The Easy Day Was Yesterday (43 page)

In the morning I found the Channel 9 guys. They were set up in one of the buildings and, like me, had just gone through their first night. They had been in the group running out of the building the previous night when the earth shook but, unlike the locals, they weren’t screaming. I packed all my kit away and loaded my day pack with the items I thought I’d need during the day: binoculars, satellite phone, cell phone, water, snack bars, umbrella, super glue, rope, trauma kit, digital camera, face mask, Vicks Vaporub, gloves, hat, sunscreen, mosquito repellent, GPS and hand-held radios. The guys had already secured a vehicle and driver so we headed out looking for news and didn’t have to go far.

Close to Pondopo was a river that ran through the middle of Banda Aceh. All the boats moored in the river had been smashed together up against the bridge and reduced to a tenth of their previous size. It was a bizarre sight, but illustrated the power of the water and the size of the tsunami when it hit. The smell was constant, but stronger when we got closer to a dead person — most of the dead could be smelt but not seen, because they were under collapsed houses or drowned inside garages.

A tip truck drove past us with a couple of local lads sitting high on top of a pile of bodies. There were stiffened limbs hanging over the sides of the truck and I wondered how they managed to keep the load on board, there were so many. We followed the truck on the road towards the airport to a mass grave. It was clear that other trucks had dumped their loads here already because the massive pit was nearly full. We estimated there to be about 300 bodies in the grave already and the truck we followed still hadn’t dumped its load. It was hard to tell how deep the pit was; there could have been another hundred or so bodies in the bottom of the pit. Honestly, there are no words to describe how bloody awful, cruel, devastating and sad this sight was. Babies, children, women and men dumped like garbage into a mass pit, all intertwined into grotesque positions. It was something you should never see, but we couldn’t tear our eyes away and all stood in silence for a moment. I knew then that this would be big for the crews and part of my plan had to include the safety of their minds and emotions.

The crew put on their face masks with some Vicks rubbed on the outside of the mask to try to block the horrible smell. I didn’t bother with the mask, but continued to breathe through my nose; the smell was bad, but I didn’t want to taste it.

When the crew had all they needed, we headed back to Pondopo so they could file their stories back to Sydney. This gave me the chance to look over Pondopo and the living arrangements we had; it wasn’t good. I had heard stories of stealing as expensive equipment was laid out everywhere with no security controlling who walked into the sleeping and storage areas. I’d also just been told by the News Director in Sydney that another crew from the
Today
show and one from
A Current Affair
were on their way. That would put our numbers at around 17 including a local interpreter and me. I had to find something better; something that I could secure and something more comfortable just for us.

Rob and Jess from Channel 7 had finally arrived and both looked pretty dishevelled. They’d had a horror trip to Aceh starting three days previously, and poor Jess had been forced to leave most of her gear in Medan, so didn’t have a change of clothes. Rob and I were, and still are, good mates and have travelled to some real shit holes together, but on this job I was working for his opposition, which was another reason we had to get away from Pondopo and each other. Nine wanted to win the ratings for this one and were throwing a lot at it. My job was to help them win the ratings war, but more importantly to keep them safe, just as I’d done for 7 when working for them.

At this point, we had two crews with three people in each crew, a local interpreter, two drivers and two vehicles over which I needed to gain some control. I needed to be sure the drivers would always be available when required and didn’t just disappear whenever they felt the need. So, while the crews were hunched over laptops cutting their stories, I grabbed the interpreter and we went to have a chat with the drivers. I told them they needed to be on location at 7.00 am every morning unless told otherwise; one of them needed to stay on location through the night so we always had a vehicle to respond to immediate news or emergencies. They had to keep their vehicles full of fuel and this had to be done before or after work and not with the crew in the vehicle. They had to ensure they had a spare tyre and tyre-changing kit in the car; they were not to drink alcohol at any time and they had to check the vehicle fluid levels every morning. Finally, I told them I would be checking their vehicles whenever I felt like it and if anything was not right, I would deduct money from their pay; but if they worked well, I’d give them a bonus. They seemed happy with this direction.

