Run! The water is coming!

Run! The water is coming!

Nani Afrida, The Jakarta Post, Banda Aceh

There is this shout that still keeps ringing in my ears: "Run!!
The water's coming!!"

Sunday morning began hotter than usual -- the sun was really
bright at just 7:50 a.m. At home I was enjoying coffee and
reading the local daily Serambi Indonesia. Sunday is when young
people head for Ulee Lhee beach, only five kilometers from the
town. After swimming they would usually have a picnic on the
beach with food from home.

Suddenly my newspaper shook in my hands, and the shaking
became increasingly stronger. I ran out of the house with my two
younger siblings -- along with neighbors. We shouted His name --
La illaha illallah (There is no God but Allah). The quake got
stronger and we clutched on to one another. Water in the gutters
shook and spilled over.

The shouts grew louder amid the sound of a tree cracking,
ready to crash. Neighbors hugged one another, some crying. This
lasted for several minutes. It left cracked walls and pale faces.
No one went into their homes. We live about six kilometers from
the beach.

Half an hour later another quake occurred and everyone was
hysterical, though it was of a lesser strength. I felt very
worried. Quakes are common in Aceh, but not like the first.

I wanted to see the situation outside -- and shortly after
passed thousands of people shrieking in panic.

"Run!! The water is coming!!"

People were moving in all sorts of vehicles heading out of
town. Everyone was carrying a bundle of clothing or rice. Screams
and crying infants filled the air.

I rushed home; there were other, lesser tremors and we
remained outside.

I ventured out at 11 a.m.; God, the whole town, every corner,
was a devastating ruin. I learnt later of the wave, the tsunami
that must have hit the entire town of Banda Aceh, because there
was no water left -- just black, knee-high, mud.

In the Lamteumen district near the beach, all homes had been
crushed by the wall of water. There were several bodies lodged
between planks of wood inside the houses.

Only then did I realize this was really serious. There were
more and more bodies, likely killed in the wave, not the
earthquake.

Further away in the nearby area of Peuniti, hundreds of
corpses were lined up along the road near the Krueng Aceh river.

It was all chaos. Everyone was in a state of panic. Aceh's
capital had been entirely destroyed, with dozens of bodies lying
around the front of Baitur Rahman mosque, the town's landmark and
the pride of its townspeople.

Fishing boats had suddenly emerged, stranded in the middle of
the town brought in by the wave -- while dozens of vehicles were
wrecked.

In just a few minutes thousands had lost their families. This
must be what Judgment Day looks like, with hysterical screams and
thousands of people looking for their loved ones, everywhere.

I was absolutely sure that these bodies included the youth who
would have been playing by the beach, fishermen, residents living
up to at least two kilometers away from the coast, passengers of
speedboats heading for the tourist destination of Weh island --
and I shivered at the thought.

One survivor said the wall of water coming out of the sea
toward him reached up to 25 meters. He said he hugged a pillar of
his house. The rest of it was gobbled up by the wave.
He still has his wife, but lost his grandmother.

Another local had escaped with his family in a car, only to
get trapped in the giant wave. He lost his wife and two children.

Back home, we spent the night in the dark, in the terror of
more tremors and the waves. Once every hour a tremor reoccurred
and we ran outside.

The rest has been told. Until now we are always listening,
always on the alert. For we fear we may not save ourselves if we
don't hear the signals that we must watch out for.

Nani left Banda Aceh "to seek solace," she told a friend, and
then headed for Medan in North Sumatra. Before that she tried to
track down her media colleagues, asking everyone who knew them,
and sent news of who was missing, who was safe and who had lost
relatives. From Medan she wrote in an e-mail, "Again, I've been
permitted to rejoin all of you (she was feared to be lost forever
when joining an attempt to free cameraman Ferry Santoro from
members of the Free Aceh Movement in May). Thank you for your
support and prayers. This is all very terrifying for me; but I
will return to Aceh, if only to cover what is left."