The Third Wave_ A Volunteer Story - Alison Thompson [20]
We found the yellow pages, which were actually white, and searched for car rentals. It turned out that there were streets full of rentals close by, so we set off on foot to find a vehicle. After much negotiating and heckling over what in the end was only an extra dollar a day (it sounded like thousands in rupees), we rented a minivan that came with a non-English-speaking Sri Lankan driver. We packed the van with food and water bought from a local supermarket in Colombo and waited anxiously for our driver to meet us at the agreed-upon time of 4 a.m. He arrived two hours late, but at least he made it, and we started driving down the coast to find the tsunami disaster zone. At last, we could get to work.
Australians are loud. I should know: I am one. But Donny was louder than any Australian I had ever known, and he never stopped talking. He had a voice that could be heard in outer space. As he jabbered on for the entire ride down the coast, the rest of us sang along to James Taylor on the van radio as the sun was rising.
It wasn’t long until we came upon what used to be the Sri Lankan coastal villages. Everything was gone, like some giant monster had come through and demolished the place. I felt as though I was standing at the gates of hell on September 11 again, only this time there were still people alive whom I could help.
Villagers wandered around looking sad, desperate, and lost. Donny asked if we could stop for a while. We walked around the rubble asking people if they were okay. Donny yelled out, “How are you, machan!” (“Machan” is an old English term that means “my friend.”) People cracked a smile as he offered them a cigarette or candy. We didn’t have enough water or food for everyone, so Donnie’s gifts, a bag of airplane toothbrushes, and big smiles were all we had to give that day. Soon Donny was surrounded by fifty desperate people grabbing at him to get at the goods he was passing out. It was quite a frightening experience and I motioned to the driver to start the van in case we had to make a quick getaway. But the crowd died down when they saw he had nothing left.
Donny and I opened our first aid kits and attended to basic medical needs. It was 105 degrees and Donny was melting over everyone. He bandaged an old man’s leg with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth and sweat dripping off his head. Throughout the day, Donny proved to be a caring and competent medic, and I was relieved to have him by my side. Oscar did what he did best: He started performing magic tricks and break-dancing for the children. Bruce listened even though he couldn’t understand what people were saying and beamed love all around. He had a gleam in his eye that could soothe anyone.
After hours of hot, sweaty work, we continued driving down the coast in a quiet state of shock. Hundreds of miles of coastline were destroyed and starving people sat around everywhere. Where was the help? Where was the government? Where were the aid groups and the NGOs?
It had been ten days since the tsunami, and we felt very alone.
This was Oscar’s first volunteering experience. He had always wanted to do something like this but didn’t know how. In those first days, he was excited and nervous. He chain-smoked, not knowing what he was supposed to be doing, but soon felt more at ease performing magic tricks for the children. Donny was retired from the Army and living in the suburbs of Australia with his wife and three teenage kids. He had a restless soul and had a powerful calling to serve others. Bruce had sailed to Sri Lanka years earlier and had made a deep connection with the people, so he had wanted to come back to help them. He made it clear that