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‘Sea life is risky, but that’s my home’
Published on December 16, 2005 -
It had been nearly 60 years since Poon Klatalay last climbed a coconut tree, but with the ocean trying to sweep her away, it was either that or drown.
“I was collecting mussels and sea cucumbers when I saw the water recede, then it all came rushing at me. I just hung on to that tree watching the water rise. There was no one else around. It seemed like ages before the water finally began to go back into the sea and a relative came to my rescue,” the 67-year-old grandmother recalled with a penetrating voice indicative of her will to survive.
Although the small island of Koh Ra off the west coast of Thailand had been Poon’s home since birth, she had to leave following the Andaman tsunami last December. Now she’s struggling to return.
Poon Klatalay (right) |
Her village was devastated. Her eldest son and nephew perished when their fishing boats overturned in the giant waves.
“Fortunately, my daughter and her family were already on the mainland. She was trying to see a doctor for her heart condition, but my son-in law watched his fishing boat disappear after running for safety away from the pier,” Poon added. |
Ten hours later they were among more than 1,000 refugees covering the grounds of Wat Samakhitham in Phang-nga’s Kuraburi district about 10 kilometres from Koh Ra.
“A boat finally came to retrieve us,” continued Poon. “By the time we reached the temple it was dark, I was still soaking wet wearing the only possessions I had left, a sarong and blouse. I just laid down on the ground, exhausted, and went to sleep.”
Today, Poon was back in dry clothes, her silvery hair reflecting the afternoon sunlight like the shells on a beach as she recanted this opening chapter of her 10-month separation from her island home.
Poon is of Moken heritage, a semi-nomadic, sea-faring people believed to be among the original inhabitants of the Andaman region. Her family name, Klatalay, means “brave the sea”. Development of the Andaman’s islands and coastlines has now confined most of Thailand’s few thousands remaining Moken to permanent settlements like Poon’s on Koh Ra.
“Things are certainly improving for us now,” stressed Poon at a new house not far from Wat Samakhitham. “My first shelter at the temple was a one-meter-high tent I shared with my two other grandchildren.”
The family later moved into one of the temporary houses built by several donors at Wat Samakhitham – although the tin-roofed, wooden hut was a cramped space for all six of them. Today, their new living quarters are a bit more comfortable, with two bedrooms, electricity and plumbing.
“What we’re really waiting for is the final piece I need to finish my boat,” said Poon’s son-in-law, Sunthorn Limsakul, 40. “That will enable me to start earning an income again.”
Having finally received some government compensation for his lost boat, along with private donations, the family’s new boat is nearly set to return to the sea.
“Everyone here has been so generous,” emphasised Poon’s daughter, Prana, 29. “Were it not for all the help, I believe my heart disease may have killed me.”
Still, Poon and Prana hope to return to Koh Ra. Tears fall from Poon’s eyes as the topic is raised. “I want to have our independent life back. We could get almost everything we needed from the sea. That land was my parents’, and if we don’t get back soon enough, it may be taken from us,’ she pleaded.
“Life on the sea is full of risk, but that’s my home,” Poon admitted, “And if I have to climb another coconut tree I will.”
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