Zai Whitaker’s column | Tragedy on the great Nicobar; a story of the 2004 tsunami in two parts

– With Dr. Manish Chandi

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Some conversations are etched in one’s heart, and this was one of them. I was with Saw Agu from ANET, the Madras Crocodile Bank field station in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. We were talking about his almost incredible adventure in Great Nicobar, during the tsunami of December 2004.

“What a terrible time for you,” I said. “What horrors have you suffered!”

“Yeah. I was so worried about where the others were, what was happening to them.”

Having listened to his story in detail, this sounded like a saint’s response.

For the background of this, we need to rewind to 1978-79. The Sea Turtle Man, Satish Bhaskar, was on our field study team at Madras Snake Park and had completed a now famous eight month old sea turtle study on the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. He was locating sea turtle nesting areas and levels of exploitation so that a conservation plan could be drawn up and presented to the government. Your report on the Great Nicobar Island, in one of our Hamadryad informative bulletins, mentions that “around 80 leatherback turtle excavations were found on the beaches that extend over the mouths of the Alexandria and Dagmar rivers.”

This was all the more reason to establish a field station at this incredible biodiversity hotspot. It finally materialized in 1989; ANET, the Andaman and Nicobar environmental team, was established in Wandoor in South Andaman. Over the next 15 years, many more surveys and studies were conducted. Aside from the four species of sea turtles that nest on the archipelago’s beaches – the green, leatherback, hawksbill and parrot – there were many other reptiles: some endemic, found nowhere else. Young researchers came from universities to undertake pioneering fieldwork, and many were assisted by one of Karen’s ANET field assistants, many of whom are from the Karen community. The British brought the Karens to the Andaman Islands in 1925 for their forestry operations, and their knowledge of the archipelago’s jungles and backwaters is legendary.

Dr. Ambika Tripathi from Orissa was one of these sea turtle researchers, and Saw Agu his field assistant. It was Christmas 2004, and they were on the Galathea River, south of Alexandra and Dagmar, in fact at the southern tip of Great Nicobar Island, which is only 180 km from the Indonesian island of Sumatra. The sandy cove at the mouth of the Galathea, South Bay, was a nesting beach for leatherback turtles and the base of one of ANET’s annual camps. It was called Point 41, because it was located 41 km south of Campbell Bay on the main road. Most of the island is part of the Great Nicobar Biodiversity Reserve and one of the last great wilderness areas in our country.

The nesting season for the leatherback turtle was in full swing. Like all sea turtles, the female comes ashore to a sandy beach to nest. Usually this is a nighttime activity and involves digging a nest hole about 18 inches deep, laying her eggs, covering it, and then creating a “dummy nest” by digging another (shallower) hole and covering it as well. This is done to fool predators; Who said reptiles are dumb? But predation is on the rise due to the numbers of stray dogs, a growing concern on all of India’s sea turtle beaches.

Agu (right), two years after the tsunami

Ambika and Agu departed after dinner on their nightly turtle walk, leaving the four “Pune bird watchers” sleeping in the camp. These were tourists who had asked to accompany the leatherback team south to Great Nic. They would watch birds, they had said, while Saw Agu and Ambika did their turtle things. There were also two forest guards who used the camp while on official duty.

The two exhausted turtles returned shortly before dawn, took out their sleeping bags and mosquito nets (for sandflies) and soon fell asleep soundly. But a couple of hours later, they woke up startled by a tremendous shaking and shaking of the earth. Agu must have known immediately what it was; Small earthquakes with magnitudes of about 4 are an annual feature. But this was different. Later I would find out that it was more than 9 on the scale. Running towards the beach, he and Ambika found that the others were there as well, and the group watched as the sea receded further and further … and then they rushed back, scattering their belongings on the beach. The earthquakes continued, the sea ebbed … and then again that explosive explosion of water.

Instinctively, Agu knew two things: time was short and they had to get to high ground. ‘To run! Bhago! ‘he urged his companions, pointing to the hills behind them. But unfortunately, as so often happens, a crucial time was missed when they started collecting valuable personal belongings to take with them. By the time they left, things had gotten worse. They looked back and saw the sea engulf their camp. When they reached the road, the forest checkpoint collapsed and he was swept away.

Agu led his companions to the bridge over the Galathea, the highest point of which was still over the water. His plan was to head towards the town of Chingenh further down the road. He was near the base of a ridge, from where he could take them to higher ground. Wading through chest-deep water they crossed the bridge and came to the large peepal tree on the other side.

Read also: The Zai Whitaker column | A lockout dispatch from the Madras Crocodile Bank

But then he realized that they would never make it; the water was rising too fast and the big wave would soon be upon them. They had to climb the peepal and fast. He and the forest guards helped the others, and soon they were all at least five meters from the forest floor that was now rapidly disappearing. They waited.

The 15-meter wave came with a roar of rage. Agu recalls the sound and the accompanying sound of trees breaking as the water plowed through the forest. Great old trees fell like matchsticks, including the one they were there. His next memory is of being thrown into dark, turbulent and smelly water, as if by a ruthless giant hand. Stunned and injured, he called out to the others, assuming they were somewhere nearby, in the mess of water and tree debris.

The second part of this column appears on September 27.

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Author and Conservationist Zai Whitaker is the Trustee – Madras Crocodile Bank Trust / Center for Herpetology