As I walked with the interpreter back to the temporary workspace, I asked him for two things: find three more vehicles and drivers, and start looking for a house for us to rent for a month or so. He agreed to do this, but I sensed he was pissed off that I was now directing traffic and giving him instructions when he felt he was working for the crew and not me. So I softened the blow by telling him the crew would be rapt if he found a nice house for them to live in.

The daily tremors continued and life became more difficult at Pondopo. The crew were eating canned food and drinking bottled water, which was okay for a disaster zone, but the reality was that fresh food was available in the makeshift markets springing up around town. Our problem was that we had no way of preparing it.

The interpreter took me to a few different houses he’d found and they were fine, but not big enough for 17 of us. By New Year’s Eve I was getting frustrated at the lack of progress in the house-hunting department when a middle-aged, fat guy on a motor scooter approached me at the entry to Pondopo and asked if I was looking for a house. I really couldn’t be bothered driving out to look at another shack. I took the fat man to the interpreter so I was clear what he was saying. He said he had a big three-bedroom house with two bathrooms and a kitchen and lots of space for the cars.

‘Okay, let’s go and look,’ I said to the interpreter. I turned to the fat man and said, ‘Saya hunya mulihat lihat saja.’ (I am just looking.)

‘Tidak masala,’ he replied. (No problems.)

The house was close to Pondopo and on the road to the airport — in fact the location was great. The only thing the fat man forgot to tell me was that construction of the house wasn’t actually completed. The place had no doors or windows and had an Acehnese family living there. But it was certainly big enough and the best we’d seen, and the family seemed friendly enough. Over a cup of tea, we discussed the arrangements. We were going to move in the next day (New Year’s Day), the fat man would put temporary covers over the doors and windows, he’d buy a truck-load of mosquito coils, the family would move into the back room, the ladies would cook breakfast and dinner for all of us and the husband would keep an eye on all our gear. In turn, we’d pay rent and pay for all the food for everyone in the house. We shook hands and the deal was done; I hoped the crews would be happy with this — it was a bloody big call.

That night was probably the quietest New Year’s Eve I’ve ever had. I had one shot of rum with the crew and Rob and Jess and was in my sleeping bag by 10.00 pm.

The next day, I picked up the
A Current Affair
crew from the airport. They dropped their gear at the house and I introduced them to the family and the fat man. They looked really unsure of the house as they dropped their gear into one of the front rooms and then headed straight out on a story. At times like that you start wondering whether you’ve made the right choice.

I went with them on this story because I wanted to orientate them to their new surroundings. Banda Aceh was actually a small town and easy to navigate around and, as each new crew came in, I gave them the same orientation tour around town. The guys were wandering the streets of Banda Aceh absorbing all the destruction when I walked over to a bloke in his twenties. He was in front of a shopfront that seemed flooded, but not collapsed. He was slowly moving furniture out of the garage next to the shopfront. I had a look and it was clear a lot of water and mud had pushed through the whole building and forced all the furniture up against the back wall. I couldn’t see how the building could possibly have stayed upright. The bloke invited me to sit in one of the chairs and, in my poor Bahasa, I struck up a conversation with him. He pulled out a packet of 2-minute noodles and started eating them dry, insisting that I take a few as well. I felt like a shit for taking food from a bloke who was probably eating his last bit of food, but he insisted and it really did reinforce for me the kind-hearted nature of the Acehnese people. I asked him about his shop and his family when he stopped and pointed to his family. It was only then, when I focused my eyes into the dark corner of the garage, that I could see the mud-covered small bodies of his two children and his wife. They were jammed into the corner, but I could see his wife’s arms wrapped around the two kids. Damn. This poor bastard was one of thousands who had lost it all and then had to dig them out and potentially watch them being unceremoniously thrown into a pit with hundreds of others. There was nothing to say to the bloke. Words would have seemed false and, really, what can you say at a time like that? He had tears in his eyes, so I just put my hand on his shoulder, gave him a squeeze and a pat, then left him to his work and his grief.

