Tiny bodies everywhere: single child policy compounds the griefTHE bodies are everywhere. Some are zipped inside white vinyl bags and strewn on the ground. Others have been covered in a favourite blanket or dressed in new clothes. There are so many bodies that undertakers want to cremate them in groups. They were all children.
"Our grief is incomparable," said Li Ping, 39, as he and his wife carefully pulled a pair of pink pyjamas over the bruised, naked body of their eight-year-old daughter, Ke. "We got married late, and had a child late. She is our only child."
The earthquake that struck Sichuan province on Monday claimed tens of thousands of lives across China. But the awful scene at this morgue is a sad reminder that too many of the dead are children in a country where most families can have only one.
These children symbolised the earthquake's seemingly indiscriminate cruelty. But the cruelty, in the eyes of their parents, was also man-made.
Several schools in nearby Dujiangyan collapsed while classes were under way. On Tuesday, Prime Minister Wen Jiabao made emotional visits to two of them, including Xinjian Primary School, where parents say officials told him the death toll was 20 pupils.
But enraged parents at the morgue say officials lied to the prime minister to hide the true toll at Xinjian, which they estimate at more than 400 dead children.
Several parents blamed local officials for a slow initial rescue response and questioned the structural safety of the school building. They also were furious that officials forbade them to search for their children for two days and were then allowed access to the bodies only after they formed an ad hoc committee to complain about their treatment.
"Before Wen Jiabao came, the whole school was filled with children's bodies," said one mother who sat outdoors at the morgue with her husband in the early morning darkness beside the covered body of their eight-year-old daughter.
"Her father and I had stood outside the school since the earthquake. We pleaded with the government, 'If she is dead, I want to see the body. If she is alive, I want to see her.'"
The morgue is located an hour outside Dujiangyan on an isolated rural road, yet the car park was filled at 1.50am on Thursday. Parents and other family members clustered around the bodies of their children. Some burned fake money to bring their lost child good fortune in the afterlife. In one room, 25 small bodies were scattered on the floor. Some children had already been taken away.
"There are more in there," said a man in a blue shirt, pointing to a rear door. He walked outside to a covered walkway and paused. Scores of bodies, covered with sheets, were lined in two long rows on the concrete floor.
Others were placed in an adjacent room. Parents sobbed or sat silently beside bodies.
"They are all students," said the man in the blue shirt. "Look," he said pointing to a red-and-white jacket folded beside one body. "That is the school uniform." He pointed to a Mickey Mouse backpack. "There is a book bag."
The two rows of bodies led to an open door that led to the large steel furnaces used for cremation. In China, the dead are almost always cremated, usually fairly soon after death. Usually, there is enough time for funeral ceremonies and rituals, but parents said officials at the morgue were worried about cremating so many bodies. Some parents have now been asked if their children could be cremated with dead friends to save time.
Parents say they were only allowed to begin identifying their children on Wednesday. The bodies had remained inside the grounds of Xinjian Primary School for two days until officials began transporting them to the morgue on Wednesday.
The earthquake struck at 2.28pm on Monday, and many parents rushed immediately to the school, which taught about 600 pupils, aged seven to 12. When they arrived, most of the building had collapsed.
"We pleaded with the administrators to help us," said one mother, Chen Li, who came to the morgue on Wednesday to identify her son. "We yelled, 'Where are the soldiers? Send them to help us!'"
Parents say neighbours and students from a nearby college arrived by 4pm to help with the digging. Local officials and school administrators also came but then left after inspecting the site.
Two more hours passed before a large group of paramilitary police officers arrived and told the parents to leave because the area was too dangerous. Parents were relocated outside the school gate, unable to watch as the officers began digging.
Chen said her son, Zhang Yuanxin, was discovered on the same day as the earthquake but was then left uncovered in the rain with other bodies on the school playground. She said two large trucks arrived early on Wednesday morning and carried the bodies away shortly before Wen arrived.
"I think there were 50 bodies in two trucks that were carried away," Chen said. "I asked those people, 'Are you taking the bodies away?'"
But she said local officials lied to her and said they were only taking away tents.
Crisis opens door to former enemiesHoward W French and Edward Wong
in MianyangCHINA has departed from past diplomatic practice, seeking disaster relief experts and heavy equipment needed for rescue operations from neighbours it has long shunned as rivals or renegades.
Officials on Thursday asked long-time rival Japan to send 60 earthquake rescue experts, the first such team China has accepted from a foreign country during the current crisis and one of the few official relief missions China has ever accepted from abroad. This week it also accepted help from at least three private relief teams from Taiwan, the self-governing island with which China has long had tense relations.
The decision to seek outside help reflects the fact that the search for survivors of Monday's massive earthquake and the struggle to accommodate hundreds of thousands of displaced people from the mountainous region around the epicentre of the quake are too much for China to handle alone, even after it mobilised 130,000 army soldiers, security forces and medics for relief work.
