Lola Alfira remembers the first time she saw a warship at Meulaboh.

“It was large and when it docked, smaller vehicles emerged. People of Meulaboh had never seen anything like it,” the nurse recalls of that day, a Sunday, 10 years ago. She also remembers Singapore Armed Forces Chinooks flying in. They had come to deliver aid to this town shaken by earthquake and ravaged by the subsequent deadly waves.

“Singapore was like our hero – it was the first country to respond in our time of distress,” she adds.

Singapore has left a permanent mark on Meulaboh, both emotional and physical. Plaques bearing the Singapore flag or references to Singapore-related contributions to the rescue effort are found every few hundred metres, including a sign saying “Simpang Temasek” at the corner of a small road.

This port town some 250km or a five-hour drive from Banda Aceh was one of the worst hit by the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami, losing a third or 40,000 of its residents. It was cut off from the world when seven tsunami waves pounded it, ploughing through an arterial coastal road serving the provincial capital of Banda Aceh, shattering its pier and swallowing whole villages.

“Everyone in this town lost someone,” says West Aceh district chief Alaidinsyah whose mother died in the tragedy.

Meulaboh is the main town of this district. A decade later, its population is booming again. Its economy is picking up.

However, bent and fading evacuation signs, rusting fences or poles and potholed streets belie just how much help it needed not long ago.

One of the most prominent legacies of Singapore’s generosity during the rescue and relief efforts is the Cut Nyak Dhien hospital, which was almost totally demolished by the tsunami. Singapore pumped in S$12 million, resulting in 17 rebuilt buildings with 146 beds, a radiology department and two operating theatres when the official handover took place in July 2010.

Little more than four years later, the clean exterior is already a stark contrast to what’s happened inside. Patients sprawl on soiled mattresses that fill the general wards; some sit on the floor together with visitors.

Hospital chief Dr Akbar Siregar says maintenance has been lax and the hospital is now operating at overcapacity, even though patients treated for tsunami-related injuries or trauma have long since left.

Construction of a two-storey ward building began early this year to keep up with the rising number of patients streaming in from surrounding districts, but it is not scheduled to be completed until the middle of 2015.

This hospital is the second best in Aceh, after the one in Banda Aceh. But it is still in dire need of new equipment such as MRI and CT scans, says Dr Akbar.

“For anything that requires further checks, we have to send patients on a five-hour drive to Banda Aceh,” he says.

At the Muhammadiyah orphanages and boarding school – rebuilt in different parts by Singapore’s Mercy Relief, Red Cross, Commerzbank AG and Lien Foundation – caretaker Nurazwi proudly shows how beds and wardrobes donated in 2005 remains in good shape.

Mercy Relief estimates that the boys and girls’ orphanages had two wings refurbished and two rebuilt at a cost of S$480,000, with a capacity for 60 orphans aged between 13 and 18 years old. Another S$300,000 went into furnishings, landscaping, recreational facilities, books, stationery and uniforms.

Taking out a pile of Singapore textbooks and pots and pans, Nurazwi beams as she holds up what she says are some of the durable remains of the help they got.

But she says living conditions have become a squeeze as more girls seek admission.

A similar story has played out at the Babussalam Orphanages and boarding schools rebuilt by Mercy Relief and opened in 2008.

School principal Walissalikin Has digs out old cards he has saved, including one from Mercy Relief who helped rebuild his school and dormitories. He says more funds are needed other than the ones they raised over the years for smaller renovations.

For instance, its mosque tower, which once saw people clambering up to flee the waves, is now considered too dangerous and has been locked.

Indeed, there are ample signs that Meulaboh has better facilities than its surrounding districts thanks to tsunami relief efforts. But a growing population, now at 110,000 or almost at the same level just before the tsunami hit in 2004, has put a strain on present infrastructure which has, in turn, not been well maintained.

With the non-governmental organisations (NGOs) gone, district chief Alaidinsyah laments that his people have become reliant on external help, even though Meulaboh has always been a sleepy port.

“People have gotten too used to the NGOs’ help,” says the businessman, adding: “We need to change this.”

While plenty has changed, more needs to be done. Sanitation and access to clean water are still a problem: There is no drinkable water and at least 10 per cent of residents have no sanitation facilities.

