Time
Right before Christmas, I watched this Discovery special about the tsunami and my lord it wrenched my heart. In case you are not a current events, news-watching dude, you may need to know that the one-year anniversary of the Asian tsunami was two days ago.
I remember waking up on December 26 last year and hearing about the tsunami. Tsunamis, first off, are one of those things you always hear about and know exist and can happen, but they never do... kind of like earthquakes in Kentucky (December 1990, anyone??). But my God, that day it had actually happened--a tsunami! I remember that whomp feeling that I felt that morning when the broadcaster said 10,000 were feared dead.
In America, we inflate numbers ahead of time so that we're relieved when things come out so much better. September 11, 2001, broadcasters used numbers in the 10,000 and plus range. Remember after Hurricane Katrina, they feared 10,000 may be dead along the Gulf Coast. Rather, it was something more on the order of 1400. We, America, initially exaggerated by about 86% in the Katrina-wake so that when it was all over, things weren't as bad as they seemed those two days that we watched people being picked up off of rooftops by helicopters like seashells from a waveline.
But the tsunami killed around 250,000 people. They initially put out a number that seemed huge, yet only accounted for 4% of the actual human loss. Now, the whomp. The real whomp that you can't justify even after a year of seperation.
On this Discovery special, there were stories of children. One child, who was maybe ten years old and had lost his entire family, appeared intermittently throughout the show. He seemed to just wander even as he was interviewed--over debris, along the water's edge, through town--as if he were looking for something. And, I'm sure he is. Where does a small child go after losing not only his home, but his family? Here, a family would adopt the child. But there, not necessarily.
In another story, a father was interviewed. He had lost his wife, son, and daughter. They were all together that day, riding the train to the beach. At the last stop before the coast town, the train stopped and some people got on and some people got off and the man's family sat there and waited for that moment. As the train pulled out of the station, the man's son said to him, "I won't come back here." A few minutes later, as the train headed into lower ground near the coast, it met the wave. The train of course was washed off its tracks. The man's family was caught in one of the waves. His son was right.
And it brings up questions of intuition. How is it some animals sense the danger, but we, the dominant species, stand on the beach as a tourist with our camera and watch the ocean recede and when our wife asks, "Do you think it has something to do with the earthquake?" say "nahhh!" and then you see the sea far away getting rough and wonder--as one footage of film from the Discovery special shows us. The rough sea rises. Boats out off the shore capsize. And then seconds later, we're fleeing, us humans, not knowing until it was staring us in the face--death. But the child knew. Somehow. He felt something. And so did others--the animals that fled inland and upland. They knew.
On an island where an ancient tribe lives in a lowland that was most certainly destroyed by the tsunami, a film crew went to see if any of them survived. In fact, the entire tribe did. They knew. They knew that when the sea goes down, humans must go uphill. They had this great analogy that is their dogma. They believe the Earth sits in a big tree and when the Gods are mad, they shake the tree (earthquakes). When the big tree shakes the Earth moves in it. All the water spills to one side (the sea going down) and then the Gods stop shaking the tree and all the water comes sloshing back (the tsunami). It sounds naive, but these were the people that knew how to save themselves. What's naive is the poor man who said, "nahhh." But that, is really me if I'm there. I'm a tourist. I've never known of a tsunami actually happening. I've just heard of them. And I don't know the warning signs. So I watch it, this wonder of the tropical Earth. The locals are out there. It is safe. But, no.
All of this talk of the tsunami prefaces simply what I felt I wanted to say. A year has passed and it's time to reflect on things. It is what calendars allow us to do. We measure time and compare and contrast our situations and it depresses us more times than not, but I have nothing to be depressed about except for 4% becoming 100% and so in my small world, 600 feet safely above sea level, I feel lucky and happy and sorrowful for that little boy who is now without a home and a family and for the man who lost his son and his wife and daughter. And I feel a secret admiration for the naiveness of the old tribe and the simplicity of their beliefs that sustain them. And, I realize a year ago, I was taking the GRE and now I've got graduate school a third over and the rest mapped out in front of me and Yann Tiersen is singing, "This train is rolling on, this train is rolling on" in a rare switch-over to English and I simply say to all out there this:
It's the end of a year. Reflect. Reflect cautiously. Give thanks. Remember the world maybe does sit in a tree. Challenge your thinking. Expand your thinking. And though this year wasn't bad, make next year better. Happy New Year.
