Ripples from the Wave: After the 2004 Tsunami

By Sandra Sweeney

On 26 December 2004, Australian ex-pat, Craig Baxter, drowned in the tsunami that engulfed Phi Phi Island, Thailand. He was one of some 270,000 souls over several continents who lost their lives that day in a matter of hours. 

Craig's Thai bride of nine months, Maliwan, was pregnant but miraculously survived. She still bears the physical and emotional scars of the worst natural disaster in recent history. 

When Maliwan accepted her mother-in-law Sandra's offer to help raise the child in Australia, life took a dramatic new direction for them both. The decade after the tsunami was a steep learning curve for the two women of different generations and cultures who shared no common language. 

The story includes Sandra's observations as a farang in three rites of passage in Thailand: her son's traditional wedding, his funeral only nine months later, and the birth of his and Maliwan's child.

The narrative is laced with humour, as misunderstandings lead to frustrations that are set aside in the interests of Demi, Australia's littlest tsunami survivor.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Sweeney
• Release date: Jan 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648347910

Book preview

Foreword, by Peter Beattie

Sandra Sweeney is an extraordinary person.

She epitomises what is at the heart of the Australian spirit. That is, tenacity, generosity and compassion.

Australians were moved by the loss of life and devastation resulting from the Boxing Day tsunami. As a nation, our compassion overflowed and we reached out to our neighbours to help. But often with such a catastrophic event like a tsunami, the individual pain and loss is hard to comprehend, submerged under the horrors of what happened.

The survivors impacted by the tsunami nevertheless have to rebuild their lives regardless of the pain and sorrow they endure from their personal losses. That is what Ripples from the Wave is all about.

In this cynical world in which we live, we need hope and inspiration. This journey of rebuilding after the tsunami by a young pregnant woman and an amazing and determined grandmother to be gives hope that there can be a better world. We just need more people like Sandra to help build it.

Peter Beattie AC

Preface

This is a story about losing my son, Craig, in the Boxing Day Tsunami, 2004 and dealing with the dilemma of his widowed Thai bride of nine months, Maliwan, and their baby that was unborn at the time of the tragedy. While an earthquake caused the massive, destructive wave on several continents, it was over in less than an hour. But the most destructive tsunami in recorded history left a path of devastation in its wake, taking the lives of more than a quarter of a million souls before subsiding back into the ocean, as though it had never existed. However, the ripples it left behind ebbed and flowed for many years to come, causing families to adjust to prevailing tides.

My motivation was to record the experience for future generations, but my inspiration was the unlikely image of large Australian men in a temple, dressed in the orange robes of monks, mourning the loss of a fallen mate, and the stark contrast of the Thai procedure with Australian funerals.

The book traverses three rites of passage in a foreign country, Thailand. They are a wedding, a funeral, and the birth of a child. It describes the trauma of searching for a loved one who has been lost in a natural disaster. It’s about a love affair and a traditional Thai wedding in a remote village, followed by tragedy and subsequently new life. It addresses the complexities of dealing with immigration and the cultural dilemmas that affect new migrants in Australia.

I told the story from my point of view as an Australian mother who, with my daughter Sheree, travels to Thailand for Craig’s wedding. It describes travel to remote places in Thailand where few westerners go and highlights cultural norms there that both confront and delight visitors, often comically. It gives an insight into how our government operates on behalf of its citizens in times of international disaster, and the vital role the internet plays in finding answers. The narrative penetrates complex issues of culture and language and how people who barely know each other are forced to overcome their differences and frustration to unite in a common cause.

In the early stages of writing this book, I did not know how it would end. I just had to be patient and hope it would come to me. It began as a brief book recording a foreign funeral. But circumstances compelled me to continue writing because the story didn’t end with the tsunami. In fact, that was just the beginning; its ripples, the repercussions, grew and extended for years, as the extent of the responsibility I had for Wan, the girl from the rice fields and her unborn child, became an all-consuming mission.

Given the magnitude of the tsunami regarding the 230,000–280,000 lives lost, stories about the event from various perspectives already exist. However, my story and my research stem from life experience from the time the news broke in Australia. I have lived the events in this book and I am still living them. I’ve visited the places and participated in the ceremonies. Therefore, I hope to satisfy some cultural curiosity in the reader.

