I noticed that many going in the opposite direction had disbelief written all over their faces. I soon found out the reason as the sight that greeted me was one of utter chaos. An assortment of vehicles, including tractors, army trucks and ambulances, pushed their way through the single small road that led to the tragic site. Residents were pulling suitcases in the rain, some carrying plastic bags filled with valuable belongings.

Near the site, houses that featured in lifestyle magazine-types were bare of any life, its occupants having left earlier in the day.

Some of these houses were being used as makeshift operation centres. Hundreds of members of the armed forces, police, Fire and Rescue Department, search and rescue personnel were on alert to respond to developments.

My mind raced back to a not-too-distant past when I read about the Highland Towers disaster in 1993; the shock and horror of survivors vividly captured and immortalised in news reports. I recall visiting the site of the condominium after all the commotion had ended; finding handphones, clothing and other everyday items amidst the remaining debris. Here, 15 years on, merely 1.5km away, like a déjà-vu from hell, history was repeating itself.

From conversation, I found out that the rescue efforts to reach survivors in the landslide involved more than personnel. This included three medical teams and ambulances at the scene. As we walked back, I saw a few four-wheel drives displaying Mercy Malaysia stickers making their way to the site. These were volunteers, not part of the rescue personnel statistic.

I tried calling a few Umno Youth colleagues from Ampang and Pandan but they were not reachable; later I learned they were already part of a larger team, clearing up the jungle to make a pathway for the unfortunate residents. Their work only stopped after being told that there were still earth movements in the area.

On the second day I was there, I saw a bridge being erected to provide access. One of the first cars that went across the bridge was my relative’s. I greeted him and amidst the apparent shock, I could sense a tinge of relief attributable to the fact that his ordeal had met with some temporary respite.

The third day coincided with Hari Raya Aidiladha. Incidentally, this day centres on Qorban (sacrifice). As such, I was pleasantly surprised to see the Umno operations centre filled to the brim on this public holiday. When other Malaysians were with their loved ones in the kampung, these men and women braved the rain to be of service to their neighbours.

I managed to chat briefly with some of them, who relayed to me their intention of setting up a fund for the victims. I couldn’t help but make the connection of how apt these deeds are to the very meaning of sacrifice.

Amidst the rubble and the mess, I ironically found consolation that there were men, who despite having little or no control over the forces of nature, remaining steadfast and providing collective strength to those devastated by the tragic event and its aftermath that were unfolding.

The consolation was, alas, shortlived. My friend whom I had asked to accompany me to the site had his car broken into and a bag stolen. I joined the chorus of many left shocked and disgusted at hearing a victim’s mother-in-law reveal at a Press conference that the family returned to their home to find that it had been looted. She said many things were missing from what was left of her home, among them six watches valued at around RM90,000, rings and gold bangles.

The rules of society require us to live with the fact that in life, there are the good who act in the spirit of duty and volunteerism; the bad like the spontaneous acts of nature; and in certain instances the ugly, like the looters who obviously couldn’t give a hoot that this is an essential time of need.

The evil that men do… 

(Pictures courtesy of Dil Ishak)