I remember waking up on December 26 last year and hearing about the tsunami. Tsunamis, first off, are one of those things you always hear about and know exist and can happen, but they never do... kind of like earthquakes in Kentucky (December 1990, anyone??). But my God, that day it had actually happened--a tsunami! I remember that whomp feeling that I felt that morning when the broadcaster said 10,000 were feared dead.
In America, we inflate numbers ahead of time so that we're relieved when things come out so much better. September 11, 2001, broadcasters used numbers in the 10,000 and plus range. Remember after Hurricane Katrina, they feared 10,000 may be dead along the Gulf Coast. Rather, it was something more on the order of 1400. We, America, initially exaggerated by about 86% in the Katrina-wake so that when it was all over, things weren't as bad as they seemed those two days that we watched people being picked up off of rooftops by helicopters like seashells from a waveline.
But the tsunami killed around 250,000 people. They initially put out a number that seemed huge, yet only accounted for 4% of the actual human loss. Now, the whomp. The real whomp that you can't justify even after a year of seperation.
On this Discovery special, there were stories of children. One child, who was maybe ten years old and had lost his entire family, appeared intermittently throughout the show. He seemed to just wander even as he was interviewed--over debris, along the water's edge, through town--as if he were looking for something. And, I'm sure he is. Where does a small child go after losing not only his home, but his family? Here, a family would adopt the child. But there, not necessarily.
In another story, a father was interviewed. He had lost his wife, son, and daughter. They were all together that day, riding the train to the beach. At the last stop before the coast town, the train stopped and some people got on and some people got off and the man's family sat there and waited for that moment. As the train pulled out of the station, the man's son said to him, "I won't come back here." A few minutes later, as the train headed into lower ground near the coast, it met the wave. The train of course was washed off its tracks. The man's family was caught in one of the waves. His son was right.
And it brings up questions of intuition. How is it some animals sense the danger, but we, the dominant species, stand on the beach as a tourist with our camera and watch the ocean recede and when our wife asks, "Do you think it has something to do with the earthquake?" say "nahhh!" and then you see the sea far away getting rough and wonder--as one footage of film from the Discovery special shows us. The rough sea rises. Boats out off the shore capsize. And then seconds later, we're fleeing, us humans, not knowing until it was staring us in the face--death. But the child knew. Somehow. He felt something. And so did others--the animals that fled inland and upland. They knew.
On an island where an ancient tribe lives in a lowland that was most certainly destroyed by the tsunami, a film crew went to see if any of them survived. In fact, the entire tribe did. They knew. They knew that when the sea goes down, humans must go uphill. They had this great analogy that is their dogma. They believe the Earth sits in a big tree and when the Gods are mad, they shake the tree (earthquakes). When the big tree shakes the Earth moves in it. All the water spills to one side (the sea going down) and then the Gods stop shaking the tree and all the water comes sloshing back (the tsunami). It sounds naive, but these were the people that knew how to save themselves. What's naive is the poor man who said, "nahhh." But that, is really me if I'm there. I'm a tourist. I've never known of a tsunami actually happening. I've just heard of them. And I don't know the warning signs. So I watch it, this wonder of the tropical Earth. The locals are out there. It is safe. But, no.
All of this talk of the tsunami prefaces simply what I felt I wanted to say. A year has passed and it's time to reflect on things. It is what calendars allow us to do. We measure time and compare and contrast our situations and it depresses us more times than not, but I have nothing to be depressed about except for 4% becoming 100% and so in my small world, 600 feet safely above sea level, I feel lucky and happy and sorrowful for that little boy who is now without a home and a family and for the man who lost his son and his wife and daughter. And I feel a secret admiration for the naiveness of the old tribe and the simplicity of their beliefs that sustain them. And, I realize a year ago, I was taking the GRE and now I've got graduate school a third over and the rest mapped out in front of me and Yann Tiersen is singing, "This train is rolling on, this train is rolling on" in a rare switch-over to English and I simply say to all out there this:
It's the end of a year. Reflect. Reflect cautiously. Give thanks. Remember the world maybe does sit in a tree. Challenge your thinking. Expand your thinking. And though this year wasn't bad, make next year better. Happy New Year.
posted by Derick | 11:48 PM
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