But there are bright spots. Meulaboh-based University Teuku Umar has been promoted to a state-standard varsity, attracting students from as far as Medan. A recreational park in the town centre is also being planned.

Hardy infrastructure built after the tsunami – such as the S$7-million Meulaboh port and pier built from donations that poured into the Singapore-based Tidal Waves Asia fund – has spurred economic activity, with coal exports flowing through it to China and India. That means more work for port workers, says chief of maritime operations in Aceh Barat, Dahlan BA.

Once port operations shut at sundown, the pier turns into a hangout for courting couples and youths. Anglers set up camp for night-fishing.

Hardy infrastructure built after the tsunami - such as the S$7-million Meulaboh port and pier built from donations that poured into the Singapore-based Tidal Waves Asia fund - has spurred economic activity, with coal exports flowing through it to China and India. That meant more work has opened up for port workers, says chief of maritime operations in Aceh Barat, Mr Dahlan BA.

Mobile vendors roll in, selling everything from local favourites like mie aceh and martabak to grilled corn and roasted peanuts and drinks.

One street in town also livens up after evening prayers, as residents gather at coffee shops and retailers reopen till 10pm.

Those who received post-tsunami aid, like Dr Akbar, are keen to collaborate with Singapore again, especially to train manpower and explore ideas to improve facilities.

Mercy Relief’s corporate affairs manager Ann Moey tells The Straits Times that it is planning to return to disaster-prone communities in West Aceh. It wants to improve access to clean water and increase preparedness for natural disasters.

“The project also seeks to provide emergency equipment to local response agencies to increase their ability to provide immediate assistance in the wake of a disaster,” she says, adding that the project remained in the planning stages pending confirmation of funding.

Syed Husin, a grandfather of four, says: “Since aid workers have gone, some Indonesians might be complacent about what happened before.”

For visitors, various mass graves around the town are reminders of the tragedy of 10 years ago. “For us residents of Meulaboh, we will never forget the tsunami, and when the next one hits, we will be prepared, hopefully,” says the 86-year-old who lost nine family members.

The reality of a massive earthquake and a tsunami decimating Indonesia, hailand and Sri Lanka and displacing hundreds of thousands did not quite hit Manpower Minister Tan Chuan-Jin when he first heard the news on Dec 26, 2004.

Tan, then a 35-year-old army colonel, was with his daughter during her swimming lesson in the morning when the news first broke.

“I was not familiar with the term tsunami... people were talking about big waves but it was not until later in the evening when I saw the images of the destruction in the news that I realised things were serious and we had to do something,” says Tan, who retired from the Singapore Armed Forces as a Brigadier-General in 2011 to enter politics.

The next day, he got the call. “We were told to get ready to move anytime.”

He was appointed the commander of the Humanitarian Assistance Support Group in Meluaboh, one of the worst hit Indonesian coastal towns.

Leading a team of 20 men, he flew down to Medan on Dec 31 to lay the groundwork for Singapore’s largest humanitarian and disaster relief operation. Codenamed Operation Flying Eagle, it was the biggest-ever deployment of men, women and machines to Indonesia and Thailand

But he did not know what to expect, as he had never led an operation in which troops had to deliver aid and help disaster victims.

Prior to the Boxing Day tsunami, Tan and most of his men were involved only in mock scenarios in which they had to prepare and deliver aid.

But those drills kicked in, as everyone sprung into action.

“We had no time to think of what-ifs or be weighed down by fears or uncertainties. It would’ve paralysed our planning.

“None of us felt that we were biting off more than we could chew... There was a sense that we have done it before. It’s just applying our capabilities that we have honed over the years to a different context and problem,” says the 25-year army veteran reflecting on his experience 10 years after the killer waves hit coastal Asia.

To Tan, this mission was not merely about Singapore lending a helping hand.

“I was quite particular that it wasn’t just about disbursing assistance and help but really how we do it.

“I didn’t want us to look, feel and act as if we were saviours. We were there to work as partners and equals. We needed them to help us help them.”

The mission to do good was also fraught with risks, especially with Free Aceh Movement insurgents, who sought independence from Indonesia, still on the loose, leaving Meulaboh in the throes of civil unrest. A peace deal forged the next year ended the 30-year separatist conflict.

