April 2020, ScientificAmerican.com 65and also helped related families in times of need or during the
organization of large ceremonies. With their fragmentation, the
strong social support system that the community had enjoyed
collapsed, leaving its members vulnerable at a critical juncture.
For some the consequences were even more devastating. The
authorities declared some islands uninhabitable and constructed
houses for their former residents on other islands. The cleavage
from their ancestral lands, with which they had deep spiritual
and emotional bonds, caused these people tremendous suffer-
ing. “We miss our villages, but they will also be missing us,” Paul
Joora grieved. The homeland, inhabited by ancestral spirits, was
a living being, and the severing of ties with it was more painful
than the loss of a family member.
In addition, over the years prolonged stress, sedentary life-
styles and a taste for processed foods had taken a toll. Previously
unknown ailments such as hypertension appeared. The islands
lack modern medical facilities, and most of the traditional heal-
ers—with their extensive knowledge of plant-based medicines—
had perished during the tsunami. The Nicobarese began to die
of heart attacks, diabetes, injuries, respiratory diseases, pneu-
monia, malaria and other diseases. Alcoholism became a scourge
as well.
After allocating the last tsunami shelters in 2011, the admin-
istration abruptly stopped providing aid. As the cash ran out,
addicts could no longer buy IMFL and began to consume jun-
glee, an illicit and toxic mix of ethyl alcohol, urea, battery acid
and other chemicals that mainland laborers had introduced to
the Nicobarese during the reconstruction phase. “ Junglee will
kill more Nicobarese than the tsunami had,” predicted Ayesha
Majid, who chairs the Nancowry tribal council.
Many of the indigenes believe that their perpetual sadness is
the root cause of disease and death among them. “We may seem
alive, but deep inside we all are dead people,” despaired Chupon,
an elder of Nancowry. Tinfus, the spirit healer who had partici-
pated in Chacho’s joyous funeral ceremony, echoed the sentiment.
“The Nicobar is dying,” he said to Saini in 2014. In a soft, shaky
voice, Tinfus explained how the kareau, or ancestral spirits, had
always protected the Nicobarese from evil spirits. But of late, his
people had lost faith in their traditional wisdom and trod a path
of self-destruction. He prophesied that tsunami aid would end
up ruining generations of Nicobarese. His speech was long and
punctuated by thoughtful pauses; suddenly, in the middle of a
sentence, he broke down in tears. In September 2018 Tinfus, one
of the last minluanas, passed away at the age of 80. His death
marked the end of an era in the Nicobar Islands.
S
iNce the tsuNami the Nicobarese community has lost
its social cohesion, spiritual traditions, rules of sus-
tainable resource use, and other immaterial attri-
butes that once ensured its resilience. Their mate-
rial consumption (as measured by weight) has
increased sixfold, and their consumption of fossil fuels has
increased 20-fold. In the absence of continued aid or well-pay-
ing jobs, they can only tread a path of hopelessness about meet-
ing their expanded wants with their limited means. With the
compensation money exhausted and few livelihood options in
the Nicobars, many of the islanders are migrating to Port Blair,
the capital, to seek work. There they live precariously, facing
exploitation and racism from mainstream Indians. Christopher,secretary of Teressa’s tribal council, told Saini in 2018 that the
mainlanders abused them verbally and physically. “It hurts,” he
said. “But what can we do?”
We believe that the fallout of misguided assistance in the
Nicobars could have been averted. This close-knit community
with a rich traditional knowledge base needed no outside experts
to determine how to deal with its post-tsunami predicament. In
the words of Rasheed Yusoof, spokesperson for Nancowry’s tribal
council, the Nicobarese needed only “listening ears” to get what
little they needed from outsiders. With NGOs and government
officials convinced that they knew best, however, the initial deter-
mination of the Nicobarese to rebuild their futures dissipated in
a stream of inappropriate aid, ultimately leaving them a seden-
tary, depressed and disoriented people.
In 2015 a U.N. conference formalized guidelines for prevent-
ing, mitigating and preparing for disasters while also resolving
to “Build Back Better” (BBB)—that is, to leave the victims better
off than before the di sast er. Yet case studies from places as diverse
as Haiti, Nepal and the Philippines show that practitioners of the
BBB approach have repeatedly failed to account for the specific
needs and preferences of those they seek to help. “The promise
to not re-create or exacerbate predisaster vulnerabilities has gen-
erally been un ful filled,” concluded researchers Glenn Fernandez
and Iftekhar Ahmed in a 2019 review of literature on BBB. Seen
against this backdrop, the lessons from the fallout of aid in the
Nicobars become even more relevant.
Rather than adopting a one-size-fits-all attitude to disaster
relief and rehabilitation, recovery efforts should rely on context-
sensitive measures that recognize cultural diversity, learn from
traditional knowledge, ensure the active participation of affected
peoples, build resilience and reduce vulnerabilities. Instead of try-
ing to erase differences, those who administer aid need to protect
and celebrate cultural diversity where it still survives and to fos-
ter the principles that guide human and planetary well-being.
Fifteen years after the tsunami, many of the Nicobarese re -
gret having trusted the promises of their rescuers. Some are now
going home. “We have no future here,” declared Portifer, who
lived in Trinket but now resides on adjacent Kamorta Island, in
December 2019. “Many of us are planning to go back.” Trinket
was only 36 square kilometers to begin with and was reduced to
29 by the earthquake and tsunami. To an outsider, life on the
fragmented island may seem precarious, with man-eating croc-
odiles roaming the coast, but seven Nicobarese families have
already returned, choosing the perils of the ocean over those of
modern civilization.MORE TO EXPLORE
The Nicobar Islands: Cultural Choices in the Aftermath of the Tsunami. Simron Jit
Singh. Czernin Verlag, 2006.
Disciplining the Other: The Politics of Post-tsunami Humanitarian Government in
Southern Nicobar. Ajay Saini in Contributions to Indian Sociology, Vol. 52, No. 3, pages 308–
335; October 2018.
The Sustainability of Humanitarian Aid: The Nicobar Islands as a Case of “Complex
Disaster.” Simron Jit Singh et al. in The Asian Tsunami and Post-Disaster Aid. Edited by
Sunita Reddy. Springer, Singapore, 2018.
FROM OUR ARCHIVES
The Andaman Islanders. Sita Venkateswar; May 1999.
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