I was the guest of friends from my church, who have a house in the countryside about 70 miles inland from the coast from Madras, on the day of the earthquake and ensuing tsunami.  We felt nothing of the earthquake, though in Madras itself people were startled by it at about 7:30 a.m.

Three years ago, there was a 5.8 earthquake about 60 miles offshore, which was felt in Madras.  This happened six months after the major quake in Gujurat.  At that time, people were terribly frightened because no earthquakes had happened in Madras since 1966, and the memory of the Gujurat disaster was fresh in people’s minds.  They did not remember at that time the difference between a small earthquake, which is what they experienced, and a major quake like the Gujurat one.

This time, it seems that people were not as startled as they were three years ago, for the quake appeared to be a mild one (1,200 miles from its epicenter) and afterwards went about their business.  The wave apparently took about two hours to reach the Indian coast from Sumatra, 1,200 miles away.

Not many here knew what a tsunami was or what its warning signs were but became wary when the sea receded quickly.  Most were alarmed enough that they ran away from the beach at that point, but many ran toward the beach, trying to figure out what they were witnessing.

Because we were in a village without television or, at first, even a radio, reliable information was difficult.  The report we got from friends in the village was that some high waves had caused some damage on a stretch of beach where the friends I was with live and that there was some other damage, too.  I think I will always remember the sudden realization, from looking at a world map I had with me, that a tsunami had likely hit, and there was no reason, since Sumatra is famously earthquake-prone (Krakatoa, after all, was nearby), why a tsunami should not be a likely occurrence one day in South India.

I remember thinking, “Why did no one see the map clearly before this?” 

We were warned that we should not come back to Madras the next day, but should stay in the country for further news.  We came back on Wednesday morning and went immediately to the neighborhood where my hosts live.  Everything looked quite strangely normal, except for the fact that fishing boats, usually kept near the high-water mark on the very wide beach, were up at the road, at least 1,000 feet from the sea. 

Entering the center of the city where I live about 500 feet from the beach, again the feeling was eerie.  Everything along the public area of the beach by Wednesday morning had been cleaned up, and the only signs of damage were some broken compound walls on the other side of the road from the sea.  The beach was empty of people, which is unusual.  The government had banned people from hanging out there until they were fairly certain that no more bodies would be washing up.  Even now, Jan. 7, only officials are allowed on the beach. 

Where is the help?

Lots of clothing and food poured in immediately after the extensive damage.  The Tamil Nadu state government, various nongovernmental organizations and the churches, and many individuals have been involved with relief efforts. The churches and smaller NGOs are working faster than anyone else.  I am responsible for receiving donations for organizations that have difficulty receiving foreign currency.

Up and down the coast, here and in every other place, fishing communities are the worst hit.  The diocese sponsored immediate relief to the worst-hit places, which in fact are not in Madras, but further south.  Cuddalore, a city of 500,000 in this diocese, 60 miles south of Madras, lost up to 1,000 people and displaced many thousands. 

The most concentrated efforts of this diocese will be in and around Cuddalore. 
The faces I encounter most directly affected by all this are of displaced fisherfolk from the settlement that was washed away opposite my house.  They have been holding protests every day since the government announced a relief plan of Rs (Rupees) 5000 per family.  Those charged by the government to distribute the money, mostly police, have been keeping Rs3,000 and giving the families Rs2,000. 

The families want this rectified.  It is doubtful that this will happen.  Faces here are angry rather than desperate.  The CSI Madras Diocese has set up four relief centers at the places most severely affected. There are problems getting these up and running, because the government is specifying what sort of aid is to be given by any church and is putting itself in charge of disbursement of money. 

However, despite the present problems, the work of the church is strong here, and the lives of everyone here have already begun to heal. That process will continue.

-- Randy Giles