Thit Ti- voice and piano student- 14-15 May 2008

At 7am, we met at Gitameit for our trip to Daydeye. After purchasing 100 bags of rice at Mingalardone Garden Housing and cooking oil, dried fish, salt, and tarps at Bayindaung, we went set off for Daydeye. As the truck was fully loaded with supplies, finding a place to sit was not easy. But we seemed to manage. The trip was rough because the road was in need of repair. Also, we were soaked with rain. But despite these adverse conditions, we plunged forward.

While traveling, we met a number of inundated houses and paddy fields. But we also saw many private local groups helping refugees. Like us, their cars were also loaded with as many supplies as they could carry. They were heading for outlying rural areas. It was really good to see them. It was encouraging. After passing lots of towns, we stopped for lunch. Soon after we continued with our trip, we met a bleak sight. Because of the storm, two thirds of all the structures had either collapsed or vanished completely. Don’t ask about the houses that were made of thatch or wood. Even brick houses had fallen to pieces. Occasionally, we came across refugee camps. As some were distributing supplies, refugees jostled each other to get their bare necessities.

We arrived at Khonchangone jetty at 1:30pm. Once we loaded all supplies, we began our journey by boat. As soon as we set off, it began to rain heavily. The land was decimated along the bank. After going quite some distance from Konchangone, we started see a few corpses in the river. Then we saw more and more. We saw them in various places in various positions- in the bushes, in the fields, on the bank. We also saw the many dead domesticated animals. At first we tried to count the bodies. But it soon proved impossible. We traveled three hours through the reeking stench of the bodies. When we approached the village, we had to pass through an extremely narrow passageway. The fallen trees and debris were an added pain.

At 6:30pm, our group reached a monastery at which we would stay the night. Villagers lined the shore and welcomed us. The area was mostly flooded. When we stepped onto the ground, we sank into 5 to 8 inches into the mud. The roof of the monastery had blown off. So when we entered the monastery, we were able to stare at the moon and stars above. After taking a short rest, we divided supplies into piles for each village and the doctors from our group gave medical attention to the sick and injured. The monastery graciously prepared us dinner. We felt really bad because they were serving us food that they couldn’t afford to share. After dinner, the villagers spoke of their feelings and experiences:

After six hours of the storm, the village was underwater. Waves standing 20 feet rushed in from the sea. The water was thick and polluted. Its smell was unpleasant. We suffered the torrents of the water all night long. We prayed for the morning to come quickly. Finally, when morning came and the waves resided, the entire village was in ruins. What an earth-shattering sight. So many family members were lost, at least 3 in every family. There was no sign of farm animals and boats. All sources of fresh water and the paddy fields were filled with salt water. There was nothing to drink. So we did their best to collect rainwater. Two days after the storm, dead bodies started to appear. It was impossible for boats to cross the river because the piles of bodies were so thick. Nobody could sleep at night. Screams and cries for help filled the night.

One villager told us about his experience with his family:

Before I had 5 people in my family. My wife and two sons died in the storm. Only my daughter survived. When my daughter and I went out to search for our other family members, I found his wife’s corpse on the riverbank. I asked her to find our two sons. That night, her body returned with our two sons. Then she came to the entrance of the house and screamed, “My husband! Please save me.” Everyone confirmed that they also heard her pleas.

Another man explained that he was possessed by the spirit of one of his deceased family members. The spirit showed the villagers how he drowned to death.

The stories were so vivid that we got goose bumps and felt as if we had experienced those events ourselves. That night, I dared not sleep. The villagers’ words haunted my consciousness. Upon our return to Yangon, the rain was fierce and the seawater rose. More bodies began to appear one after another.