But the selective invitations to Japan and Taiwan – some foreign nations that have offered aid have so far been told their services are not needed – will also show that China sees disaster relief as a tactical tool to improve ties with neighbours and soften its international image ahead of the Olympic Games in Beijing in August.
One Chinese relief official called the invitations to a relatively small number of overseas teams "rescue diplomacy". China has been eager to secure international goodwill in what has so far been a trying diplomatic year for the country, with crises involving Tibet, human rights, and pressure to reduce support for the Sudanese government.
Both Japan and Taiwan have extensive experience with earthquakes. Japan in particular lies along an active fault and suffered a major quake in Kobe in 1995.
"This is of course very meaningful politically," said a Chinese relief official in Shanghai. "It means we're opening up and merging with international society. The biggest news is that Japanese are allowed into China. We're in the big family of rescue efforts now."
A Burmese child waits for aid supplies in the rain. Photograph: Getty Images
SPECIAL REPORT FROM BOGALE, BURMA
Victims vanish in the disaster that dare not speak its name
IT IS a disaster still shrouded in secrecy. The world is growing accustomed to seeing images of devastation, from earthquakes or calamitous storms, as they unfold. Here the military dictatorship continues to cordon off the areas worst hit by Cyclone Nargis on May 3, so little is known about the extent of the devastation, how aid is reaching those in need – or extraordinary stories of survival and death like that of Than Lwin.
When the surging water ripped apart his house, he and his family scrambled on to their small boat in a futile attempt to outrun the cyclone. The boat capsized when a giant wave crashed on to it, and Than Lwin began a six-hour battle for his life, grasping for anything that would keep him afloat amid the churning seawater.
"The water was so high, sometimes I touched the tops of trees," he said. When the storm finally passed at dawn, Than Lwin was miles away from home, on Main Ma Hla island in the mouth of the Irrawaddy Delta. He and 26 other survivors found a boat that was intact and used their hands to paddle to the mainland, passing dozens of bodies along the way.
Of the 7,000 people who lived in his village, only 600 survived. His parents and siblings disappeared, and he assumes they are dead.
With so little information coming from the vulnerable villages along the coast, the extent of the damage and the death toll may never be known. But it is possible to piece together from scattered accounts from survivors, diplomats and aid groups a picture of a storm of immense power followed by a woefully inadequate rescue effort.
On Wednesday, the International Committee of the Red Cross, which has assisted in virtually every conflict and disaster for decades estimated up to 127,990 people had died. With cases of cholera now being reported, the fate of up to 2.5 million people left clinging to survival hangs in the balance.
The military government that has kept a tight grip on this country for more than four decades has tried to keep foreign eyes, and cameras, away from the epicentre of the damage. The police blockaded the lower reaches of the delta, setting up checkpoints at bridges along the few roads that link it to Rangoon, the commercial capital.
With few exceptions, foreigners are barred from entering the area. This reporter, whose name is being withheld to avoid detection by the government, was able to reach some, but not all, of the worst-affected areas by hiding in the bottom of a boat.
The major southern towns of the Irrawaddy Delta – Bogale, Pyapon and Labutta – suffered severe damage in the storm, but it is the hundreds of fishing and rice-farming villages closer to the sea where the greatest number of people died. In those villages, where houses are typically made of bamboo lashed together with thin strips of wood, survivors are counted in the hundreds and the dead in the thousands.
"The only thing left is the ground," said Tin Nyunt, a betel nut seller in Bogale, referring to two villages near the sea, Hi Gyi and Maw Kyune. "Everything else was blown away."
When the skies darkened in the early afternoon of May 2, those affluent enough in this impoverished area to own radios only heard reports from state broadcasters about the arrival of strong winds.
"The wind sounded like an airplane engine," said Daw Sein, a relatively affluent rice farmer who rode out the storm in her sturdy teak-frame house with water up to her waist. Others said the wind was so loud that you could not hear someone shouting next to you. "You couldn't even hear the sound of a tree trunk cracking," said Myint Oo, the headman of Ma Ngay Gyi, where more than 250 villagers were killed.
When the storm hit land in the late afternoon, heading due east, it was a Category 4 cyclone, the second most dangerous type, with winds reaching 155 mph. In the early evening, as the storm travelled over the delta, villagers stood huddled together in their houses as a series of waves crashed down, each larger than the last. Like the tsunami of 2004, some waves were higher than eight feet, villagers said; but unlike the tsunami, the largest waves struck at night, leaving villagers scrambling to survive in the dark.
Kyaw Swe, a clothing trader, said his bamboo house started shaking so violently during the storm that he went outside. But when he waded into the paddies, a giant wave swept him away. He was transported by the water about a mile from his home before he was able to grab on to a tree branch. "Nobody and nothing could help me – except the tree," he said, squatting near the spot where his house once stood.
Myint Oo, the village headman, said the most vulnerable were those who lived in open areas. The majority of victims in his village were those living in huts in the rice fields who tried to run back to the village. After the storm, he recovered 70 of their bodies and buried them in mass graves. The rest of the bodies had been washed away.
