On July 17, three enormous waves, tsunamis generated by an underwater earthquake, slammed into a twenty-mile stretch along the northern coast of the island nation of Papua New Guinea, killing over 2,000 people. On July 29, Liu King-pong, editor-in-chief of the Tzu Chi Quarterly, joined a fact-finding mission organized by several Taiwanese charity organizations to gain first-hand experience of the disaster.

"Are you excited about your trip to Papua New Guinea?" asked Doug Shaw, the American editor of our foreign language publications department.

"Not really," I answered after pondering for a while. It was the morning of July 29, 1998. In a few hours, my colleague, Hsieh Ching-kuei, and I would fly to that "forgotten land out of the Stone Age."

A Fact-Finding Trip

We were not going on vacation. We would be on a fact-finding trip along with representatives from three other local charity foundations-Buddha's Light, Ming Daw and World Vision-to collect first-hand information about the survivors of three tsunamis (tidal waves) that ripped through Papua New Guinea's northwest coast on July 17. We had learned from local and international news reports that this Pacific nation's worst natural disaster had killed at least 2,000 people, mostly children and elderly. The toll was likely to rise further every day. We still wanted to see the real situation there before we decided which fields of the relief program we could participate in.

The airplane took off from Chiang Kai-shek International Airport at four in the afternoon. After brief stopovers in Hong Kong and Cairns, Australia, we arrived at Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea, at eight the next morning.

We were met at the airport by Dr. Hsu Chang-heng, representative of the Trade Mission of the Republic of China on Taiwan, and local Taiwanese business leaders. After checking in at the Travelodge, we were led to the office of the trade mission, where Dr. Hsu and his executive assistant, Peter Lin, briefed us about the current situation of the survivors of the tidal waves.

The death toll so far was 2,123 and this figure was expected to increase as more dead bodies were recovered from the Sissano lagoon and the mangrove swamp. Mr. Lin informed us that 10,068 survivors had been identified and 1,131 people had been treated at hospitals in Aitape, Vanimo and Wewak since the waves swept over a string of small fishing villages. The arrival of new medical teams from Australia and New Zealand meant that the hospitals were adequately staffed and there were sufficient medical supplies. The biggest problem lying ahead was how to resettle the people in new places and provide them with the means to rebuild their lives.

"Air Agony"

Dr. Hsu arranged for all the members of the delegation to meet that afternoon with Simon Kaumi, minister of the interior and provincial affairs. Dr. Hsu first explained the intentions of the group, and then a representative of each of our four organizations said a few words to the minister.

"We are from the Tzu Chi Foundation, and we have brought the love and concern of our people in Taiwan to the victims of the tsunamis," I said. I mentioned that our members in Australia had already purchased a US$100,000 image intensifier, which would soon be delivered to the X-ray department at Boram Hospital in Wewak, a town located not too far from the disaster area. The hospital is affiliated with Mater Misericordiae Hospital in Brisbane, Queensland, where Australian Tzu Chi members have been helping for several years. We wanted to visit Boram Hospital, and we wanted to find out how else we could help according to the real needs of the tsunami survivors.

After hearing all of our statements, Minister Kaumi accepted our kind offers on behalf of his government. He also asked us to convey his gratitude to the government and people of Taiwan.

Ching-kuei and I got up at half past three the next morning to catch the five thirty flight that would take us to Wewak. I could not believe it when the Air Niugini clerk told us to get to the airport before four. Since it would take us only ten minutes to get to the airport from the hotel, why did we need to get there that early?

"You'd better do as she said," warned a staff member from the trade mission. "It takes much longer to check in here. When the departure time comes, they will close the counter no matter how many people are still queued up."

We boarded the plane at five thirty. However, there was no sign that the plane was preparing to take off. Everybody waited quietly in the stuffy cabin. When I looked at my watch, it was already six. I started to worry about Sister Irene, the Catholic nun who was to pick us up at Wewak airport and take us to Boram Hospital. I complained to the flight attendant that the delay would inconvenience our friend waiting in Wewak. "Oh, just let her wait," shrugged the attendant.

The pilot finally paged us to get off the plane, because a warning lamp in the cockpit was out of order and the mechanic had not come to work yet. After an hour's wait, we were transferred to another plane. An Australian businessman sitting beside me shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, that's why I think of Air Niugini as Air Agony." By the time we arrived in Wewak, it was ten o'clock.

An Adventure

Sister Irene came to meet us as she promised. We immediately apologized to her for keeping her waiting so long. "Well, I'm used to it," she smiled.

A man suddenly approached us. "Are you from Taiwan?" When we nodded our heads, he introduced himself as Peter Maginde, deputy emergency controller for the disaster. He explained that he had received instructions from the foreign ministry to arrange transportation for Ching-kuei and myself to Aitape. "You can take that plane there." He pointed to the sky at a plane that was just about to land. Thus, instead of going with Sister Irene to Boram Hospital, Ching-kuei and I took this unexpected opportunity and hopped into the eighteen-seat plane.

