Tsunami one year on: Happiness is a brand-new red engine

Mai Khlathaley can look forward to returning to fishing now he at last has an engine for his boat. Picture / Brett Phibbs

In a little concrete house with a ring of tsunami water damage still visible on the walls, cheers and cries of "thank you, thank you" ring out in broken English.

A long, hard year has ended with new hope for the poor fishing family who live here at Ban Nan Khem in Phang Nga province, one of the worst hit parts of Thailand.

The Herald first met Mai Khlathaley last January soon after the waves struck, rushing inland and devastating much of this sea gypsy community.

Estimates of the dead were put at around 1000 and hundreds and hundreds of homes were wiped out.

Mai was still stunned. He had thoughts of going into the water and killing himself.

He had lost members of his extended family and friends, and told how people had died or been badly injured by the tin roofs that were ripped off the houses. His boat was gone and he could not fish. His life was in tatters.

In March we returned and life was looking better. The Swedish Government had given him a new fishing boat, but he did not have an engine so still could not fish.

Herald readers generously donated money which was topped up by World Vision and last week a shiny new red engine was delivered to his door by World Vision representatives in Thailand.

When the Herald again visited Mai on Saturday, the joy was written all over his face.

Sitting cross-legged on a mat in the living room of his home, his wife and daughter with him and members of the extended family crowding around, he spoke of what the new engine will mean.

Life would change a lot for him, he said through an interpreter.

"Because when he don't have engine he have to be a labourer, work in construction, something like that, for little money, but now he got engine he owns his business, just go for fishing, any time, any days. He feel better he feel free again."

Mai was born in this village. His family have been fishermen for generations. It is all he knows.

Over the past year he has felt depressed about not being able to go to sea.

Sometimes he would join other boats "because he want to feel free again".

He is the first member of his extended family of about 50 to get an engine, so "not just him happy, the whole family happy", says the interpreter.

Mai's 21-year-old son is not here today. He's building houses, but will soon be able to go fishing with his father.

The village looks very different one year on. Where there was wasteland there are now small concrete houses everywhere, communities of people once again going about their daily business.

Mai says life is getting back to normal and the village is better than before. "Because the houses are all concrete, all white colour and with nice roof."

But progress has been slow. This is the first road to have electricity since the tsunami.

Mai shows us around his humble house. In a corrugated-iron room added to the back of the concrete structure is a deep well where the family use a bucket to get drinking water.

The house is on the outskirts of where the tsunami water reached, but it still came in 1m high, destroying most of the family's possessions.

Miraculously in the kitchen, another corrugated-iron extension, the fridge and cooker survived.

Mai will soon be following his old routine of getting up early, depending on the tide and the wind, and sometimes fishing all night to feed his family.

"If he catch a lot of fish he will bring to the shop but if he catch just a little bit, not much, he will put in the plastic bag and wife will walk around the village sell to the local people," says the interpreter.

The engine is sitting not far from the house but Mai and some of the villagers take it to the boat for a photograph.

They heave it on to the sidecar of a motorbike and head off, a procession of family following.

Along the way his wife, Chanpen, wipes away tears. She touches her heart and pats my hand. The engine is their lifeblood.

I ask her how the village is coping since the tsunami and she says people are no longer sad.

But they are still nervous. The interpreter explains how the new tsunami warning sirens, which have gone up all along the Andaman Coast, were set off by accident a week ago and people panicked.

Chanpen tells how the new engine will help send her daughter Boosabong, 14, to high school. She wants her to learn English, to study and find a good job.

Boosabong says she would like to be a tour guide or work on computers.

Ban Nan Khem is not far from Khao Lak, another of the most devastated parts of Thailand.

Unlike the fishing village, though, Khao Lak was full of tourist resorts and many of the thousands who died here were foreigners.

The water came with such force that many of the resorts were simply washed away and those that were strong enough to survive were battered and broken.

But Khao Lak too is showing signs of recovery. Many new buildings have gone up and greenery has replaced much of the barrenness.

The Soffitel Magic Lagoon and Spa resort on the beach front, where many Swedish tourists died, is still in ruins, roped off and patrolled by security guards. Warning signs tell of danger from the extensive and unknown damage caused by the tsunami.

Other resorts along this coast are in the middle of building frenzies. At the Mukdara Resort, which was flattened, new bungalows are going up to replace the old ones.

Many resorts have already reopened. At the La Flora Resort, next to Mukdara and also on the beachfront, half a dozen tourists lie on deckchairs.

An Austrian couple relaxing with books say they are not worried about another tsunami. Escape routes are marked out for guests to follow and a tsunami shelter has been built, they say.

They are like many tourists who have been to Thailand before and have decided to come back to help the locals.