A New Chapter: Arriving in Aceh as Oxfam’s Shelter Manager
In November 2005, I was appointed as Shelter Manager for Oxfam-GB’s Tsunami response in Indonesia—my first assignment in Southeast Asia. The journey began with a flight from Delhi to Kuala Lumpur, followed by a connection to Medan, Sumatra’s bustling hub, via Malaysian Airlines. The trip was smooth, and Kuala Lumpur’s sprawling, efficient airport left an impression, especially its inter-terminal tram, which I rode with childlike curiosity.
By 11:00 AM, I landed in Medan. My next flight to Banda Aceh—the epicenter of Tsunami devastation—was scheduled for 5:30 PM, leaving me hours to navigate the chaotic domestic airport. Oxfam’s administrative coordinator, Nana, had arranged my tickets, but the scene at Medan’s cramped, smoke-choked terminals was overwhelming. The air hung thick with haze, reminiscent of a coal-fired engine, making every breath a struggle. With check-in delayed, I stretched out on a wooden bench, dozing briefly to pass the time.
Awakening hungry, I scavenged the waiting lounge for snacks, settling for biscuits and a Coke. When check-in finally opened, a mix-up at the Garuda Indonesia counter sparked an amusing confusion. The agent scrutinized my ticket, puzzled: “You can’t be Manish.” Turns out, Nana had listed me as Mrs. Manis—a Bahasa Indonesia quirk, as manis means “sweet” and, in her view, an unlikely name for a man! We laughed it off, and after paying excess baggage fees, I boarded the flight to Banda Aceh, eager yet uneasy about what lay ahead.
First Glimpse of a Shattered Coastline
The 70-minute flight descended into Banda Aceh as dusk settled. Peering through the window, the scale of destruction unfolded beneath me: vast swaths of land swallowed by the sea, salt-stained soil, and skeletal remnants of communities. The ocean, now deceptively calm, had clawed inland, leaving permanent scars.
At the airport, an Oxfam driver greeted me with a placard. We collected two regional staff members, Allison and Lillian, before heading to the office. There, Zubair, an Afghan HR manager, briefed me on logistics and escorted me to Oxfam House #10, a quiet accommodation far from the city’s pulse. Exhausted, I collapsed into bed, skipping dinner for much-needed rest.
Building Connections in a Broken Land
The next morning, I arrived early for my induction—a half-day immersion into Oxfam’s operations. Meeting colleagues felt like reuniting with old friends: Shemeles, a former Darfur teammate, and a lively contingent of Indian staff, including Joseph, Anand, and Jaimon. I learned Gaurav, the philosophical advisor I’d met earlier, was stationed in Calang, and counted at least six fellow Indians on the team.
Joseph, ever the hospitable soul, invited me to Oxfam House #1, a shared residence where Shemeles, Thomas (a Bangladeshi engineer), Anand, and he lived. The house buzzed with camaraderie and the aroma of home-cooked meals. Joseph, a culinary enthusiast, whipped up hearty dishes, while Thomas mastered flaky chapatis, and Anand’s egg curry became a lunchtime staple. Sharing stories and food in that makeshift family circle eased the weight of our grim surroundings.
Reflections
Those early days in Aceh were a collision of contrasts: the horror of nature’s wrath and the resilience of those rebuilding from ruins. Amid the debris, I found purpose in the chaos, camaraderie in unlikely places, and moments of levity—like being “Mrs. Manis”—that reminded me of the universal language of humor. As I settled into my role, the journey ahead felt daunting yet deeply meaningful, a chance to contribute to healing a fractured world.
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