Having survived the cyclone, the struggle now is for survival. First there is the scramble for fresh water, with long lines all over Rangoon to buy it by the bucketload at three times the price it was before the cyclone.
Then there is the hunt for shelter among the debris in a city where more homes are now without roofs than with them and, as desperation grows, there are reports of looting in some markets. Huge queues snake from those petrol stations still functioning. Fuel has doubled in price.
In Shwe Pauk Kan township in Rangoon most of the houses have been largely or totally destroyed. People are crammed into the few remaining large buildings, including a school housing 600 children, 450 women and 250 men. The head, U Maung Maung Aye, opened it to anyone who could make it. He shows off a well and a small generator allowing clean water to be pumped. But without assistance, he said, he didn’t know how long he could feed people.
”I have 1 300 refugees who have lost their homes and have nothing left and needed a place to sleep, gather their small belongings and a place to dry them. I am providing them with two meals out of the generosity of donors. I have two pregnant ladies and they are soon due,” he said.
Among those who took refuge in the school was Shwe Zin, who showed me her stitched hand and bandaged head. ”The roof came down on me. I got off lightly but my 19-year-old son is at the hospital with a serious head trauma. A fireman came to save us but he also got injured,” she said.
Few were prepared for what happened, which goes some way to explain a death toll in the tens of thousands, which may yet rise further. Earlier this week more than 22 000 were confirmed dead, with 41 000 still missing. The authorities had said the cyclone would hit much further north but, as the rains intensified, the meteorological department warned that it was changing course, gathering strength and heading for Rangoon.
Despite the warning, most people went to bed with little idea of what to expect. By midnight on Friday the 200kph winds were whipping Rangoon as the cyclone began its crawl through the city. It was not only the power of the storm that terrified; its staying power was deadly. It felt like it went on for ever, ripping at our sturdy house, shattering glass, ripping away part of the roof, dumping huge amounts of water into the exposed rooms. A large mango tree threatened to crush the children’s room so we took shelter in the heart of the house and wondered what it must be like for most of the Burmese, who live in homes that would have been swept away.
By Saturday afternoon, when the wind and rain had finally stopped, the city was a wreck. One hundred-year-old trees had been uprooted, lamp-posts twisted, electricity poles snapped.
The once green city and its magnificent banian and teak trees and mangoes — which just a day earlier were splashing red and yellow all over town — were gone for good. The landscape had been transformed into an unrecognisable grey mess.
Only on Sunday did the police, fire brigade and military start clearing the main roads. Equipped as they were only with machetes and small saws, their task looked almost impossible.
Anyone familiar with Burma will know how resourceful and resilient the population is. With no help and few tools the people of Rangoon managed to clear many parts of their townships and roads. The priority was to get some sort of roofing or protection from further rain. By Sunday night people were queueing, and sometimes fighting, for nails in the local shops. Store owners were rationing them as angry customers were told their price had tripled.
”There is going to be blood,” said a ferry passenger, pointing toward his village on the other side of the river, as he travelled in to Rangoon in search of food. ”No one cares about us on the outskirts of the city. The army and police are not helping … I am spending more [to get to Rangoon] than I am earning and I will not be able to buy food next week.” — Â