Snapshots of higher ground

Children who lived through the tsunami get a chance to photograph a better life
The excitement of the children making a playground of Bangkok's sky-high Foreign Correspondents Club is understandable, because there are photographs of them covering the walls. It's a pleasant surprise, too, because two years ago these kids were at the horrific centre of the tsunami. There are eight youngsters - two Moken, two Burmese, two Muslim Thais and two Buddhist Thais. As guests arrive, the children scurry from one photograph to another, pointing out their favourites. The 106 shots look professional, but they - and the written stories included in each frame - are the work of these brave little survivors. The exhibition, finishing on Wednesday, is the fruit of photography workshops begun a year ago in Banda Aceh by Japanese photojournalist Masaru Goto. The initial participants - 13 children in an Aceh village that had been devastated by the waves - were joined by 64 other young Indonesians and 65 kids from Phang Nga. They all had tragedy in common, and now they shared the creative outlet of the camera. Countless outsiders visited the scene of the catastrophe taking pictures, says Suthep Kritsanavarin, another photojournalist, but the images they took away weren't "what the villagers wanted to tell the world". Goto, Suthep, Patrick de Noirmont, Wuttinun Jantori and other volunteers taught the child survivors how to use a camera to express their feelings. The workshop didn't focus on the tsunami, says de Noirmont. The youngsters were merely encouraged to think about their homes, environment and nature. "We tried to make them forget, and to befriend others." The majority of the photos taken by the young Thais, most of whom live by the sea, tell stories about their lives after the tsunami. People smile as they cook, watch TV or head out fishing, while kids play on the beach. In short, these are the activities they were used to before the tragedy. There are some references to the disaster, but they're positive. Kapkaew Leebamrung has captured a delightful moment when her friend was hanging upside down by a rope in front of the police patrol boat that was famously hurled far inland by a mighty wave. Aung Win Htay has taken pictures of somtam, because it was his favourite meal during the workshop. The Moken family of 12-year-old Theera Khongthip lost their house in the disaster. His photos show fishing boats and the Andaman - he doesn't care for images of the tsunami and its destruction. "I don't like those pictures from Indonesia," he says of other photos in the show. "Most of them look really sad. I like how we actually are now." The three 10-day workshops helped the children shake off a lot of anguish and find new freedom, says Wuttinun. A quiet 14-year-old girl among his pupils had lost her family, then, with a camera, found release. She came up with lovely candid shots of her friends talking and playing by the shore. She felt lonely and needed attention that hadn't been forthcoming, Wuttinun explains, so she kept watching others through the lens. "She's become very observant, and her photos are very natural." Wareewan Tunsakul, 11, from Baan Muang School, is proud of her photographs - she'd never had the chance to use a camera before - but the print she likes best in the exhibition is by Jaree Srisukkaew. It shows two kids running toward a boat near a stand of mangrove. The area was one of the worst hit, says Wareewan, "but the picture of the kids playing doesn't tell any sadness or suffering anymore". Another Baan Muang student, 13-year-old Jaree, took a series of pictures of mangrove trees because she'd learned since the tsunami that they could soften a tsunami's blow. "If I'd known before, I'd have told everyone that these kind of trees could protect us from disaster." Environmental awareness aside, Jaree is now also saving up for a camera of her own and, surprising for a child who never liked writing before, has begun keeping a journal. "I now know it's a way that I can write about my own life," she says.
Sirinya Wattanasukchai The Nation
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