Indonesia Stops Counting in a Happy New Year
Bangkok
“Indonesia Stops Counting” – I read this headline in The Bangkok Post as I am downstairs for breakfast after my first night in Thailand. For some reason I can’t get this out of my mind, that the tsunami devastation has reached such level that it became pointless to keep track of the number of dead. It hits me hard, as every bit of information I’ve been reading and watching since December 26. But those bits come and go, and I revert to taking care of my own business.
I relieve this latest punch in the stomach by drinking Nescafé and making small talk with other travellers at the extremely pleasant common room of the guest house where I’m staying. It is 2005, it is a whole new year.
As I make plans of going up to the Thailand Red Cross Blood Donation Center, I think of my own selfishness. Donating blood is no big deal for me, I’m used to it. I am, again, choosing the easy way out. Am I doing good by sacrificing the least possible of me? Truth is, I will be happy to do it. There’s no such thing as a selfless deed.
Get used to the idea that Death should not matter to us for good and evil are based on sensation. Death, however is the cessation of all sensation. Hence, Death, ostensively the most terrifying of all evils, has no meaning for us, for as long as we exist, Death will not be present. When Death comes, then we will no longer be in existence.
— Epicurous
The disaster seems to have triggered a number of reflexions on the point of each one of our existences – how we are helpless against such outside events, so are we using our lives for good? In the long run, will we make a difference? Are we happy, are we satisfied, have we found pleasure? Are we doing enough?
Forgive me if I cannot think along those lines. It’s pointless to keep track of the dead and I have stopped counting long ago. In 2005 all I want for myself is the same as what I deeply and silently wish year after year: That I am happy, that I find myself. And, yes, that I am actually making a difference with the line of work I have chosen and with my daily choices in general.
I head to the Red Cross. I am touched that as I approach the address – Bangkok can be quite confusing – two tuk-tuk drivers shout to me, not too aggressively offer me a ride as usual, but to point at the inner part of their arms, and then point in the direction of the Blood Donation building. There aren’t many other places in the area that I could be going to and they are correct to guess that is my destination. I know where I’m going, but I still stop to exchange some gestures with them, as the only form of conversation we can have in spite of the language barriers. I take pleasure in that.
Later on I learn from other foreigners waiting in line to donate their blood, that those two old men have been there for quite a while, voluntarily indicating the way to the blood donation building. At the Red Cross, the movement is huge. Lines of people packing sacks of food supplies, clothing and medicine. Lines of people sorting them. Crowds donating their time, their money, their blood. It is a literal example of an organized chaos. This throws me back to reality and I remember that I am indeed very sad, hurt even. There’s something stuck down my throat and I cannot describe it.
It does not take too long for me to get back to my own things, again. I am going from counter to counter, from volunteer to volunteer, checking my blood pressure, checking my blood type, answering questions, seeing doctors, filling up forms. But what I am really thinking is where I will go next on this trip. And if I should spend money on a Laos visa. And about how I miss him and wish I was not in love anymore. It’s been too long. And about how even Bridget Jones found herself and ended up with Mark Darcy. And about how I am, again, unemployed spending on a trip the money I should be saving for the uncertain next months. How I need to learn to save in 2005 and think more about my life on a long term basis.
Duty accomplished, I walk towards the exit of the blood donation bus. The triage nurse wishes me Happy New Year. I turn back, a bit amused by such kindness – it’s the last thing I expect to hear at a blood donation drive for a natural disaster that killed hundreds of thousands. So I wished back at her. And I wish to myself: Happy New Year.
