Yee Fong’s Blog

Coming from Singapore, an island-state located away from tectonic fault lines and sheltered from typhoons, it was a life-changing moment to be at the scene of the worst earthquake in China in 50 years.

“Did you see a lot of dead bodies?” topped the FAQ chart for my two-week endeavour.

It was a rather difficult question to answer. To address the question directly would seem to have simplified the magnitude of the devastation, as it was not just a matter of dead bodies, but the death of a certain part of the souls of the millions involved.

And it wasn’t so much of the gruesome dismembered remains that defined the tragedy ; it was the sheer grief and sense of hopelessness that comes the second, the hour, and the morning after.

The sunny sky in Sichuan did look dimmer while I was there.

To hear survivors talk about their losses, to see their tough front gradually breaking down into speechless tears was heart-wrenching to say the least.

Colleagues back home were worried, seriously worried about my crew and me, which I really appreciated.

I felt ok…well, maybe.

For the one-week that I was to be taking a break from covering the earthquake in Beijing, I was indulging in non-work activities on an unusual adrenaline high, while at the back of my mind, I was yearning to go back to Sichuan.

Even my cameraman, Sun, who’s usually cool and jovial, admitted he couldn’t watch another sob story on local TV stations and had switched to watching the cartoon channels instead. At times, while we navigated through the ruins, I thought I felt he was holding back tears, too.

I finally returned to the quake zones recently.

Sprawling shelters with Styrofoam-filled walls standing on former farmlands greeted us as we rode into Mianyang towards Beichuan, which by now has been destroyed, abandoned and flooded by the Tangjiashan Quake Lake.

Seas of blue tents that house the thousands waiting to be relocated punctuated the scenery.

At a camp en route to Beichuan, where 2,000 survivors now call home, people we spoke to have seemed to come to terms with the disaster. The sense of loss remains, but they told us they were thankful that the Chinese government took care of them fast, and well.

Local government officials, meanwhile, donned sun hats, t-shirts and rolled-up their pants. They convened in their tent offices, ate and drank the same food as the survivors as they are supposed to.

The person-in-charge seemed rather cold, and demanded that we produce a letter of authorization from the Mianyang government (which was not necessary, according to the Sichuan government, who accredited us for quake coverage).

We smiled and explained and smiled some more. Eventually, he left us alone.

We roamed around the camp and learnt that these are the supplies which each survivor receives every other day:

1 pack of sausages
2 packages of milk
5 sets of pre-packed rice meals
4 packets of instand noodles
4 bottles of water

To top it all, there are regular hot meals provided by volunteers.

The camp is powered and gets running water from a nearby water treatment plant all day. Hordes gathered at a “TV lounge” with large flat-screen TV to watch updates of relief efforts.  Later, an announcement over the loudspeaker informed all that a hair cutting service was now available.

Sun and I were by now scorched and tanned by the intense summer heat in the outskirts, but there were no complaints from the survivors. They stayed out of their tents, fanning themselves with straw fans or whatever they could find. They just found ways to chill.

I suddenly understood why I needed to return to Sichuan.   It’s the sense of closure that comes from being able to see the survivors move on, strong.

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