Sadly enough the very first view on my wonderful Christmas gift, a high definition flat screen television, was that of an enormous destructive tsunami. The stereo sound effects of people gasping and screaming were being drowned by the sound of the wave itself. It seemed as though the wave swept over the entire world. The best in the human spirit surfaced. People of all nations volunteered and donated generously. As I watched these images I thought I heard amongst the chaos the sound of my name. Perhaps someone lost had a similar sounding name. I searched the websites and newspapers to offer my services. Much thanks to Dr. Sujanthy who guided me to this effort. Thus, began an amazing adventure to treasure forever.

Since all communications for the tsunami mission were via e-mail, I was somewhat apprehensive. Anxious and jet-lagged I arrived in Colombo, Sri Lanka, hoping that the message of my arrival had reached and that there would be a pick up. My cell phone no longer worked. Public telephones anywhere other than the U.S. are a challenge for me especially as I did not have one of my children with me to figure the system. Soon I saw a card with my name on it (my name never looked better). Rabin was there to welcome me and promptly helped me with my luggage. While he went to fetch his car, I stood amongst a busy crowd, sweating and being mosquito bitten. My anxiety dissipated and was replaced with a refreshing sense of excitement. On the way to my hotel, Rabin gave me a wonderful tour. I was admiring the ornate display pictures of Hindu Gods in Rabin’s car when we stopped at a famous Buddhist monastery. I was surprised to hear the Azaan, the Muslim call for prayer. I looked out of the far window wondering from where the call was coming. Across the street I saw a statue of the Virgin Mary and a few nuns in prayer. I was overwhelmed to be surrounded by all these faiths at one moment. I felt safe and knew I had made the right decision.

After my arrival in Colombo, I went to The Center for Healthcare on Melbourne Street. There I was introduced to the other members of my team and received a briefing. Our team consisted of Dr. Shah, David (a young college graduate), and Merle (an R.N. who soon bonded as my "Tsunami Sister").

We would travel in one van. The other van would have R. Krishna and his team of four doctors from the U.K. Of this group, two were young women with refreshing English accents and a dashing young man we later referred to as the "Movie Star". Our interpreters were medical students: Tushi, Shiyashny, Suganya and, of course, the ever smiling Rama.

Our destination was Batticaloa, a northeastern coastal province. To avoid traffic, we decided to start at ten p.m. and arrive by eight a.m. - in time to begin the medical mission. We boarded our vans (air-conditioned!) and soon began our adventure.

We drove, endlessly, on dark narrow roads enclosed by bushes or running through long sandy stretches. We passed several villages. Although it was a dark night, I could see many dogs wandering on the roadside often getting very close to the cars. Sea gulls were sitting on the road itself. They took flight as our vans approached.

At checkpoints, armed guards flashed their lights inside our van. Apprehensive, I wondered how to respond. Sometimes I smiled; mostly I pretended to be asleep. Our driver (Ravi) would declare that we were U.S. doctors on a medical mission and, without much delay, we were allowed to proceed. This scenario repeated itself many times. It all seemed so surreal.

In the mean time we needed to find a rest room. Ravi kept promising of something coming up in the next twenty or thirty kilometers but nothing did. The guys made matters worse by stopping for tea. We were desperate and tried to wander off to the bushes but were reminded of the snakes and landmines! Of course the guys were generous and offered to catheterize the women! As we approached Batticaloa, I saw a spectacular sight. It was the view of a church that had a roof with a short surrounding wall. The church was lit with candles. The priest was conducting a mass. It looked peaceful and beautiful.

At last we reached our destination – the St. Vincent’s Hospital. We unloaded our luggage and freshened up. After a quick breakfast, and lots of tea, we set out with our daily routine of driving to remote villages. On our way, we stopped to pick up medicines from the Health Center. Since the supply did not include much for children, we stopped at local pharmacies stocking up on Somaporta (a protein supplement), and remedies for skin infections, worms, etc. Of course, we bought lots of toys and other treats for the children.

We drove over damaged bridges that were barely standing. It was scary! We shared the roads with cows, dogs, and pedestrians. We passed many vans flying the flags of different nations. We had our own banner. As we drove, I noticed that the water tanks at street corners were a gift from the French. We passed refugee camps with tents donated by the Japanese, Koreans, and others. We also passed many graveyards with fresh mounds of dirt.

Our clinics were set up at the local town hall or a school. Luckily, the buildings had a roof because the heat of the sun was scorching. The surrounding walls did not extend to the ceiling which helped us feel the breeze. Ravi would set up our banner announcing our arrival. We ventured inside and set up doctor’s stations consisting of a table and two chairs - one for the doctor the other for the interpreters. A short bench was supplied for the patient. At the far end of the room was our pharmacy - a table with the medicine supply. Merle and David were in charge of the pharmacy.

At first the area seemed deserted but was soon bustling with the presence of the entire village. The children (thumbis – boys and thangajis- girls) were dressed in their best colorful outfits to see the American doctors. Their presence was a boost for us. The patients stood in long lines waiting their turns. We were extremely busy.

Problems encountered varied at different locations. At the village of Kurukkal Madam, children and adults appeared malnourished. Many suffered from tape, round, and pinworm infestations. I noticed that almost all the people were barefoot. The sandy soil and the presence of stray dogs contributed to the worm problem. At the village of Kaluthawakli there was an epidemic of scabies, a highly contagious skin mite infection.

The village of Perya Neelavany was one with terrible tragedies. Being close to the shore, it had suffered great damage. The entire village was traumatized. All day we heard heart-wrenching stories. Fathers and mothers appeared distraught and depressed with sad vacant looks on their faces. I was overwhelmed and had to take frequent breaks. It was difficult to contain one’s tears.

The image of an unfortunate father now grayed and stooped will stay with me forever. He shared with me the memories of his three beautiful girls who washed away. He had named the girls after movie stars for their beauty. Another story was of a young mother who had successfully swam to safety with her two babies only to have a tree fall on them ending their brief existence on earth.

As we worked we heard, from a distant loud speaker, a eulogy for a tsunami victim. Later, we saw the funeral procession pass. During lunch, I walked to the beach accompanied by the little thumpis and thangajes. Their warm hands fought to hold mine. The water and beach were serene and calm. It was difficult to imagine it otherwise. As I heard the stories, I struggled with thoughts of how I should respond. I had so far just listened with little comment. At times, I struggled to say something worthwhile but ended up dispensing toys to the children. I fondly thought of, and missed, my four children and friends. I concluded with the thought that perhaps only Mozart could compose a fitting requiem. I wondered if, after all this, I would remain the same person. At the end of each clinic we gave out toys and treats to the delighted kids. Although we often ran out of medicines we never ran out of toys.

My friend, Sterling (a director of operas in which I perform), made possible a large donation that I left at orphanages and used for supplies. My daughter, Lyla, purchased used books for school and handed me the savings to take to the thumpis and thangajes.

Late every evening we returned to our quarters at St. Vincent’s Hospital emotionally and physically exhausted. As we left, we saw crowds cheering us - the children smiling. They were amazing survivors.

During our stay, I saw many young volunteers from all over the world cleaning up and rebuilding. It was very hot and all the work was being done manually. It restored my faith in the youth. I felt drained and humble.

Each morning I was grateful as I awoke to the singing and chirping of birds by my window. I had no alarm clock. I dozed on and off till the rooster took over. There was no sleeping through his crowing. I wonder what he was doing at the hospital. Soon I was up and ready to venture again. "Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings before the break of dawn (Tagore)."