'As you were playing in the sea without a care, you were taken. We did not know that you had come into this world to be part of a tsunami. Waves, why have you taken away my children?'
--In the days after the tsunami wreaked its havoc--even as rebuilding began--grief was evident throughout the region: on faces, even on signs such as the above entreaty to the sea, posted on the wall of a church.

Rebuilding Hope Among Devastated People

by Steve Weir

Steve Weir, Habitat for Humanity's vice president for the Asia/Pacific region, processes the devastation surrounding him in Banda Aceh, Indonesia.

When I stood in Banda Aceh, Indonesia, I saw nothing but utter devastation. It was impossible to visualize in that sea of rubble a shoreline that only days before was alive with people cooking and washing clothes and otherwise pursuing their regular routines, of children drawing in the sand, laughing, swimming. In minutes, a tsunami reduced those routines to a littered landscape, leaving in the sand only evidence of life interrupted: a muddy tricycle on top of twisted metal, a plastic patio chair impaled on exposed steel.

I saw the ruins of houses where people once rested after fishing all day, and smelled the stench of death mixed with the exhaust from bulldozers, whose motors coughed as arms foraged through the wreckage, clearing a path, collecting bodies. Two miles from the beach I saw an off-shore oil rig shaft driven into the rubble like a candle into a birthday cake.

I have seen the effects of many disasters, but nothing could have prepared me for the sights, smells and sounds that overcame me as I toured the destruction unleashed upon Aceh.

When the waves struck on Dec. 26, I had already begun a Christmas vacation with my family in Sri Lanka, a kind of reunion in that country, which 10 years earlier had been our home. Our first indication that something was wrong was when the driver we had hired for a planned vacation was unable to meet us. Other needs for him, and for us, became suddenly more pressing--like homes and families washed out to sea.

Despite the abruptness with which the waves assaulted the region, the disaster's scope emerged slowly over the course of a few days. I heard warnings on the radio, but nothing official. We didn't know what to think. In time, the impact revealed itself, and Habitat began assessing the damage and planning an appropriate response. Since that first emergency meeting with Habitat's national board in Sri Lanka, I have witnessed the very best in people and I've lamented the very worst.

In the days following, resettlement camps and makeshift shelters sprouted up everywhere, but life in the camps often provided little relief to the families. These temporary tent camps became fertile ground for potential disease and lawlessness--a chaotic cover for a few wishing to profit from the misery of many.

The hardship here is unfathomable. Yet people have come together in ways never before imagined. I spoke with a group of people from varying religious backgrounds. One man in the group spoke of the differences among them regarding notions of proper burial. Then he spoke of the common ground on which they all found themselves: "We can all argue about the proper means of burial, but in a matter of minutes, we all lost family members--and the tsunami buried them all in exactly the same way."

	A tsunami survivor in Galle, Sri Lanka, beautifies his tent before permanent housing is built in its place. He says: "While we're here, we might as well do as much as we can to make the best of it."

So many people in this region now share the same fate: an urgent need for relief and compassion, for food and water and--in order to reclaim some sense of place and permanence--shelter.

In the midst of such misfortune, or perhaps because of it, people are setting aside differences to restore their communities. As strong as the tsunami proved, it was not powerful enough to quell the human spirit in the hearts of those who survived.

It is in that spirit that Habitat for Humanity has intensified its efforts to rebuild. Over the next two years, through such innovative programs as Save & Build and First Shelter, we plan to help at least 25,000 families secure decent housing. We'll do this by working with other partners in the affected countries. One immediate goal is to provide a modest one-room "core house" that is safe, solid and affordable--and one which a family can expand as their need, circumstances and resources allow.

A chief aim for us is to remain flexible, because in the wake of this disaster people's needs and surrounding environment change daily. Our Building Center model provides that flexibility as well as technical expertise. It also creates livelihood development opportunities in the building trades. By expanding these centers, we'll expand our capacity to improve lives--and the capacity of other partners to do the same.

The impact here is fundamental, because not only have people lost loved ones, but they've lost livelihoods as well, so any answer we deliver must itself be fundamental. And it seems to me that we can hardly begin on a level more basic than housing. In fact, we've already begun, having broken ground in January on the first Habitat for Humanity recovery houses.

The devastation in these coastal communities is complete. And despite the loss, the heartache, the despair-or maybe because of it--so has been our response.

--Steve Weir