The Tsunami of last December changed
us all. The images of devastation and
human suffering found their way into our living rooms and our hearts and the generous outpouring of support which followed was a testament to the character of our people. As I watched the story unfold I was especially affected by images of India. As a young man I had traveled there to work as a volunteer in a Jesuit leprosy relief program. My skills were limited then and I promised myself that I would go back someday as a physician when I had more to offer. It seemed like the time had come. My Jesuit friends put me in contact with a Father AJX Bosco, an Indian Jesuit who was organizing relief efforts, and I sent him an email offering my services. The response was brief: "Yes, please come, fly to Hyderabad." With this uncertainty, an expired passport, a wife and three daughters, a busy practice, and a house under construction the idea of actually going seemed a bit crazy. But sometimes things seem to fall into place. With the support of my family, friends and colleagues I found myself a short while later on a plane to India.

Father Bosco had been in contact with the Catholic Health Association of India (CHAI) who had joined forces with the Sister Doctors Forum of India (SDFI) to do Tsunami relief work in the southeastern coastal area of Tamil Nadu state. I was invited to join their team and after a short rest in Hyderabad I was on my way to the coast. CHAI and SDFI had been working in the area since the day after the Tsunami. Initially they had assisted with acute trauma care, mass tetanus immunizations, securing a clean supply of clean water and emergency shelter, and the grizzly work of cleaning up and burying the thousands of bodies. As more people arrived they were organized into mobile teams and sent out to the villages to set up medical clinics and attend to the social and psychological needs of the affected people. When I arrived a couple of weeks after the tsunami I joined one of the teams and the next day went to work.

We were based in a village called Vaillankani in the Nagapattinum area, which was hardest hit by the Tsunami. Vaillankani is the site of a famous Catholic Cathedral built on the site where the Virgin Mary is believed to have twice appeared to the local villagers some 500 years ago. The Cathedral was miraculously spared but at least a thousand pilgrims died on the beach just outside it when the Tsunami came. Our group took up residence in a retreat house next to the Cathedral. Most of the coastal inhabitants had lived in simple fishing villages, in huts made of brick and mud. They made their living from the sea, using anything from large ocean going vessels to simple dug out canoes. Life was simple but they seemed content. They had plenty of fish, they grew a little rice and some vegetables, and they used their goats and cows for milk and sometimes meat. They had family and real community and most people lived out their lives just as their ancestors had. In some places the modern world had arrived, with electricity, running water, motorcycles, cars, even cell phones; while in others it was as if time had stood still for centuries.

When the tsunami came all of this was taken away. Entire villages were reduced to rubble. 13,000 people were dead and those who survived were left with little hope. Almost no one had insurance, few had bank accounts, and whatever wealth they had was in their homes, their boats, their livestock, or their jewelry. Government agencies and Non Government Organizations (NGO’s) were doing an admirable job providing emergency aid. Temporary shelters, rudimentary structures framed with sticks lashed together with rope and finished with corrugated tin walls, were being built. Entire families would be housed in a 10 x 10, dirt floored room. Some had electricity (a single light bulb) and a few had rudimentary propane camp stoves. Others cooked over open fires in front of their rooms. Drinking water tanks were brought in and in some places a community toilet (outhouse) was in place. Food was being brought in to most villages and supplies of all kinds had been donated but the distribution was inconsistent, sadly affected by local politics, corruption, and greed. Some villages got more than they needed while others got virtually nothing.

Unlike other Tsunami affected areas, the health care infrastructure was intact. Local government hospitals and clinics were attempting to meet the enormous needs but they were overwhelmed. Much of the emergency medical support had left by the time I arrived. The government was sending out some medical teams but they had limited resources and were unlikely to make it to some of the more remote and lower caste villages at all. Other NGO’s were offering assistance but CHAI and SDFI had made the largest commitment, especially to the poor and the marginalized. They are an amazing group of people! Mostly nuns, all volunteers, they embody the Christian ideal of service to the poor and suffering. Though we saw about 100 patients a day, the Sisters and others attended to each person individually, with dignity and respect, regardless of caste or creed. Unfortunately, the Indian caste system is alive and well, condemning many, many people to lives of the most desperate poverty. There are whole villages of so called dalits, untouchables of the lowest caste, who live in the most miserable of conditions. They are only able to get work as day laborers in the worst of jobs, they are disenfranchised politically, and they have essentially no hope for advancement. Our group stumbled upon one such village while I was there called Poovanthoppu, commonly known as Salt Street.

Poovanthoppu is a village of 106 families, all dalits. The adults, both men and women, work half the year as laborers in salt fields 7 days a week from 4 am to 7 pm for about 75 cents a day. The other half of the year there is no work and they subsist on their goats and a few basic crops. The land is not fertile so they can only grow a little rice and some vegetables. Only the leader of the village has electricity (a single light bulb and a beat up radio,) no one has running water or toilets. They live in simple mud and brick huts which are falling apart. The only access is via a narrow, rutted dirt road. The children are left on their own all day and if they go to school at all they have to walk 2 km to grade school and 5 km for secondary school. When they do go to school they are treated like outcasts by the other children. Only one child had shoes, a pair of western sandals someone had given him. They are systematically kept in poverty by those around them, condemned only by the misfortune of their birth. Though their constitution grants them equal rights, ancient customs supersede the law. They have essentially no representation and whenever they have tried to bargain for better wages or working conditions they have been thrown off the job. With no other work available they literally begin to starve within days and are forced to go back to work. Health care is virtually non existent. If they can find a private doctor who will see them, they cannot afford the care. The government has free hospitals but they are far away and no transportation is available. Most of the children have chronic worm infestations and are anemic and malnourished. A child of 10 may look 6 while a woman of 50 my look 70. It is a very hard life.

Poovanthoppu is just far enough away from the sea to have escaped the water and no lives were lost. No homes were destroyed but all the goats were killed, their rice crops were ruined and the salt fields where they worked were flooded. When our group arrived a couple of weeks after the tsunami the people were literally starving. Teams went out and attended to medical needs and some food and basic supplies were brought in, but CHAI is a medical relief organization and did not have the resources to do all that was necessary. They began working with the government and a few trucks were sent out but most of the materials were being diverted by surrounding villages. It became apparent that a comprehensive rescue plan was necessary to save these people from this desperate situation. On my visit to this village I was overwhelmed to see such profound poverty and suffering. I am haunted by the words of one of the village leaders as he talked of their plight: "I wish the tsunami would come again and take us all because we have nothing to live for." I told my wife, Lisa this story that night and she immediately said we should adopt this village. I approached CHAI with this idea, they were very receptive and are prepared to stay on and do the work in Poovanthoppu now. They know its not enough simply to give money so they are prepared stay on for as long as is necessary to rebuild this village and give these people some hope for a better life. All we would need to do is come up with the cash.

These people are truly the poorest of the poor. They will not be receiving any aid from the government or other charitable organizations because they were not directly affected by the tsunami. They are in need of basic necessities like housing, a sustainable source of clean drinking water and an adequate supply of food. They need access to decent, affordable health care, good sanitation and better educational opportunities for their children. They will of course continue to suffer the shame and injustice which is the birthright of the dalit and it is unlikely we can change that. It is also unlikely we can impact on their working conditions or their wages. But we can help. On one trip to the mall we may spend more than the annual salary of these people. CHAI is a solid organization with the right set of values and a strong commitment to these people. They are well organized, frugal and practical and they know how to work within the Indian system to get things done. Stretched thin by the tsunami and other activities
all over India, they simply lack the financial resources to undertake this project at this time.