Tsunami

I was with family and friends on Boxing Day watching TV when we switched the channels and saw the news. Tsunamis had hit the coasts of Thailand, Sumatra, India, Malaysia, the Maldives, Myanmar and even East Africa.

The number of fatalities had climbed from 4,000 or so according to the news report that night, which then jumped to 13,000 dead the following day. Last I checked, the death toll had hit 23,000, many of whom were tourists. The bodies of families, lovers and little children drifted among the scattered wreckage littering shoreline and reefs.

People at school are strangely apathetic to the situation. Teachers buzz about, humming reminders of deadlines to come, of tests and assignments due. Most students I've talked to so far just shrug their shoulders and carry on the doings of their day. To them, life goes on I guess. But, shouldn't people FEEL something?

It's shocking how unaffected and detached we can be about it.

Due to the tsunamis and tidal waves, some Singaporeans had their flights cancelled. During the news report, some were interviewed. What they had to say was disappointing.

Complaints about the lack of refunds for their cancelled or delayed flights was the gist of 1 man's interview. Granted, he will lose some money, he won't have a good, sunny tan on a beautiful sun-swept beach. But compare that to say, another man, who's just seen his children dragged out to sea, presumably dead. Or another who sees his home, his livelihood destroyed before his very eyes.

Such absolute disregard for human life scares me.

I'm not quite sure what to think or feel myself.

Am I any better than any apathetic person on the street?

Was I only concerned about the tragedy because I have a friend who was in India at the time of the incident? While she was, thankfully, not near the coastal areas then, it was still a harrowing wait before we got any news from her.

On the other hand, it could have been my family or myself out there. If the new school semester hadn't started in December, a full month earlier than previously, I probably would have been in Phuket, Thailand, snorkeling or trawling the sand for seashells with my little sister. At low tide, you can walk along the sandbars, crossing the seabed and venturing across to certain other small islands. However, as mystical and beautiful as these natural bridges from one island to another were, there was also the constant threat of the tides closing back in, engulfing the sandbars beneath the waves once again.

My sister and I always made it a point to return well before the tides rose again. I can only imagine what it would have been like pacing along those sandbars, right before everything went crazy.

It's terrifying how despite the best of our intentions, despite our best-laid plans for the future, there's still always the risk that everything might be taken from us at a moment's notice.

::Shawn Toh::
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