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By Andrew Marshall
Posted Monday, October 3, 2005; 21:00 HKT
Thailand's Phi Phi islands are close to paradise—the soaring limestone cliffs and aquamarine waters of the archipelago have enchanted thousands, and in 2000 were the setting for The Beach, starring Leonardo DiCaprio. But paradise was seemingly lost on Dec. 26, when the tsunami slammed into the main tourist island of Phi Phi Don, killing more than 700 people and flattening shops, restaurants and guesthouses. The Thai authorities declared the island uninhabitable.
Enter a remarkable group called Help International Phi Phi, or Hi Phi Phi, a unique collaboration of foreign volunteers and local Thais, which has transformed the shattered resort's fortunes. "It was the island of death," recalls Emiel Kok, 42, a former dive instructor on Phi Phi, who flew out to Thailand from his native Netherlands after the tsunami hit. "It smelled awful. There were bodies everywhere. The streets were man-high in debris."
Kok created Hi Phi Phi with a handful of other foreign tourists and expatriates. The first priority was to feed and house hundreds of Thai refugees from Phi Phi living in makeshift camps near the mainland town of Krabi. The group also pinned up hand-written leaflets at nearby backpacker haunts, appealing for volunteers to clean up the island. Soon they came, a few young backpackers at first, then scores of tourists of all ages and nationalities—a symbol of the way the world rallied to aid the millions devastated by the tsunami.
The cleanup began with the help of local Thai refugees, whom Hi Phi Phi hired and paid. It was physically and emotionally bruising work. Volunteers toiled in brutal temperatures with picks, shovels and their bare hands. They unearthed bodies and body parts, and found hundreds of passports and ID cards, crucial evidence for families still searching for loved ones. They cleared streets, repainted guesthouses and replanted palm trees—and, in the evenings, downed tools and raised glasses at the reopening of another bar or restaurant, giving businesses desperately needed custom. "People here lost families, businesses, everything," says guesthouse owner Lee Srisangad, 52. "Hi Phi Phi gave us hope."
More than 2,000 volunteers from dozens of countries have now passed through Hi Phi Phi. While some are survivors from Dec. 26 and others had relatives who died on the island, most volunteers simply heard about the cleanup through the backpacker circuit. "People watched the tsunami on television and wanted to help, but the big aid agencies already had their own people," says Kok. "Hi Phi Phi gave volunteers an opportunity to do something." Some came with skills ranging from carpentry to town planning, but much of the work was straightforward. "Sometimes just putting your arm around someone helped," says Kok. "You saw the difference. You saw the smiles reappearing on local people's faces."
The group's website still gets 60,000 hits per day, and has become a meeting place and support group for survivors, the bereaved and former volunteers. But Hi Phi Phi no longer appeals for volunteers—the cleanup is almost complete—and instead assists locals in setting up charities to aid long-term reconstruction and care for island children, many of them tsunami orphans. "Our task is over," says Kok. What endures is Hi Phi Phi's legacy: the part it played in resurrecting paradise.
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