Ripples from the Wave is a sad story with a happy ending and one that may encourage others to try to make a difference when they have the opportunity.

Acknowledgements

While writing this book, I have many people to thank and acknowledge for their continued support and expert advice. Thank you to my daughter-in-law, Maliwan Baxter, for her willingness to disclose memories both precious and painful. And to Dan De Behil for sharing his recollections of being with Craig as the wave came. Thanks to Sheree Baxter for her encouragement and collaboration on Facebook and Instagram profiles, and to Max and Norma McKeown for being reliable sounding boards. Without the persistent urging of my best friend, Chris Caughley, this book would not have been published. To Blake Wheaton, Jacqui Duncan and Suzanne Jolley for their consistent encouragement and support over the years. Thanks also to filmmaker, Malcolm Wai for editing my videos for the promo. The expertise, honesty and professionalism of editor, Gail Tagarro, has been invaluable in bringing this book to its conclusion. It’s been a pleasure to work with Kirsty Ogden on the cover design and book formatting. Any errors that remain are my own.

Chapter 1

5 January 2005

The Buddhist temple in Pattaya, Thailand was quiet except for the muted voices of groups of Thai mourners sitting on the floor at one end of the long hall. My two children were there. Sheree, my daughter, was sitting on my left. We had arrived in Bangkok from Brisbane at midnight the night before.

Craig, my son, was lying in a cream, gilt-edged coffin draped with twinkling fairy lights atop a tiered structure decorated with masses of pink and white flowers. He was one of more than a quarter of a million victims of the Boxing Day Tsunami.

On my right sat Maliwan, his Thai bride of just nine months and now, a widow.

In the pew in front of us were Craig’s friends. In the Thai funereal tradition of paying respects to a fallen mate, they were dressed in the orange robes of Buddhist monks. Their heads and eyebrows had been shaved. These muscular, tattooed young men in their prime looked emotionally frail, their shoulders heaving under the robes in barely controlled grief. It was a stark contrast to the laughter and enthusiasm earlier in the year at Craig’s and Maliwan’s wedding. Underscoring the sadness of the moment, a musical ensemble played a slow, mournful beat and I could see tears rolling down the cheek of one of Craig’s friends and dripping onto the orange cotton. I had reached out to touch his shoulders in comfort but then remembered that women are forbidden to touch a monk, temporary or otherwise.

The music stopped as 12 Thai monks entered. They trod softly in bare feet on the long, polished, dark timber platform that was about one and a half metres high and about six metres opposite the mourners. They sat facing us in the lotus position, a couple of metres apart, their orange robes in contrast to the white wall behind them. Then the chanting began. It was a mournful sound. We followed the Thais’ lead and placed our hands together in prayer. I was feeling sadness and dread, looking at the huge, gilt frame on an easel that bore a candid photograph of my laughing son, wearing a blue singlet. I focused on the picture for a while. My gaze then fixed on the structure beside Craig’s picture. Closer to the monks’ bench on another easel sat a massive wreath adorned with a banner stating, ‘Craig Baxter – from Miss Saigon Massage’. It was a bizarre moment with monks chanting, people crying and then this reminder of a life lived to the full. I glanced in Sheree’s direction. The creases in the corners of her red and swollen eyes indicated her acknowledgement of Craig’s sense of humour. He was laughing in the picture and would certainly be laughing at the message that was so at odds with this sombre ceremony. It would have appealed to his cheeky wit. Still trying to come to grips with being there, and the reason we were there, I focused again on the laughing picture in the frame and reflected on the time, less than a year before, when I had read Craig’s email that was my first link to Thailand.

Chapter 2

Out of the blue: Thailand?

Really?

Less than a year before the funeral, at home on the Gold Coast, Thailand had not existed in my consciousness until late one night when I read Craig’s email. For Sheree and me, it heralded a pivotal moment when everything changed. All that had happened before, and any plans we’ve made since, are located pre- or post-2004. The event that would shake us out of our comfort zone had already begun in a place far away, silently gaining speed and size and rolling towards us to engulf us within the year.

