Fearing the worst
Monday, 6 May

An aerial view of devastation caused by the cyclone Nargis on Saturday 3 May, is seen at an unknown location in Myanmar, Tuesday, May 6, 2008. Myanmar's Irrawaddy delta, where nearly 22,000 people perished, remained largely cut off from the rest of the world. © AP Images

8:00 am. We are approaching Yangon and my mobile phone finally works again. My girlfriend, parents and children are all okay. I am extremely relieved. The house was destroyed, a tree fell on the roof and now it leaks, but no one was hurt. In Yangon, we see the destruction. Not one electricity pole or advertising sign still seems to be standing and almost all of the enormous, old, often 100 year old trees have been knocked down by the storm. Cars and buildings lie buried beneath branches and tree trunks. Our bus can’t go much farther so we walk the rest of the way. When I arrive home, I see my girlfriend. She also works for MSF. “We have to go to the office,” she says immediately, “it’s terrible in the Irrawaddy Delta.” Because of my concern for family and friends in Yangon, it hadn’t occurred to me that other parts of the country could be experiencing worse devastation. At the office, I hear more details. Whole villages have been wiped off the map by giant storm surges. Probably tens of thousands of people lack shelter and thousands have been killed. The medical coordinator and a doctor already left last night for the Delta region and are requesting more help. They need medical teams and material. As much as possible, as quickly as possible. A few hours later, I’m sitting in a car with two teams. We are met in Pathein by the medical coordinator. And then we get into a boat that will take us to the disaster area. We’ll arrive tomorrow morning.

Relief distribution
Wednesday, 8 May

“We have a problem,” shouts Cho Aung, one of the logisticians. “The army wants to distribute our rice.” We had already heard from the people that the army had given out some food in this area and was busy burying bodies. When I go to look, I see a few soldiers unloading our supply of rice. I ask them what they’re doing and the soldier in charge tells me that the army is organising distributions in this area and that they want to give out our food supplies. I ask to speak to their commander and, in a long conversation, explain that we are MSF and that we’ve come to help and that we are on our way to villages to distribute our own supplies. Finally, they agree and we get our supplies back. We are even thanked for our help.
A few hours later than planned, I get into a boat with four teams, medicine and supplies, heading for more remote villages along the coast.

Continuing fear
Friday, 10 May

As bad weather continues in the delta region, the population is frightened of further destruction. © MSF

The weather got worse last night. Our team tried to sleep in the supply tent we had set up in the village earlier in the day. But in the middle of the night, it was no longer possible. Soaked to the bone and cold from the storm and rain, we ran to a nearby house. The family that lived there had cooked for us earlier that evening. Everyone there was already awake: the father, mother, children and a little baby. They were frightened to death. Although it was the same sort of bad weather that happens a few times each year, now everyone was trembling with fear. “What will we do if the water comes back again, the panic, all those screaming people? We won’t flee again, this time we’re going to stay here and then we’ll just face dying.”

Survivor stories
Saturday, 11 May

We need to rent more boats. Every day the number of teams and amount of material grows and most places can only be reached by boat. I negotiate with a boat owner. He is a nice guy and is very glad to help us with our work. Just as all the other people here, he has a “I barely survived” story too, he says. “I have a salt-producing business farther up in the Delta and was there when the storm hit. The water rose so quickly—a meter every minute—on the salt flats. I started to swim and could just grab onto the top of a tree. In the beginning, I held on with both arms because the current was so strong. But soon I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to hold on like that. Then I just held on with one arm and if I got a cramp in that arm, I switched to the other one. My clothes had been torn off me long before that. The water was ice cold and my legs started to cramp. If I relieved myself in the water it was warm for a moment. I was fortunate. I was able to hang on for five hours. Out of my 200 staff, almost no one survived.”

Population in shock
Sunday, 12 May

MSF teams providing medical consultations in the delta region, about half of which were for cyclone-related injuries, while the remainder were for diarrhoea, fever and respiratory infections. © MSF

Everyone on our team sees an average of more than 200 patients a day and many people are in shock or are experiencing trauma. There are confused people still searching for their families, children who have lost their parents, parents who have watched their children drown. In the evenings, I sit with my colleagues and everyone tells what they’ve heard and seen during the day. It is difficult for everyone. We are all tired and we sleep poorly. “I can’t get the stench of the dead bodies out of my nose,” says one of the doctors. She spent a few hours sitting in a boat going through an area where there were many dead bodies and animal carcasses. The smells, the images and the people’s stories together form an overwhelming picture. I feel myself blocking it out. Tonight I went outside for a moment, I didn’t want to hear anything anymore.

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