A Paradise Tinged with Sadness

Travel Story by Jason Gaskell

Phi-Phi Island, Thailand

December 26th 2004 – a now infamous date that many people will remember as a day when one of biggest natural disasters in modern history hit South-East Asia.  A tsunami caused by an Indian Ocean earthquake surged around the region killing an estimated 225,000 people in eleven countries.  More than $7 billion in humanitarian aid was sent out to help rebuild the area, and almost four years on, the reconstruction is not yet complete.  I went to Phi-Phi Island, Thailand, and witnessed some of damage still remaining; and some of the scars that had not yet healed over—

Shortly after arriving on Phi-Phi, I took a day trip to nearby Bamboo Island and did some snorkeling before going back to the resort and relaxing on the beach.  I had a fruity drink in my hand and it was like any holiday should be; and at that moment I didn’t give the tsunami tragedy a second thought. 

If you stick to the tourist areas and resorts like many people do, you probably won’t notice anything out of place at all on Phi-Phi; and indeed, you might not want to.  I mean, who is going to feel relaxed when they’re thinking about disasters all the time?  The industry and the economy of Thailand would implode.  So, any remaining remnants of the tsunami are understandably well hidden from tourists.  To the incurious or the selectively ignorant, Paradise seems to be safely back where it should be – a timeless retreat for the wealthy, the weary, and the overworked.  But not everything has been put back how it was just yet.

Around the rear side of the resort that I was staying at were the newly built staff quarters – and beyond that, a small local, dilapidated ramshackle rural community.  Strolling around the village, there was still an ineffable sadness about the attitude of the people there, not so much on the surface, which was always polite and friendly, but somehow more deep-rooted and harder to spot – yet nevertheless omnipresent.

I took a path that lead away from the village, which was something like a quiet winding country lane.  I passed a memorial for the tsunami victims and was reminded of the disaster a few Christmases ago and no doubt the primary reason for the lingering depression of the locals. 

The path wound around in a slow circle and in the middle of the loop was an area that can only be described a ravaged wasteland.  The place was a graveyard for boats that had been swept into the area and landlocked, a home for bits of unidentified debris, wood, tree roots without any trees attached, and of course sand – lots of sand.

I was surprised to see an army of palm trees without any tops on them poking up in front of the horizon.  It’s a funny thing – a palm tree without its leaves or fruit—  It’s rather disconcerting seeing the decapitation of a tree that usually has so many good connotations.  I mean – who ever felt bad looking at a palm tree in its full glory? 

Palms trees typically have old leaf scars forming a regular pattern on the trunk.  These scars are evidence of growth and prosperity, like the rings inside a tree trunk or the wrinkles on an old man’s face.  But these headless trees had the scars of violence – an ugly, unnatural and oddly shocking sight.  I counted five, ten, twenty – a whole settlement of trees without their heads on.  And since they were all located on the lowest ground, far below the path in a kind of dry marsh, I could only conclude that they had been brutally beheaded by the onrushing  tsunami.

It is interesting to remember that the palm leaf was once a symbol of victory and was used as an award to champions in sport and war.  Indeed Palm Sunday is thus named due to Jesus’ victory of entering into Jerusalem; and in Judaism, the palm tree also represents peace and plenty.  It is therefore ironic that these leafless trees were representative of exactly the opposite of these popular iconic ideas – these trees, conversely, signified that of defeat, of destruction, and of poverty. 

Indeed, the path was replete with evidence that this was an area hit particularly badly.  A couple of country-cottage styled stone houses had been battered and were now in ruin.  One of the outside walls had a shocking hole in it like it had been hit with a sledgehammer or a wrecking ball.  It really brought home the sheer power of what those immense waves must have been like.  Another had been rebuilt and had people living in it – but it was still highly damaged and obviously the family there had no choice but to simply get on with it and do their best.

After returning back to the mainland of Phuket, there was yet more evidence of the after effects of the tsunami, especially around Patang beach where a lot of construction was going on and there was still evidence of much accumulated damage and debris.  But most of all, there was that feeling again of a deep sadness held by the local people – quite similar to the atmosphere in places like Bali where the populace have had to deal with other, no less painful tragedies, caused by terrorism.  Indeed, the jury is still out as to whether the actions of humans directly led to or contributed in some way to this disaster.  Some say that the destruction of coral reefs and trees along the coastlines of South-East Asia contributed to the destruction as they would have previously acted as barriers and shielded some of the waves.  Others point to global warming and the proliferation of natural disasters in recent years being a warning of more to come.

In any case, I came away from Thailand with a sense of what had gone on there and a resounding empathy of the feelings of the people who must still think about what happened there as if it were yesterday.  Although it has been largely hidden away, if you are willing to look the scars are still there – both physically, and emotionally.  But the industry goes on, as it must, and paradise is still there, albeit - it is an Eden that is now tainted with sorrow.

Illustration by Bob Veon
(Bob Veon's Website)

Read more about the author of this story:
Jason Gaskell

Issue Contents | Next Story