The first night in the house was a shocker. One of the kids screamed all fucking night. The crews all looked like shit the next day and were clearly not overly thrilled at my selection of accommodation. But things slowly improved and, the next evening, the ladies had prepared a great meal of nasi goreng with eggs and we had plenty of cold soft drink and water. The kids got used to the idea of having all the white men in the house as well and, at night, the guys would have a rum and coke and sit around and chat with one of the kids on their laps or playing at their feet. This was really good therapy for the guys — really grounding stuff — and got them away from the carnage outside the house.

The old woman in the house was a strict Muslim. She was never seen without her head scarf and never smiled at the crews. But she eventually came around as well and the lads started giving her a hug each day when they came back to the house. At first I thought she was going to have a heart attack and I waited for the fat man to run and talk to the local Imam, but she got used to the idea and I started to notice her hanging around at the end of the day waiting for all the lads to arrive back so she could get that hug.

The Australian Army had already arrived and had taken over the local hospital. As usual, they did a great job and, as luck would have it, I knew a handful of the senior members, including the RSM and CO. The Australian Defence Force had a navy supply vessel located off the coast of Banda Aceh and decided to start using a landing craft to deliver equipment and supplies to the mainland. Channel 9 wanted to cover the first landing and, by now, had imported a portable satellite dish complete with two operators from Singapore. These guys had set up the satellite dish on the river bank adjacent to the proposed landing craft position. The narrow, single-lane road on the river bank was in very poor condition and there were a few bodies on the road and on the side of the road to dodge. One body was in a black plastic bag, but the hand was exposed and the crabs had eaten away the flesh exposing the skeletal hand. This body was only 30 metres or so from the dish.

While we were ready, the navy wasn’t, and the landing operation was postponed until the following day. I visited the two satellite operators at about 4.00 pm to ensure they were secure. They’d set up a two-man tent next to the dish where they housed all the techy stuff that went with the dish. I told them they’d be spending the night with the dish as we weren’t filming until the next day. I’d been in Aceh for more than two weeks by now and had grown used to the smell of rotting human flesh and wasn’t concerned about the multiple bodies everywhere. These guys had been in Aceh for two days and, when I told them they were sleeping there for the night, they went white and stole some quick glances at the body close by with the exposed, bony hand.

‘Ahhhh, no, ahhhhh, we are not,’ one of them replied.

I nearly said, why not? Then I realised the problem — too many pulse-less bedfellows.

Fuck it, I thought. I’ll go back to the house, grab a few things, have a quick feed and then come back to relieve them. A quiet night out under stars would be nice.

‘Okay, I’ll be back in an hour to relieve you and I’ll stay with the kit through the night.’

The relief that washed over them made them look as if they had just received a stay of execution.

An hour later, I was back and they’d gone. By 9.00 pm it was dark and I was covered in mosquito repellent and lying on my sleeping back in front of the tent. Fortunately, we had a nice onshore breeze that reduced the humidity and ensured the stench from my room-mates was blown the other way. I slipped into that point where you are not fully asleep, but not quite awake. It’s that point when your brain runs wild to the point of hallucination. I dreamt that the skeleton hand from my mate up the road had broken from the body and had crawled towards me and was now crawling around me, but I knew I was dreaming, so couldn’t shake myself awake. But then I could hear the hand. The phalanges were scraping the rocks around my body as the hand moved in short bursts. The sound got louder until it was becoming all too real and I sat up abruptly. I dug my maglite torch from my pocket and shone it around looking for the hand and saw about 20 mid-sized mud crabs walking around me. They looked as if they were positioning themselves for a frontal assault on their evening meal — me. When I stood up, they all scurried around and I could hear a series of ‘plops’ as they all dropped back into the water. Sleeping was going to be a challenge with the crabs wanting to eat me and the hand wanting to choke me.