From: Craig Bangkok

To:

Date: Thursday, 29 January 2004 8:47 AM

Subject: marriage

Hey Mum, how are things??? Thought I should let you know that the prodigal son is getting married. The date is the 27th March this year. Maliwan (all the Aussies call her ‘Wan’), is beautiful, and I’m pretty much in love and have been for a year now. We are having the wedding in Nong Khai, a province on the Thai border with Laos. It will be in a Buddhist temple, a beautiful Thai wedding. It seems right Mum. I am a little bit fearful, but I’m looking forward to it too. It would be great if you and Sheree could come over here.

We are sending out invitations in a few weeks. Life is pretty beautiful at the moment. Things have turned around for me. We both work in Bangkok, I make decent money, and Wan is training to run a beauty salon, that we plan to buy. I even have money in the bank, Mum. Oh my god!

Anyway Mum, love, and light to you, Nan, Sheree, Beck and Matt, Max, Norma, Sian, and Beth. I hope life is good for everyone. I think about you quite a lot even if I forget to call you. I know, I’m hopeless. I will stay in touch as regularly as I can. Promise. Take care, and I love you dearly. Have attached a photo of Wan and me.

Love, Craig xxx

The picture showed Craig with a beautiful Asian girl in a red shirt. She had very long, shiny black hair, and they were sitting in a restaurant. They seemed to fit somehow. Scanning the picture, I wondered briefly about her level of English and the family she might come from, how he had met her and the usual questions a parent has. He seems happy, I thought.

I replied, congratulating him and ‘Maliwan’ and commenting on how lovely she looked in the picture and what an amazing wedding it would be in the Thai tradition. Then I slept on it. I’d see what developed, wait for the official invitation to convince me he was serious.

The sudden wedding announcement seemed at first like an impulsive decision but maybe not. I had not heard from Craig for a while and he had never been a frequent communicator. He had been living overseas for a couple of years and sent the occasional email or called at random times. Regardless, we always had good conversations when he took the time. For this reason, I smiled at his reference as the prodigal son. It suggested a person who was penitent or who had wasted time and opportunity, but it was not like him to look back and have regrets for longer than five minutes, so I hoped that part of Craig, the eternal optimist, had not changed over the years. Even so, his words revealed a hint of apology, as if he were saying, ‘OK, Mum, you know me so well, and although I’ve been a bit of a hopeless drifter at times in the past, I’m going to grow up now.’ I had a chuckle. At 36, it was about time, I thought. Yes. That was my boy, bright, intelligent, impulsive, unconventional, humorous, and totally lacking malice.

The next morning around 5.30, I drove the six minutes to my friend Chris’s place for our daily walk. We tried to squeeze in a 90-minute walk before work in the relative cool of the morning before the heat sapped every ounce of our energy. I’d met Chris working at the same school around 20 years before that. Although I had moved on some years before to do further study and work in other schools, she and I had remained part of a close-knit group of staff members from that era. It seems corny these days, but we were all Seinfeld addicts, loving the humour of the show. In some way, perhaps, its themes influenced our attitude to life. Our morning walks were as much about a social chat as exercise. We liked to solve the world’s problems, discuss politics and current events and keep up with stories about family and friends. The sessions always ended up with a good laugh to boost us for the day. I knew my story about the wedding would be the focal point of the discussion that day so as we headed off on our tour of the neighbourhood, I joked with Chris, knowing her reaction. You won’t believe this. Craig’s getting married!

What? Where is he now?

Still in Thailand. He’s marrying a Thai girl called Maliwan. He sent an email and a photo last night.

That’s wonderful! Do you think he means it? I mean, is he coming home for the wedding?

Nope. Getting married over there.

Really? Getting married in Thailand?

He says he is. Says he’s having a traditional Thai wedding up near the Mekong in a Buddhist temple.

With a wry smile, she said, Woo hoo! That will be fantastic! Are you going, Sween?

I joked, No way! You know Craig. By the time I get to Bangkok Airport, he’ll probably have embarked on some other adventure, having forgotten I’m coming! He might be in Timbuktu by then.

Like the time when he was five and he nicked off from school in Sydney?

Exactly. That was a scary moment. John Buckley, the fireman, called me and told me he’d found Craig wandering through Paddington alone in the middle of the day. He’d just walked out of the school gate. And he’d crossed countless busy roads by the time John found him. No fear.

But didn’t you say he was rewarded with a ride in the fire truck?

Yes. John brought him home in the fire truck. It was a dream outing for a five-year-old boy and it was the start of a series of walk-outs, I guess.

