Between the sun and the rain, a village struggles

15 May 2008

UNICEF Myanmar staff travel by boat with two health workers from the Kawhmu Township Health Department to a remote corner of the destruction left by Cyclone Nargis in south-western Myanmar. By Angela Thaung.

It was hard to see where the river edge ended and the paddy fields began. Our boat moved cautiously to a remote village in one of the worst-affected areas of the cyclone disaster where no authorities had yet gone. We were taking water-purifying treatment and bleaching powder to the village and to assess the damage. The remains of huts, livestock and simple lives littered the flooded fields. But signs of resilience popped up here and there where families were fixing makeshift new homes.

After ninety minutes in the boat, we arrived at Koe Taung village in Yangon Division. Only 10 houses remained undamaged of the original 439. Even the pagoda had been destroyed. There was good news: no deaths. The worst case, so far, seemed to be a woman with a leg severely injured when a tree fell on her.

All around, paddy rice was drying on tarpaulin sheets. The villagers had received a rice donation from local authorities for eating. But the flooding sea water had ruined their seedling stocks for the next crop, and they already were alarmed over the likely low yield next year.

Among the other bad news was the demolition of the primary school, leaving 338 students, from kindergarten to seventh grade, without a classroom to enter on 1 June when the new term is scheduled to begin.
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The village chief had prioritized the children's education among immediate needs. "We would like to rebuild the school before the new school year," said the chief, U Khin Nyo. Teachers and village elders who had gathered to talk with us said they would re-use what wood they could from the destroyed school but they estimated it would only be enough for one room and not many students. They will need outside help building a new structure to accommodate all the students. They were worried for the children, they said, and didn't want them left behind in their studies.

The children echoed their concern. "We would like to go back to school so we can write, read and pray there," said one child. "We want to rebuild our school as soon as possible," said another.

We suggested to the teachers to make time with the children for singing songs and reciting poems and school lessons as a way to help reduce the stress and possible trauma.

The villagers explained they had rebuilt toilets higher up because they knew the dangers of digging holes into the wet ground and likely contaminating their water. There are 10 ponds in the village, their drinking supply previously, but all are now unsafe for consumption. The villagers must rely on rain water for drinking and use the ponds for washing. We gave them the bleaching powder and showed them how to treat the pond water with it to make it potable. Still, I trembled, knowing how much at risk they were of diarrhoeal and water-borne diseases.

Despite the loss of homes, no one has left the village. Those who lost their homes sleep in the houses of relatives or friends. We could hear the hammering of reconstruction amid the shouting voices of children. It was a good sound. But with only a few boats having survived the storm, it would take some time to get crucial construction materials to the village.

"For now, the most important thing is shelter," reasoned one villager, knowing more heavy rains were coming soon with the start of the wet season. "Once there is shelter, we need food to eat."

As the boatman steered our tiny vessel away from the village and back through the now-calm waters, I thought of these villagers' precarious relationship with water, living here in the delta so close to the perils and produce of the sea. Now they needed rain for the safest drinking water. But they needed sun to dry their primary food supply. And many of their homes were still barely protected from other storms. My heart sank.