Reflections on the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami

On Dec 26, 2004, more than 226,000 people woke up to the last morning of their lives after a catastrophic 9.1 megathrust earthquake struck off the coast of Aceh province, in North Sumatra, Indonesia.

The first 170,000 people would die here from its force and the ensuing tsunami the quake triggered from the ruptured sea floor (see graphic). ?

It was the third largest earthquake recorded since 1900. About 1,200 km of fault ruptured northwards, releasing a deadly natural force powerful enough to affect the planet’s rotation.? Without any early warning systems in the Indian Ocean, many countries were not prepared for what has been called a tele-tsunami despite knowledge of the earthquake. Deaths occurred as far as Yemen and South Africa.?More than 1.7 million people were displaced.

The seismic force caused an ensuing tsunami that was the worst in 600 years and spread to 14 countries from Sri Lanka to Somalia, from Myanmar to Maldives, from Thailand’s resort coast to Tamil Nadu in India. With waves as high as 51 metres and a power unimaginable, the death toll mounted in a tableau of horror on Boxing Day 20 years ago today.?

More than 1,500 perished in a train ride from Colombo to Matara, Sri Lanka’s (and the world’s) worst rail disaster. Another 30,000+ more died inland.?

In the Andaman sea, the seas retreated as much as 2.5 km drawing curious crowds on small islands to fatal effect.?

Yet natives of the Onge tribe in the Andaman as well as of Simeulue in Aceh survived as oral folklore warned them to identify signs of tsunamis (“giyangejebey” or 'land become water' in Onge language and “smong” in the Devayan language in Simeulue).?Across the region, mangroves and coral atolls slowed the inundation of debris-laden waves. Sea walls reduced death tolls. Otherwise, the destruction was unspeakable.?

When No News is the Worst News

As a journalist, the first clue that the disaster was catastrophic was that no news came from Serambi Indonesia newspaper in the capital, Banda Aceh, just data from the US Geological Survey website showing the force that struck. It meant to me that the Serambi reporters had perished. Less than a fifth of them – on the road for assignments or based in other districts – had survived and had no clue yet what happened in Banda Aceh.

In the aftermath, I would head to Banda Aceh not in my official capacity as the bureau chief of Bloomberg Indonesia, but as a volunteer armed with my reporting skills to interview five local NGOs with the help of a fixer, a translator and driver.

I packed 500 sarongs to give away, handy for a multitude of uses from forms of dressing to impromptu shower screens or changing screens, a makeshift cot to ferry the injured and the elderly, a carryall when a displaced family is on the move. We dressed to sleep even with our shoes and spectacles on, ready to run or jump down in any aftershock. (We were awoken from sleep with a 6.3 tremor and this instinct proved helpful).?

In many ways, my current job in humanitarian work started that day. You cannot unsee what you have seen. Many of my journalist peers felt the same and in the immediate aftermath and over the past two decades, have transitioned to humanitarian work, some in Ukraine and Gaza now. My current work in the movement of disaster relief workers and cargo with Airlink, Inc. covers Asia and the Pacific from Afghanistan and Myanmar down to the Pacific islands.

The Power of Advocacy

Back then, I was using my professional skills to write up reports for traumatised survivors to get grants for their local NGOs, cut off from the world for three decades due to a civil war that the catastrophe ironically ended with the Helsinki accord, in August 2005.

I would find myself welcome everywhere as they had trusted their own reporters throughout the civil conflict, and led me to the remains of Serambi news office to pay my respects. Persecuted by both sides during the conflict, in their stead now stood a tree with pencils hanging off them as memorials to their lives’ work ended abruptly by the forces of nature.

I felt an obligation to continue their work. From critical needs for water, sanitarian and hygiene products (WASH) to medical supplies, education to psycho-social support, this was a place with multiple needs.

I interviewed an imam running a madrasah (Islamic school) with 300 students that had doubled to 600 after taking in students from the coast who had never been in the mountains, nor studied in a madrasah. We discussed widows sewing uniforms for all 600 children to obliterate the distinction between “mountain kids” and “tsunami kids” while giving them comfort for losing their husband and own children.

I interviewed staff from a reproductive health clinic who told me a woman had just given birth when the earthquake occurred and ran with a bloody newborn in her arms, birth cord still attached. My first task was to get birthing equipment over for a mobile clinic. Pregnant women who have carried their child to term will give birth regardless of the conditions.

My translator had found her young child sitting on a rooftop caked in mud 3 days after the disaster, first presumed dead and now mute from the shock and unable to recognise her own kin. My driver was still seeking his lost kin, and taking on this assignment gave him a chance to work while seeking news.

I submitted my reports and was relieved to hear a European bank later disbursed $2.5 million to the reproductive health clinic. I learnt that day the power of advocacy and the power of local actors in any humanitarian crisis to respond effectively.

Impact on My Life

Two major events in my reporting life has led me down my current path in humanitarian work – the 2002 Bali terrorist attack and the 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami. Both changed my life permanently. I still cannot speak of the former, and of the latter, on this 20th anniversary, I was able to find some closure when attending conferences in Sri Lanka, Thailand and Indonesia this year as we seek clarity on what was done right in the aftermath and what lessons we have learnt to prepare for the next catastrophe.

I write this also to remember my peers, the 58 journalists of Serambi lost that day. And to remember the humanitarian workers (more than 200 killed in 2024) and journalists operating today in various conflict zones (more than 68 killed in 2024) - and to say definitively, that they should not be targeted and be allowed to do their work free from harassment and harm.

May all who were lost that day and since – accounted for or registered as missing – rest in peace.

May we all provide solidarity to those who need us the most in their most fragile moments.