A Journey to Calang: Reconnecting, Reflections, and Resilience
I was poised to embark on a journey to Calang, a remote island accessible only by a 45-minute helicopter flight operated by the World Food Programme (WFP). Accompanied by my Oxfam colleague, Eka, we arrived at the bustling airport, anticipation humming in the air as we prepared to board the helicopter. Just before takeoff, Eka asked me to capture a photo of her with the aircraft. As I framed the shot, a familiar face in the background caught my eye—a man whose identity lingered just beyond the reach of my memory.
[Photo: Eka and Berry, left to right]
Once aboard the helicopter, the man settled into the seat across from me. We exchanged polite nods, both seemingly grappling with the same unspoken question: Where had we met before? The deafening roar of the rotor blades rendered conversation impossible, but he scribbled a note on a scrap of paper and passed it to me: “Are you from RedR?” Instantly, the fog of memory lifted. This was Berry Darling—a close friend of mutual acquaintances, Pradeep and Prasad, with whom he’d worked in Afghanistan. Berry and I had crossed paths years earlier as participants in RedR’s “Environmental Health in Emergency” training course in October 2003. Reconnecting mid-flight, we shared smiles and handshakes, the noise of the helicopter giving way to the warmth of rediscovered camaraderie.
A Bird’s-Eye View of Contrasts
As the helicopter soared low over Aceh, the landscape unfolded beneath us like a vivid tapestry. After months surrounded by Afghanistan’s stark, monochromatic mountains, the lush greenery and azure coastline of Sumatra felt like a balm to the soul. The island’s beauty was surreal—a patchwork of emerald forests, golden beaches, and turquoise waters. Yet interspersed with this natural splendor were sobering reminders of the 2004 tsunami: shorelines clawed back by the sea, skeletal remains of homes, and uprooted trees lying like scattered matchsticks. The ocean now appeared tranquil, almost apologetic, belying its ferocity on that catastrophic December day when colossal waves claimed hundreds of thousands of lives.
Touchdown in Calang: A Hub of Hope
The helicopter descended toward what I initially mistook for an ordinary football field—a vibrant green clearing that doubled as a makeshift helipad. Below, a line of NGO vehicles waited to transport arrivals. Spotting Oxfam’s logo, we climbed into a waiting car and drove the short distance to the office: a cluster of wooden huts painted in the organization’s signature green and white, nestled within a gated compound.
Inside the main hall—a spacious, no-frills structure with six worktables—I was greeted by Peter Strujif, the Project Manager. His welcoming demeanor and thorough briefing on my induction schedule immediately put me at ease. Later, I met Gaurav Prateek, an Indian livelihoods advisor whose philosophical insights and sincerity left a lasting impression.
[Photo: Standing (left to right) Gaurav, Peter, Liz, Jim, Andy, Prasad; Seated: Myself, Myron]
My shelter team, though small, radiated dedication: Aarif, the Project Officer; Putri, the Administrative Assistant; and an architect currently on leave. Together, they guided me to my new residence—a quaint wooden bungalow perched on the beach, one of ten identical structures arranged in two neat rows. Assigned to Bungalow #10 in the back row, just behind Peter’s, I unpacked my luggage, already feeling a sense of belonging.
Settling Into a New Rhythm
As dusk fell, I stood on the porch of my bungalow, listening to the whisper of waves and absorbing the day’s contrasts—the haunting scars of disaster juxtaposed with the resilience of both nature and humanity. In this fragile corner of the world, where collaboration and compassion were rebuilding lives, I felt a profound gratitude for the journey ahead.
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