Tsunami - Descriptive Writing

Louis Cryer was 18 and in Sri Lanka with his mother Zoe and brother Felix
We were staying in an idyllic beach village called Unawatuna in Galle district. It took a
matter of seconds for a wall of water of about 5ft (1.52m) in height to start coming in. It
was a kind of surge which reached the first floor of our hotel.
s and Zoe Cryer returned to the guesthouse collect bedding
Zoe Cryer, Louis' mother, Sri Lanka
Survival instincts totally kick in. I thought our balcony might collapse. My main worry
was for my 13-year-old who wasn't such a strong swimmer.
We grabbed what we could and got out as quickly as possible. My youngest son, Felix,
had been studying tsunamis in geography. He was the first one to realise what had
happened. He saw the islands disappearing.
When we returned, all the buildings in front of the guest house had been pulled away. A
crowd gathered around a woman who had collapsed. I'm qualified in first aid so went to
help. We tried to give mouth to mouth, but she died. I'd never seen a dead body before.
Many tourists had the opportunity to fly out immediately but I felt strongly that we
needed to make our peace with what had happened - with the country and with the
people. We were supposed to travel to southern India but went home instead. I didn't
think it was right to be there. It was a while before I could look at the sea and feel
comfortable.
It flattened walls, trees, and the buildings around us, before rising higher and higher. We
tried to get people out. Miraculously, guests who had been in the room underneath us
started popping up from the water.
One woman was trapped in her locked room because she couldn't find her key. She said
the room filled up quickly with water and she took what she thought would be her last
breath. Luckily she found the key and opened the door which then burst into pieces under
the pressure.
Buildings were collapsing around us. We tried to pull out passing people trapped in the
currents.
When the water finally subsided we made a run for higher ground and a temple that had
become a make-shift safe refugee area. We set up camp in a hotel up on a hill and when it
was safe to do so, we went back down to salvage anything we could. I remember seeing
rooms full of mud and fish.

People came up to the temple with dead bodies. We carried one Italian woman with a
suspected broken back through the debris to another hotel to get medical help. I met one
guy who had been out surfing and was swept a few miles up the coast. He had to walk
through all the death and destruction to find his family. Luckily he found them all.
One of the only positives to come out of it all was the humanity of it. It didn't matter
about your nationality or religion. Everyone was checking on each other.
A few days later, once the road was clear, the High Commission sent coaches to take us
back to a refugee centre in Colombo. We were fed, watered, offered clothes and flights
home but we chose not go straight away. We wanted to stay to try and comprehend the
reality of what had happened.
The main thing we felt was guilt. After seeing the devastation, we were lucky enough
leave, but many were left with nothing.
Once in the UK, I put on an exhibition of photos I'd taken, spoke about it at our school
and raised 3500 to send back to the village.
I gained a new-found respect for the sea. I never realised its power. It hasn't put me off
going in the water, but I'm a lot more aware of what it can do.

Tom and Arlette Stuip were holidaying in

Khao Lak,Thailand tuip had a feeling
something wasn't right just before the
tidal waves hit
We were having breakfast at the hotel on a terrace, overlooking the pool, the beach and
the Andaman Sea. My husband Tom noticed the waiters were all pointing at the sea which
was receding rapidly. It was a fascinating sight. People got their cameras out and walked
towards the dry seabed. The beach was full of sunbathing tourists.
Tom had an uncomfortable feeling though. He lived for two years on the beach in
California and had never seen a sea behave like this. Then it clicked: the trembling he
heard earlier was an earthquake. The receding water was the prelude to a tidal wave.
Tom grabbed my hand and screamed, "Run!". At that same moment, he saw a high wall
of water come crashing over the reef towards us at a speed of 40-50mph. We ran uphill
fast. The water was right behind us. The noise was deafening.

'Few survivors'

Tom looked behind and saw the beach and pool area were a boiling mass of water. Palm
trees, beach chairs and parts of bungalows were twirling around and people were
frantically trying to hold on to something. We kept going for higher ground, up the steep
hill into the jungle beyond it. We waited for two hours, knowing only few people would
have survived the onslaught below.
When the sea looked calm again we descended to the hotel, and found many badly
wounded people. We helped to get them onto the back of trucks taking people to hospital.
estaurant with Arlette and Tom Stuip
Then we were warned another tsunami was on its way so we climbed up into the jungle
again, where we waited three more hours.
We then came down to the road there were cars and trucks loaded with the wounded. No
one knew what to do or where to go. We did not want to go down to the lower level and
see all the corpses that littered the beach.
Ten years on and we are still looking at life with a lot of more appreciation
There was no electricity, no cell-phone network nor radio, so we spent the night at a small
restaurant stand.
The next day the road was clear, and we could start the long trip home. The floor of the
bus station was covered with wounded people, all waiting for the bus to Bangkok. People
nearly cried at the opportunity to use our cell phone and reach their families to tell them
they were alive.
The guilt was hard to bear. I will never forgive myself for not going to the hospital with
the wounded but mainly for coming back unscratched.
Ten years on and we are still looking at life with a lot of more appreciation. We feel
connected with Thailand so that is why we continue with a Thai animal charity.