We chatted and laughed as we walked along bush paths, fending off straggly branches and crossing roads looking for shade. We tried to keep our voices and laughter down to avoid antagonising sleeping neighbours, but trying to suppress our laughter was useless, and we just laughed all the more. Tears rolled down our cheeks as we topped each other’s stories about all the possible disaster scenarios that travelling to Bangkok for Craig’s wedding might involve. We doubled over, hardly able to walk for laughing. Even so, Chris is the kindest friend and despite our jokes at their expense, deep down she wished Craig and his bride the very best for the future.

Trying to focus for a moment, she said, OK, OK, now Sween, seriously, imagine turning up in Thailand, you’re the mother of the groom, right? The newly minted Sunbeam toaster is under your arm, wrapped in silver wedding paper, but he’s not there.

But a mysterious guy approaches me; he hands me a letter from Craig, I continued with her story.

Yes, she said, and he’s sorry he can’t meet you, but he is elsewhere, engaged in an amazing experience learning to be a monk!

It’s possible, I shrugged.

And here’s the thing; what do you do with the toaster? Seriously, could you get a refund from Myer?

The jokes rolled on, and it was hard to focus on the time as we climbed steep hills and down again. Chris knew all about Craig’s chronic lack of direction, unconventional life and the times he forgot to ring his mother, often for months at a time.

Still, when I returned home, I searched the internet for a package deal to Thailand. At least I’ll get a new stamp in my passport, I thought. And I was very curious about the culture and the idea of travelling to mysterious places like the Mekong River, which I associated with the Vietnam War.

Sheree met me after work at the quaint little Mudgeeraba shopping village. I had enjoyed Chris’ shock reaction to Craig’s news so over coffee at a café, I blurted out to my only daughter, Guess what? Your brother’s getting married and we’re going to the wedding!

The abrupt announcement had the desired effect; she almost choked on her coffee. Her blue eyes widened incredulously, and she burst into laughter. Then, noting the look on my face, she grinned. What? Really? Who is he marrying? Are you serious? How do you know? Where?

Email last night. He’s marrying a Thai girl called Maliwan in a traditional Thai ceremony in a village near the Mekong River.

Wow! That’s amazing. I wonder how you say it? Maliwan? Unusual name. Has he mentioned her before?

No. I’ve hardly heard from him since Christmas Day when he was in Bali, remember? He rings occasionally and chats about various things. Remember when he said he wanted to do a course to work with primates?

Oh yeah, and you said it should work out well because he’s already a cheeky monkey or something?

Haha. Yes. Craig was unimpressed. But no, he hasn’t mentioned a serious relationship with anyone. Although I’m not surprised, are you? I mean, when does he ever divulge any details about his life?

Sure, but I didn’t think he’d ever get married. He seems to like freedom too much, Sheree mused.

Yes, at 36, you give up hope of him settling down. The only time he came close was when he had Forreste. Have you heard anything about her recently?

Craig had had a relationship in Australia around a decade before, resulting in a delightful daughter, Forreste, who was about nine or ten.

No, not for a couple of years. After he split up with her mother, Craig moved away and the mother moved on and had more children. Forreste must have been about five the last time we saw her, wasn’t she?

About that. It’s tough when people break up and there are kids involved. So now, a whole new chapter?

Maybe, but Forreste will come back into our lives eventually. For now, we at least have a picture of Craig and his fiancée. She’s a beautiful girl. I’ll forward the email to you tonight.

OK. It’s hard to get your head around this. Most people date for a while and email news or photos, giving the impression they’re an item. And then, there’s Craig’s way: boom! Getting married. Sheree ordered another latte. So, you’ve been to Thailand before, haven’t you, Mum?

No, never even thought of going to Thailand but I’ve been to Langkawi Island, Malaysia and it’s near there. I think Malaysia shares a border with Thailand.

You said ‘we’re’ going? Do you mean that? But what will it cost? I don’t know if I can take leave. Although she was keen to go, Sheree had a few obstacles to overcome before going to a wedding in Thailand. She had virtually no leave available at her job as a medical secretary. She also needed to discuss the trip with her husband, Max, and their two high-school-age children, Matt and Bec, although she knew there would be no objection.

I, on the other hand, was already on leave from my teaching job. The lure of discovering exciting new places is