During three days of travelling by boat in the delta a week after the storm, this reporter saw 66 bodies floating in canals or hidden among shrubs along riverbanks. But the question remains: where have the thousands of bodies gone?
There appear to be no pictures of fields of bodies as in the tsunami in 2004. Pictures taken immediately after the storm show dozens of bodies in the area around Labutta on May 3 and 4.
But villagers interviewed say emphatically that the death toll was high, but as happened on the west coast of Indonesia in direct line of the tsunami three years ago, most of the dead were washed out to sea.
The inability to retrieve bodies has compounded the grief of people who lost family members. Zaw Ayea, who is 27, was at his boss's house during the storm. When he returned to his destroyed home, he found his sister's body. His mother and two younger brothers are missing and presumed dead. That is the account given by his friends; Zaw Ayea cannot speak. He stares straight ahead with a strangely placid expression on his face. His friends say he has been in shock since the cyclone.
Although some of them smile when they talk to a visitor, villagers are clearly scarred by the death all around them. "There is a ghost here at night, every night," said Khin Maung Win, a farmer in the village of Gwe Choung, where half the population of 200 was killed by the storm. The ghost, he says, throws rice in his face.
San Nge, who at 81 is the oldest survivor interviewed for this article, says that the day after the storm he heard a girl shouting for help. "I went over, and no one was there," he said.
For most villagers in the southern parts of the delta there was nowhere to hide when the storm hit. The delta is a vast, low-lying series of peninsulas and islands that even in the driest of periods of the year are flush with water. Residents of the delta travel almost everywhere by boat.
Before the mid-19th century, the area was a thinly inhabited swamp. But the British colonial rulers saw this as an ideal place to cultivate rice and help feed their empire. They built dykes and drained the land. In the twilight years of British rule, colonial Burma was the world's largest rice exporter and millions of Burmese moved here to cultivate the rich alluvial soil. The government says that 6.3 million people lived in the delta before the storm.
It will not take much to get villagers back on their feet in these areas because they had so little to begin with. Being affluent in the delta means having some furniture and a house made of concrete or hardwood instead of bamboo.
Farmers till their fields with buffalo pulling a plough. Now they lack both buffaloes and rice seed. During this reporter's period spent in the delta, several times as many buffaloes could be seen floating dead on the water as were grazing on land. Villages in the delta often have dedicated ponds and large ceramic jars to store drinking water. Many of those jars have broken and the pond water has been blackened from the hay and foliage rotting in it.
Distribution of food to the destitute villagers has been uneven, where it exists at all. Some villages say they have not seen anyone from the government, while others say the military gave them rations of rice to last a few days.
In the city of Bogale, where most houses lost their roofs, residents said the military supplied each household with three cups of rice immediately after the storm. Then the army began selling portions of rice for 600 kyat, about 55 cents.
A motorcycle taxi driver said he had seen only two foreign aid workers since the storm. The military's policy has been to allow foreign aid but bar foreign disaster relief experts.
In refugee camps there appears to be enough rice, partly because wealthy Burmese have been dropping off bags of food in recent days.
Than Lwin, who now sleeps on the concrete floor of a Buddhist temple that serves as a makeshift camp for refugees, is starting from zero. He was naked when he landed on Main Ma Hla island because the storm had ripped off all of his clothes. He now has a shirt and sarong but still needs a blanket. Twenty-six years old, he has no plan.
"I have nothing," he said. "I will do anything to survive."
How you can help cyclone and earthquake victims
SCIAF, Scotland's Catholic Aid Agency, is getting aid into Burma through its partners on the ground. Send funds to help provide support to survivors at www.sciaf.org.uk.
Mercy Corps is accepting donations for both the Burma cyclone region and the central China earthquake zone (www.mercycorps.org.uk).
The Scotland-China Association (www.scotchina.org) is also collecting donations for earthquake relief that will be sent to the Chinese Consulate-General in Edinburgh. Cheques payable to the Scotland-China Association can be sent to Bill Halliday, Treasurer, Scotland-China Association, 35 Lady Menzies Place, Edinburgh EH7 5BA or at http://uk.china-embassy.org/eng/.
Plan UK is collecting funds for immediate emergency response in the Burmese cyclone region at www.plan-uk.org.
The International Rescue Committee is offering aid to victims of Cyclone Nargis. It is collecting funds at www.theirc.org.
Google is matching donations for earthquake relief at www.google.com/chinaearthquake.
Disasters Emergency Committee, comprising 13 aid agencies, is still collecting for the Myanmar Cyclone Appeal. Go to www.dec.org.uk or call 0870 60 60 900.
The British Red Cross is providing family kits, tents and clean water to survivors of the south-west China earthquake. Donate at www.redcross.org.uk, call the 24-hour phoneline on 0845 054 7201 or by post. Send cheques payable to the British Red Cross China Earthquake Appeal to British Red Cross, PO Box 1217, Sunderland, SR9 9WD.
Contact other charities for China and Burma at www.justgiving.com.
The full article contains 3167 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
