‘We had a family gathering, there were 16 people in my house, but only three of us survived. Tsunami came 15 minutes after the Earthquake happened. We didn’t have a chance to escape. The water hit me hard, there was a throbbing sound getting closer and we could see a 50-feet high water coming our way. It carried ruins from the houses and buildings that were swept along its way. I was drowning among the debris. All I could think of was how to survive. I reached for a door, a furniture, then a log, anything that would help me float. People who managed to climb to the top of standing buildings could only watch the raging tsunami claiming its victims. The water moved so fast like a moving train.

It was horrific but the true horror began after the tsunami was over. People gathered in this two-story mosque filled with dead bodies. The Earthquake kept happening every several minutes but we didn’t have anywhere else to go. There was no electricity, no signal, no food, no gas.

I didn’t expect any of my family members to survive as we resided so close to the beach. When it was getting darker, people started talking about fleeing to places that are not affected by the Tsunami. I built a courage to ask if I could come with them. They refused. I was wounded badly so it’s understandable that they think I would slow them down. Food was scarce, transportation was dead, it was too much to ask.

My dad miraculously showed up 15 minutes later when the mosque started to get less and less crowded. We struggled to travel to the nearest shelter. Disaster relief organizations then arrived with doctors from all over the world offering aids. I was told that my leg could have been amputated had I been treated two days later.’