After a forty-minute flight, the plane landed in Aitape. When I stepped down from the plane, I saw quite a few people, blacks and whites, standing under trees. There was of course no terminal building. I felt thrilled to see this scene, which I could otherwise only see in a safari movie. The thrill quickly disappeared as I realized that Maginde had not sent anyone to meet us. People began to leave after having kissed good-bye to friends who boarded the airplane for the return flight. Fortunately, Ching-kuei had brought a satellite phone which we used to call Maginde in Wewak. He told us to try to get to town and ask for Mr. Baki, the assistant emergency controller.

With the help of a kind local truck driver, we managed to get to Mr. Baki's office. The road was truly a washboard. I could not help but laugh. Before I left Taipei, my colleague, Doug Shaw, who spent two years in New Guinea about twenty years ago, told me about the poor conditions of the roads. It seemed that the potholes had still never been filled in.

It was half past one when we got to Mr. Baki's office. I noticed that almost everyone, man or woman, was chewing betel nuts. Their red lips and stained teeth really reminded me of some of our folks in Taiwan who also have the betel-chewing habit. Mr. Baki was kind enough to arrange for us to take a helicopter to have a close look at the Sissano lagoon. We had hoped to get on at three thirty; however, the Australian pilot was busy ferrying supplies to the disaster area and only allowed us to board the helicopter at five. During that long wait, Hsieh and I talked to some of the survivors of the tidal waves.

An Ordeal

Brian Paimo was a teacher at a local primary school. He told us how he saved his son's life by holding him tightly by the wrist as he rolled in the water.

"Before the tidal waves came, the water in the ocean subsided and we could walk on the ocean bed," said Paimo as his son sat quietly beside him. "We could see a white light coming toward us from afar. As it came closer, it turned into a wall of water ten meters high. It sounded like a jet engine that was about to take off. It was too late for us to escape. It is really scary just to think about it."

Another man told us that the waves struck at half past six in the evening and people were in casual, loose-fitting clothes. The flood swept their clothes off them. People were embarrassed because they were naked and fled into the hills. Many could still be there, hiding in dense mangrove swamps. Authorities were trying to bring in dogs from the United States to sniff these people out so that they could be brought to safety.

I had a brief talk with the helicopter pilot. "May we take a quick look at the lagoon?" "Why?" "We are from a Taiwanese charity foundation, and we'd like to have a close look at the lagoon." The pilot solemnly replied, "All right, but only briefly. It's getting late." As we flew over the lagoon, we saw lots of debris floating on the water. When I thought that hundreds of bodies were still submerged under the dark blue water and being eaten by crocodiles and fish, my heart ached.

When we landed at the Wewak airport, it was already six. Sister Irene came toward us with a smiling face. "How long have you been waiting?" I asked. "Well, since three o'clock." Poor sister!

Boram Hospital

Sister Irene arranged for us to stay in a hostel located beside a beautiful beach. That evening, Sister Joseph, the director of Boram Hospital, picked us up and took us to the hospital. According to this sweet British sister, there were over two hundred badly injured patients in the hospital. Many of the victims had suffered badly broken bones and deep cuts from flying debris and coral, wounds which could easily become infected in the hot, humid, tropical conditions.

Sister Joseph introduced us as we entered each ward. "These two gentlemen are big donors to our hospital. Now they are here to see you. Is that okay?" We were greeted with the smiles of the patients. Many people had had their legs or arms amputated, but when we went up to them, they still smiled and waved to us. "They are strong people," Ching-kuei marveled.

"Be brave and don't give up," I said to an old man who suffered from bad fractures and a lung problem.

The sister said something to a young patient in Pidgin that made everyone there laugh. Out of curiosity, I asked her what she had said. "I told him to keep drinking water or I would beat him up."

Sister Joseph then expressed her gratitude to Tzu Chi for donating the image intensifier that they needed so badly. She had seventy patients with fractures waiting to be operated on, and with this machine surgery could be speeded up and less time would be wasted.

The Catholic church has been working among the poor in this area for fifty years. To me, all the priests and nuns are like bodhisattvas. I remember Master Cheng Yen once said that she did not care if people believed in other religions. What she really cared about was whether people believed in their religion sincerely and thoroughly. The Master believes that the basic element of each good religion is great love. A religion cannot be called a religion if it fails to bring love, joy and peace to its believers.

When Sister Joseph drove us back to the hostel, I shook hands with her through the window of the car. "I'm proud of what you have done," I said from the bottom of my heart.

Return Home

Surprisingly, the plane to Port Moresby was there on time at half past eight the next morning. At the Wewak airport, I bumped into Mr. Maginde, who was supposed to have arranged for someone to pick us up in Aitape. "I'm sorry, the man who should have met you came to Wewak. It was because of the poor communications in this area..."

"Oh, that's okay. We saw what we wanted to see in Aitape."

That afternoon in Port Moresby, we boarded the airplane that would take us home to Taiwan via Singapore. Through the window, I had one more glimpse of the nation that was so full of surprises. I prayed to all the bodhisattvas that New Guinea could be spared from all disasters and that the victims of the tidal waves could overcome the tragedy and gradually rebuild their shattered lives.

Epilogue