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Juilliard Alum Witnesses Tsunami's Rampage For most of us, the shocking and heartbreaking images of devastation that swept over southern Asia in the wake of the recent tsumani were experienced only second-hand, from television, magazines and newspapers, or Web sites. But one Juilliard alumnus, Sergei Galperin (M.M. '86, violin), a violinist in the Houston Symphony, witnessed them in person. Mr. Galperin was on vacation in India in late December when the earthquake hit. This text, and accompanying photos, describe what he encountered.
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| Indian women try to extract fresh water from a well that had been flooded with sewage after the tsunami. |
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I first learned of the tsunami while in Mumbai (Bombay), on my way to the airport for my flight to the southern city of Madras. Usually I keep up with the news on a daily basis. However, during my stay in India I was not paying attention to the news because I was too busy sightseeing and learning about local culture.
The wave hit Madras late in the morning the Sunday after Christmas day, and I arrived there some six hours later. In conversation with the cab driver taking me to the airport, I mentioned that I was flying to Madras. He started screaming and gesturing dramatically, telling me about some huge earthquake that had taken place there. The details were hard to understand because of his strong accent. I had no idea that this earthquake had caused a giant wave to hit Madras and destroy its coastline. When I arrived at the Bombay airport, I looked for a television, hoping to catch a CNN report, but there was nothing on TV except a local game of cricket. I asked as many people as I could if it was safe to fly to Madras, if the runway was intact, and if the flights were on time. Again, there was no mention of any danger, and all flights to the south were on schedule. So I boarded the plane, and an hour and 20 minutes later landed in Madras. Just before boarding I met an Indian businessman who would not get off his cell phone. I don't understand the Indian language, but he was noticeably agitated. After we boarded, and he finally got off his phone, I asked him if he knew what was going on in Madras and if it was safe to fly there, and which part of town I should stay in. He said there would not be a problem as long as I did not stay near the shore, and that his colleagues in Madras, with whom he had been speaking, had assured him it was safe.
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| The battered coast of Madras, India. |
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When I arrived and checked into the Sheraton Hotel, I was told that several blocks away the coast had been wiped out and the police were not letting anyone near that area. But the next day I went to the beach and, after a brief encounter with police, I showed them my new digital camera and was allowed to take pictures of the coast. They must have thought I was with the press since I was the only foreigner there. Two days later a few Australian journalists showed up at the hotel, but otherwise, in the three days I spent there, I saw no European- or American-looking tourists in Madras. (Most people canceled their plans to come or left town.) On that very day, I must have been the only foreigner—certainly the only Russian immigrant, Juilliard graduate, and violinist in an American orchestra—on the beach, observing and feeling the pain of the many who were caught off-guard and who lost either their lives or the little that they owned. It was both painful and scary to see what was left of houses near the shore, as well as to be there and be constantly wondering if an aftershock might cause another wave to come that would wash me out to sea.
Several days later, all the news channels I watched said that this was one of the worst disasters to hit this area in 50 years. Just a few blocks away, the people in town were going about their business, selling and trading as though nothing had happened. On the coast, however, it was a nightmare. Boats, garbage, sewage, horrible smells everywhere, huge birds circling in search of prey, families crowding every inch of land on the beach, thousands of bungalows (or maybe simply slums) either completely leveled or irreparably damaged. Women were using the wells to extract fresh water (though I could not fathom how they could drink this water when a day earlier those wells had been flooded with sewage). As I continued observing this unimaginable chaos, it struck me that the locals I saw at the site did not appear lost or depressed but looked busy taking care of themselves. You can see in the picture of the women getting water from the well near the coast that one of them still has a smile on her face.I might have stayed longer had it not been for all the mosquitoes. I was taking malaria pills daily as a precaution, but I was starting to get nervous about the possibility of an epidemic outbreak. I had been planning to go to Africa following my stay in India, but the experience of being in Madras was so overwhelming and tiring that I returned to Houston, bringing home with me not only souvenirs, but memories of pain and terrible suffering, memories that will be with me for a lifetime.
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