There was also the worry of quake aftershocks or a second tsunami.

The additional burden on Tan was that he was also putting the country’s citizen soldiers, national servicemen, in harm’s way to sort out someone else’s problem.

“Mission success is determined not just by how much aid was delivered or how many people but also if I got all my men back to Singapore safe and sound.”

Operation Flying Eagle involved some 1,500 personnel, three supply ships, 12 helicopters and eight transport aircraft.

This was dwarfed by the Americans who sent 16,000 military personnel, 26 large ships, 58 helicopters and 43 fixed-wing aircraft.

But Singapore still punched above its weight, becoming the primary foreign military contingent present in Meulaboh. Singaporean troops worked tirelessly over three weeks to clear debris, remove bodies and deliver aid.

What made the difference was perhaps the SAF personnel’s understanding of local and cultural sensitivities, ensuring that they did not make any gaffes and create tensions among the locals.

It even came down to the nitty-gritty like establishing eye contact with people or handing out aid properly.

“When you wear sunglasses, you come across as insensitive and arrogant. We were also mindful not to throw food or water at the locals. These may be small things but they matter, as people want to be treated with dignity.”

It also helped that Singapore’s servicemen were conversant in the Indonesian language and culture, allowing them to easily gain the trust of their military counterparts and winning the hearts and minds of the locals.

The good contacts and communications also led to the better matching of needs of the locals, ensuring that “we only delivered what was needed - not any more or less”, says Tan.

“We can’t be everywhere but we didn’t have to be. There was no big song and dance. Our presence, though small, was good enough to give the locals a psychological boost.”

After seeing the swathe of destruction and coming face to face with death in the post-apocalyptic town, he could only describe his stint in Meulaboh as “surreal”.

“We were just so focussed on the mission and ensuring that we try to get everything right. When dealing with a crisis, you just got to be steady and not be swept by emotions or else you can’t command and lead properly.”

The emotional outpouring happened only weeks later when he was back in Singapore and saw a video chronicling the SAF’s work in the disaster zone.

“It was cathartic to let your emotions run... [thinking of] those who died and those who lost proof of their lives and existence on earth... their passports, their qualifications and their loved ones.”

Ten years on, Tan set foot again in Aceh last month to see how the city has picked itself up from that disaster.

Standing on a landing point, now a scenic embankment, where Singapore troops began their mission, he recalls the “eerie tranquility” of the battered Meulaboh coastline.

“Everything was flattened. There was no sign of life. Just waves crashing on the shore... It was unreal.”

When asked what was one defining emotion or memory of his stint, he hesitates for a while before saying “pride”.

“I’m proud of who we are as Singaporeans, not just being capable enough to do what was right but also how to treat people right. These are lessons that stay

As humanitarian relief forms the core of World Vision’s work, the global organisation was among the many non-governmental organisations (NGOs) to launch fund-raising campaigns immediately in the wake of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami.

World Vision was able to launch immediate assistance within 24 hours through its Global Rapid Response team, as it conducts year-round disaster preparedness training and has three major warehouses in strategic locations stocked for urgent and immediate relief response.

The funds collected globally added up to US$346 million, which went into the organisation’s largest relief effort programme extending beyond initial emergency relief to community rehabilitation, livelihood recovery and infrastructure rehabilitation that stretched beyond a period of three years.

“All donations are given towards specific projects or countries and every cent is channelled accordingly,” explains Liew Tong Ngan, chief executive officer of World Vision Malaysia.

World Vision is well-known for its high level of transparency and accountability for its relief work dating back to the mid-1950s after the Korean War, when it provided shelter for thousands of orphans.

Process and finance audits are conducted regularly with established external organisations like Ernst & Young and Price Waterhouse (now PricewaterhouseCoopers), with peer audits also being held. Distribution of donations adheres to UN regulations and standards, Liew adds.

“We were stretched to the limits of our capacity during the Indian Ocean tsunami. One of the things we piloted was to introduce child-friendly spaces to safeguard the young who are made vulnerable by the loss of their guardians, families and homes.

