given way, and billboards cut through as if by giant claws.

On Saturday 3 October, CARE International in Vietnam distributed relief items to 500 families in Que Xuan 1 commune, Que Son district: each family receiving 10 kg of rice, a box containing 24 packets of noodles, and 20 litres of water. While much needed, the relief is intended only to help them navigate the difficult first few days. The people of the commune will require additional support, and CARE, which has previous experience in working with typhoon affected communities in Vietnam, is keen to assist those affected and to reduce the impact of future disasters.

One of those affected by Typhoon Ketsana is Nguyen Thu Tung. She talks from beneath a wide brimmed conical hat, a red rim around her lips from a lifetime of chewing beetle-nut taking the place of lipstick. Her slight stature and gaunt physique bear witness to a lifetime of hard work and physical labour. Now 69 years old, she lives in a small house by the river, which she shares with her son and six other members of her family.

Typhoon survivor; Nguyen Thu Tung, 69, Vietnam. Photo: Julian Swallow/CARE

Floods are a part of life in Que Xuan 1 commune. Even when calm, the water laps at the back of Nguyen Thu Tung’s house. They are a family resigned to the whims of the river, but describe the flooding caused by Typhoon Ketsana as the worst they have experienced.

Ketsana’s rapid approach heralded three days of wind and rain that damaged property and caused the river to spill over its banks. With little time to prepare, Nguyen Thu Tung’s family retreated to a bed raised on chairs, a sort of life raft to which they clung for a day and a night, living on a diet of peanuts and dried noodles. They watched as the floodwaters rose and the wind tore at the roofing, the rubbing of sheets of tin as they strained against their bolts audible above the deafening roar of the winds.

Nguyen Thu Tung gestures to a slight stain on the wall, like the ring in a bathtub, which indicates the height of the floodwaters. She estimates that, at their peak, they reached 2.5 m at the back of the house, and 1.5 m at the front.

The well from which Nguyen Thu Tung draws her household water is contaminated. Photo: CARE/Julian Swallow

Today, the river has returned to normal; a sluggish brown that gives no hint of the damage it has wrought. Pockets of blue sky now stare through the gaps in the ceiling of her home, where tin sheeting is yet to be reapplied to a bamboo frame cut from their garden.

The house is in two parts: a one-room concrete hut facing the road gives way to a semi-enclosed bamboo courtyard beside the river. It is typical of those in the neighbourhood; well swept and maintained by its house-proud owners, but with scant living area or protection from the elements.

Like many households in Que Xuan 1, Nguyen Thu Tung and her family live a hand to mouth existence, subsisting on rice from a small plot of land donated by the government. The struggle for food is constant, the rice supplemented through the 45 USD her grandson earns as a casual labourer each month, and the occasional sale of livestock. Four chickens scurry around our feet, picking at what the river left behind. They are the remaining remnants of the twenty-five chickens and three pigs that used to roam the garden, most of which drowned in the flood. All up, Nguyen Thu Tung’s son estimates their losses at 600 USD: a fortune for the family.

The family has been without electricity for five days, but are able to cook on a wood stove. While drinking water comes from a tap, the well from which they draw their household water is contaminated. Nguyen Thu Tung’s grandson fills a bucket and lets it drain to demonstrate the sediment with which it is laced. The government will come and clean it with chemicals, but in the meantime they are drawing water from a neighbour’s well.

It is a sense of community that has kept them going. Nguyen Thu Tung’s grandson sports the scars from helping to repair an elderly neighbour’s roof, but is happy to have helped.

“We have worked together to overcome the typhoon,” he says.

God, I will never forget the sound

By Wiwik Widyastuti
CARE Indonesia Communications Manager
Padang Pariaman, West Sumatra

Zaimarti is sitting on the corner of a wooden bench in front of what used to be her home, finishing her lunch – instant noodles with some rice. It’s the same menu she’s had for the past five days, for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

The 42-year-old recalls the day of the quake with horror. ‘We were in the kitchen and we heard a loud cracking sound. Suddenly, the earth was shaking. I called my children in panic, telling them to go outside. And the sound, God, I will never forget the sound of my floor cracking. After that, water come up from underneath.’

Zaimarti lives with her two children, 14-year old Fernando, and 6-year old Uci, in a modest brick home. Her husband, Chairul Anwar, works as a part-time driver in the city of Padang. With their house located not far from the shores of the Indian Ocean, Marni really fears a tsunami.

Zaimarti lives with her two children, 14-year old Fernando, and 6-year old Uci, in a modest brick home. Her husband, Chairul Anwar, works as a part-time driver in the city of Padang. With their house located not far from the shores of the Indian Ocean, Marni really fears a tsunami.

‘Without thinking, we ran to the hill, fearing a tsunami would come and wash all of us away, just like it did in Aceh,’ says Marni, Zaimarti’s 60-year-old mother who lives next door.

Zaimarti and her family, along with many neighbours, spent the night in the open air on the hill. When morning arrived, they returned from the hill to their damaged homes.

‘It was a horrifying scene, seeing our house destroyed. We even had not yet finished building it, and now it is gone,’ says Zaimarti, holding Uci in her arms. Her mother’s house is also destroyed so the big family has no other place to stay. ‘We do not know what will happen next. My children cannot go to school because the schools are also damaged.’

‘Without thinking further, we ran to the hill, fearing a tsunami would come and wash all of us away, just like it did in Aceh,’ adds Marni, 60, the mother of Zaimarti who live next door.

The earthquake also damaged their well, so there is little access to clean water. ‘After the earthquake, the well is just empty. All the water is gone – all that is left is sand,’ she says. ‘Not only the well. Our kitchen and bathroom are also destroyed. We take debris from the house and use it for fire wood to cook.’

Zaimarti, her mother and children are now living in tents in front of their house. They are afraid to stay in the ruins of their home, as the building could collapse with only a small shake. Almost all of their belongings are gone. Little could be saved.

Zamiarti uses debris from her destroyed house as firewood.

‘I can not imagine how we can rebuild our house, says Zamiarti. ‘We barely have money to buy food, let alone rebuild the house. I hope someone will help us.’