Sympathy for Tsunami victims
FLAGS ACROSS the city were flying at half mast last week as a three minute silence was observed in remembrance of victims of the Asian tsunami.
Several Oxford students and tutors were caught up in the tragedy, which devastated parts of Asia and has prompted an unprecedented relief effort across the region.
Oxford Vice Chancellor Dr John Hood, has expressed his "great sadness" at the events, and pledged that the University itself will donate £5,000.
Both OUSU and college JCRs hope to add significantly to this figure.
OUSU Vice President for Charities Ian King is hoping to organise a big musical event in response to the situation, involving groups both from Oxford itself and elsewhere, with the Town Hall and Union Debating Chamber being suggested as possible venues.
Other ideas include a Rock Student/Zoo night at Park End on Monday, with all takings going straight to the Disasters Emergency Committee (DEC).
Many JCRs are also planning events, with King planning to ask them to pool all money raised, and present it to the DEC as a unified donation on behalf of the students of Oxford University.
In addition, the Oxford Indian Society plans to hold cultural events and film screenings to raise money for a number of charities and projects working in the affected areas.
Secretary Saranya Sridhar said: "Rebuilding entire towns and lives will take months of continuous effort and a prolonged presence of charitable and specialist organisations," stressing "appropriate distribution of aid is vital".
Elsewhere in the city, fundraising efforts are being made by a variety of different groups.
A charity concert will be held on 26th January at the Sheldonian Theatre, with performers to include ITN newscaster Nicholas Owen and perhaps Rory Bremner.
On 27th January, the Oxford University Islamic Society Tsunami Appeal is holding a dinner at Wadham College, where Sheikh Riyad Nadwi will be delivering a lecture on compassion in Islam.
The Muslim Community has also been active in the town centre, collecting money in Cornmarket Street where they have already raised £10,000 - a figure Dr Ramzy, co-ordinating the effort, was hoping to double.
Looking to the long term however, a spokesperson from the charity Oxfam stressed that the organisation will be working "long after the cameras have gone", while King has noted that "no-one's holding a pause button on everything else that's going on in the world", and emphasised the fact that OUSU remained committed to its planned programme of fundraising.
It is Boxing Day morning and I'm in a taxi with my mum and my aunt, driving back to our hotel from visiting a local village. We are heading by taxi through villages set along the coast, with simply a line of fragile wooden houses, separating us from the sea. I'm looking out the window and I remember a strange eery feeling coming over me. One image holds firm in my mind - a woman running past, clutching her baby and crying, her face contorted with terror. I see water tumbling in and people running, trying to get away from it, and the sea behind a whirlpool of froth. Our taxi was redirected up into the highlands and the moment we stopped, the doors were flung open and Sri Lankans scrambled in, a woman wailing in the front seat with four children clambering on top of her, heads bumping on the roof of the taxi, a man next to me with his three small children - 13 in the car in total. Half an hour later, on arrival at the hotel, we were immediately rushed to our rooms and told we had about ten minutes to clear out our belongings. I looked out over the balcony and saw the garden below us was a shredded mess of mud, sand and debris. We lugged our bags up to the safer fifth floor and stood looking out as the water tumbled in - slowly it seemed, but with so much power. It was the almost invisible force of the waves that was so breathtaking - shown with such emphasis when they hit the ground floor again, smashing through the windows and dragging out the belongings of visitors like us, hurling them around. Suitcases tossed open as clothes, hairdryers and flip -flops dispersed in the waves. At this point we couldn't find my sister. That awful panicky feeling kept creeping up on me as my mum and I went to search the rest of the hotel, both attempting to reason where she could have found safety, given that tidal waves of a relentless nature were surging in every half -hour or so. When the water was finally sucked back, people ventured onto the lawn to see which of their battered belongings they could locate. The waves continued throughout the day, with more and more people arriving from neighbouring hotels that had been completely demolished. Ours, built on stone, seemed to be the only one left standing after a day of aftershocks - each bringing in another wave, sucking the sand foundations from beneath the other hotels. People crowded the lobby, set up camp in the bar, and could do nothing but wait whilst darkness loomed and electricity still wasn't running. Our first floor rooms were not hit and we spent the night back in them, waking up early to help clear up the beach and garden. The beach was unbelievable - wreckage stretching along simply as far as the eye could see. We wandered about with huge bin -bags picking up plants, smashed lightbulbs, wood, sticks, bottles, clothes, cameras - but thankfully no bodies. Deafening helicopters patrolled around over our heads, with soldiers appearing dramatically, swaying on the ends of ropes. I presumed at the time that they were looking out for stranded victims in the sea, but apparently they were also preventing 'looters ' on the beach. People often talk about 'what ifs ', and these were ours: It turned out that my sister had been swimming in the sea just a couple of minutes before the first wave came, but got out thankfully because the currents were "scarily powerful ". For the three of us in the taxi, it must have been only five or ten minutes later that the village out of which we had been directed was hit by the full force of the second wave. It was only on the way to the airport, travelling back through this village, that the full horror of the situation hit me. I did not see a single house standing. Simply wooden planks, overturned cars and buses - and stunned wandering - Sri Lankans remained. As for my uncle and cousin, they managed to snore through the entire first wave and when they eventually arose and peered out the window, remarked in surprise that "everything looked a bit wet ".
13th Jan 2005