Touring Tragedy

In Thai, "Thailand" means "land of the free." This is the story of four IU administrators -- four Americans -- who observed Bangkok in the wake of the world's greatest recent tragedy.\n***\nPatrick O'Meara shuffled through his mail one unusually warm afternoon in late November. He flipped past the heavy assortment of advertisements and bills to one subtle envelope with a Thai postmark. "Dear Dean Patrick O'Meara," the letter began. "It is my honor to inform you that the Board of Trustees of the National Institute of Development Administration is awarding you with an Honorary Doctoral Degree in Development Administration. I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate you and invite you to participate in the graduation ceremony. The degree will be conferred on January 6, 2005 at 2 p.m. at the Main Auditorium of NIDA in Bangkapi, Bangkok." For then, Patrick forgot about the day's assortment of advertisements and bills.\nSoon after O'Meara, IU's dean of international programs, read about his honorary degree, he assembled a small posse of three other IU administrators to come to Thailand and watch as the princess of Thailand presented his degree. Christopher Viers, IU's associate dean for international programs, would make the trip, as well as David Jones and Susan Sutton from IU-Purdue University at Indianapolis. The four would meet with IU alumni to support NIDA and the Thai people. It would be the coronation of an IU leader. It would be a vacation. It would be a celebration.\n***\nThe day after Christmas, a 9.0 earthquake struck in the Indian Ocean, causing one of the most massive and devastating tsunamis in recorded history. The disaster's enormity surpassed all those of recent memory. The four Americans' celebration was in jeopardy. While Dave and Chris awaited Patrick's decision, Susan made a phone call to officials at NIDA. "I guess we should cancel our visit," she said. But the voice from the Kingdom was resilient. "No. The rest of the world is going to come to Thailand in our time of trouble. You should too."\n***\nGiven the news of the recent tragedy, the fate of the trip teetered on O'Meara's decision. Bangkok is several miles from any areas directly devastated, but relief efforts and indirect tragedy consumed the entire country. Would the four be a burden to a nation entrenched in grief a little more than a week after the tsunami ended the lives of about 9,000 people in Thailand? While Sutton had her doubts, O'Meara said only one decision could be made -- they would go.\n"I had hesitated in going, but it was a very important act of solidarity and support," O'Meara said.\nBefore the crew would embark on a mission of good will, they went to gather goods for the Thai relief efforts. They asked their colleagues for money and came up with $2,000 -- a pittance in the grand scheme of Southeast Asia's economy and a fortune for a few homeless Southeast Asians. \n***\nThe four Americans -- Patrick, Dave, Chris and Susan -- boarded an airplane Jan. 2. They flew to Bangkok with heavy hearts, hesitant tongues and $2,000 -- a paltry sum for four Americans and a fortune for a few Thai.\n*** \nThe Kingdom of Thailand lies on the southern tip of mainland Asia and looks as though it might be the next in a string of island countries to slip off of the continent. It is roughly the size of Indiana, Michigan, Illinois and Ohio combined. \nAnd though 8,759 miles separate Bangkok from Bloomington, IU and Thailand are more closely linked than one might think. Five hundred sixty-seven alumni hail from the former Siam, meaning only Malaysia (1,524) and Canada (919) are more heavily populated with IU graduates, according to the IU alumni online fact book. \nNIDA, located in the heart of Thailand's capital city, was formed in 1955 by IU. Originally named the Institute of Public Administration, the graduate institute exists to teach Thailand's government personnel the art of public administration. O'Meara knows NIDA well. Chindalak Vadhanasindhu, the school's vice president for administration, was one of O'Meara's students at IU. \nSo in a distant way, Hoosiers and Thai are familiar with each other.\n"These are our real friends," O'Meara said. "They love Indiana, and we need to do more to keep this very special connection alive and well."\nBeing only three years separated from their own national disaster on Sept. 11, 2001, the four IU administrators were familiar with aftermath. The faces of missing people on tattered fliers filled the chain-link fences. When the wind blew, their sheets sang out like a wheezy choir of ghosts. \nAbove the streets, banners directed citizens to DNA banks. When nearly 10,000 people are dead, scientists must create clever ways to identify the bodies.\n"When they get an unrecognizable body washing up, they can go to this bank," Sutton said. \nThe banners, aware of their grave messages, bent in downward arches. \nWhen the Americans spoke to the Thai, they sensed a weariness that was all too familiar. Reflective pauses preceded all responses. Conversations turned quickly from the devastating present to the hopeful future. \n"It was clear it was difficult to know what to say when they were processing what had occurred," Viers said.\nSutton also immediately thought of her nation's darkest Tuesday. \n"As soon as we got off the airplane, it really struck me the city was going on as it usually did," she said. "It's a big city, and it was hustling and bustling. But the character was not the same."\n***\nIt was Chris' first trip through Thailand. Susan, Dave and Patrick had been through before. The four Americans had all been through Sept. 11 once. And they all agreed this felt like the second trip.\n***\nThe road to the Red Cross was packed for blocks with people waiting to give donations. A bevy of cars and trucks arrived and departed by the minute like a band of relief supply cabs never reaching their final destination. A steady bloodstream of people flowed in and out of the artery's doors. Workers answered the infinite phone calls. Four Americans sat at one end with a check for $2,000, a paltry sum in the grand scheme of Thailand's economy and a fortune to a few homeless Thai citizens.\nAs the volunteers scurried to organize the delivery of relief to affected regions of Southeast Asia, they found it necessary to be hospitable to the Americans. They sat the four down in plush chairs, smiled and served them a tray of china cups filled with green tea.\n"If it was me, I don't think I would have taken the time to offer a cup of tea," Viers said.\nBut in Thailand, a country driven by the tourism industry, hospitality runs deeper than dirt. When the IU administrators returned to their rooms after long days of meetings, they watched news reports of the sickening casualty tolls. But amidst the death, Thai officials exuded a morbidly generous attitude toward foreign bodies, Viers recalled.\n"The remnants of the guests were kept in cool containers," he said. "Their own Thai citizens were often sitting out in the intense heat. At the expense of their own citizens, they were making sure those of other countries were being cared for. Thai people put others first."\nThe Americans heard the stories, but that day they left the Red Cross full of green tea and without $2,000, a fortune for a few devastated people.\n***\nThe four Americans met various leaders and IU alumni in Bangkok. Patrick was presented with an honorary doctorate from Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn of Thailand, who lost her nephew in the tsunami a few days before. After the ceremony, they met with 150 IU alumni for a dinner reception.\n***\nIt was a new year for the Thai people, which was usually met with much celebration. Sutton, who had spent the holiday in Thailand a year before, noticed a different kind of gathering. The year before, people played in the streets with balloons and streamers, Sutton remembered. Families were outside partying and having a good time. Balls were thrown, kites were flown and vendors sold decorations and party favors. \nThis year, Sutton saw no kites, no balls, no streamers, no balloons, no parties, no vendors and no good times. This year she saw some 7-year-old children meet at pulpits and read aloud the essays they had written about tsunami victims.\n***\nIn Thai, "Thailand" means "land of the free." But the four Americans visited a country all too familiar, filled with grieving souls burdened by a recent tragedy too painful for words. On one occasion, Dave and Susan met a small community of subsistent villagers who shared one television and a plan to contribute to the tsunami relief effort.