Surviving the Storm

The Irrawaddy News

Bloodied, traumatized and heartbroken, the survivors of Cyclone Nargis are now victimized and treated with contempt by the military authorities

Her eyes filled with tears, Kyin Hla, 65,
lost 12 members of her family in the cyclone’s tidal surge.
(Photo: The Irrawaddy)

KYIN Hla suddenly stopped doing her household chores at 11:20 on the morning of May 2. The wind had started swirling fiercely and from her farmhouse window she saw the sea swell and turn black. The 65-year-old woman called to her grandchildren to stop playing and come indoors. She closed the windows.

A young girl waits for food in the rain on the outskirts of Rangoon. (Photo: AFP)By midday the sky had turned “an angry red color” and dark clouds had gathered overhead. Instinctively alarmed, Kyin Hla drew her grandchildren closer and began praying.

The house began shaking violently. The noise outside grew louder and louder. Suddenly the roof was blown clean off the farmhouse, then the walls were pulled down one by one.

She managed to hold on until the tidal wave struck at 1 p.m. The force ripped her grandchildren from her arms. She remembers one child screaming “Grandmother!” as they were swept away.

The wave carried Kyin Hla into a tree. With the last of her strength she grabbed the branches and held on until the wave subsided. Then she collapsed.

When she woke up, she was surrounded by dead bodies, animal carcasses and debris. Her clothes had been ripped off, and she had to take a longyi from a dead woman to cover herself.

Her village had been destroyed. She staggered around until she met some other survivors who gave her some coconut. That was her only food for the next four days until she managed to get to a shelter in Laputta.

Kyin Hla was reunited with three of her sons, but 12 members of the family had died, including all her grandchildren.

Apart from the trauma of experiencing such a terrifying natural disaster and the heartbreak of losing their loved ones, Cyclone Nargis survivors have had to endure abysmal conditions in the aftermath of the storm. Thousands of children were orphaned and thousands of people were injured or have since died from disease.

The majority of the 2.4 million people in the Irrawaddy delta directly affected by the cyclone were farmers whose livelihoods depend on agriculture, especially rice cultivation, and livestock to work the fields.

With their homes leveled, their rice paddies inundated with seawater, their livestock dead and their villages reduced to rubble, most rural survivors had no choice but to leave behind the stench of death and walk or be carried to the nearest town.

Thousands gathered in Buddhist monasteries where monks fed and sheltered them. Others crammed into schoolhouses or public buildings. There was seldom any electricity or medical help, or enough fresh water, food or sanitation. Many families were lucky to receive a daily ration of one tin of rice.

While the junta dragged its feet on allowing in international aid, private Burmese philanthropists attempted to come to the rescue. Burmese celebrities, such as comedians Zarganar and the Moustache Brothers, and the actor Kyaw Thu joined local NGO efforts to deliver supplies to cyclone survivors.

Many private donors packed their vehicles with small makeshift aid packages and drove to the delta to hand them out.

In Bogalay, some three weeks after the cyclone had killed her father, 12-year-old Lei Lei was still begging for handouts at the side of the highway. She had her baby sister tied on her back in a longyi and was competing with hordes of other cyclone victims for packages of food occasionally thrown from of passing vehicles by private donors.

However, the authorities moved to impede the effort, preventing aid donors from entering the delta or asking them for bribes at each checkpoint. Through the media, the junta went so far as to warn the public against helping the survivors, saying it would “make them lazy.”

Apart from those refugees sheltering at a handful of showcase camps—set up methodically as photo-op backdrops for the Burmese generals, international dignitaries and the media—most survivors had still not received any aid three weeks after the disaster.

Then, when it seemed things couldn’t get any worse, the military authorities ordered rural survivors to return to their villages. The government argued that towns such as Laputta and Bogalay were overcrowded and could not support the influx of refugees from the countryside.



Overnight, thousands of refuge-seekers were evicted from the monasteries, schools and shelters. Army trucks were filled with wretched souls who were driven to the approximate location where their villages once stood and dumped by the roadside.

In the cyclone-hit western suburbs of Rangoon, similar incidents took place. A cyclone victim evicted from the Shwe Pauk Kan refugee camp told The Irrawaddy: “The authorities gave each refugee 10 pyi of rice (about 2.5 liters) and 7,000 kyat (US $6.22). Then they took back the tents and told us to leave.”

In Maubin, homeless 93-year-old Khin Mya showed The Irrawaddy her only shelter—an umbrella and a plastic bag. “I get very worried every evening because I have to find a place to sleep,” she told our reporter. “Maybe under a tree. Or I ask if I can share a hut with someone.”

Many of the cyclone survivors—who have suffered so much already—are back in the rubble of their villages. With few exceptions, they have no food, no water, no medicine and no livelihoods. All they have are horrific memories of death and destruction, and the struggle to stay alive.

As the monsoon season unleashes itself on the delta this month, and the survivors try to rebuild their broken lives, one wonders where they will find the strength to face the future.

In a muddy rice paddy in Laputta, 12 people were crammed into a single tent. They were the only survivors from the village of Pain Nae Kone.

“We are from the same place, so we are together,” said U Nyo, one of the survivors, his eyes red from tears and fatigue. “We are one family now.”

Correspondents Aung Thet Wine, Min Khet Maung and Moe Aung Tin contributed to this story from Rangoon and the Irrawaddy delta.