“We cooperate very closely with the government and local communities, and we never go through back channels even if it hastens the process,” says Liew.

Following the tsunami, Liew says, disaster mitigation efforts were increased,withmoretrainingconducted among villages, as mitigation is far more cost effective than relief work.

“Training of staff and volunteers is crucial to any operation as a disaster is no place for ‘relief tourists’. While it is always encouraging to have volunteers, if they are not trained to help effectively, they take up precious resources that should go to those in need.”

Another organisation to step up to the plate was the Taiwan Buddhist Tzu Chi Foundation, known as the largest NGO in the “Chinese world”, with a record of aid relief efforts in over 80 countries.

In their post-tsunami efforts, Tzu Chi volunteers collected donations in 30 countries from Jan 1 to March 31, 2005, raising US$81.9 million in the process.

Volunteers from Taiwan, Malaysia, Singapore, Canada, the United States, Hong Kong and Australia – all led by Danny Lee Mun Keat for 17 months after the disaster – concentrated on Hambantota, the hardest hit area in southern Sri Lanka.

“To get to the area, we had to travel through the mountains for eight hours as the coastal road for the usual six-hour journey was destroyed,” says the 53-year-old Lee, who spent two Chinese New Years on the ground there for what he initially thought would be a two-week assignment.

Immediate relief for Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Thailand and Malaysia came in the form of food and necessities such as blankets, sugar, cooking oil, milk powder and basic supplies, with water filtering systems making their way to affected areas in Indonesia.

In the first two months, Lee coordinated the challenge of distributing over 2,000 tonnes of rice from Pakistan to the affected populace in Sri Lanka, with each 50kg pack painstakingly divided into 10kg rations for easier transportation by weak and malnourished tsunami victims.

Medical teams were also sent to Sri Lanka, Indonesia and Malaysia.

Apart from monetary contributions, other donations include thousands of pairs of sports shoes from a factory in Malacca, while temporary tents sent to Sri Lanka and Indonesia were donated by a Taiwanese businessman.

Unfortunately, not all donations were usable.

“A lot of Western countries sent thick clothes and blankets that were unsuitable for the hot and humid weather in Sri Lanka. A Singaporean donor sent soya bean packet drinks, but Sri Lankans do not favour nor drink that flavour,” says Lee.

Instead, he preferred to use monetary donations to buy food supplies from local vendors and get the economy in motion again.

In the few years that followed, the volunteers rebuilt the Da Ai (Great Love) village with the help of local contractors, along with the major infrastructure the area required, such as roads, electricity poles, infrastructure and piping.

MIn Sri Lanka, a total of 649 houses were completed in 2006 along with a school and community centre. In Indonesia, 2,566 houses were constructed for three villages, with nine schools, and a mosque, clinic, market and community centre.

Whenever he visits the village, Lee is heartened to see the efforts of some to beautify their homes. He recalls how Tzu Chi first built temporary housing in the form of 300 huts, with the assistance of the Sri Lankan army, using the 101ha of land allotted by the local government,

“We flattened the area and made a smooth and level sand base for each hut, so the victims could rest comfortably. We also tried many ways to help them live inside without feeling too hot, like using netting for the top.

“Even though the first form of housing was only temporary, I remember Dharma Master Cheng Yen saying that we must let (the tsunami survivors) live in good conditions throughout,” he explains with a smile.

Medical services, food and home care visits were provided for the first year, but currently there is only a inimal number of personnel there to assist in about 50 home visit cases in Hambantota.

“ People there have rebuilt normal lives. I’m happy to say some have even gone overseas to better their fortunes,” Lee adds.

Along a remote beach about an hour’s drive from Meulaboh’s city centre, a battered fishing boat sits anchored.

On one side, its name “Harapan” – meaning “Hope” in Bahasa Indonesia – indicates the message its donors may have had: to lend hope to a coastal community by providing bigger, better boats capable of bringing in more fish.

But on the other side, the reality is stark: A large chunk of the hull appears to be missing, worn or battered through. Broken wooden planks are exposed under peeling paint.

The receivers of Harapan appear to have abandoned their gift, one that they had not necessarily sought or were obliged to use.

The Harapan’s receivers appear to have abandoned their gift, one that they had not necessarily sought nor were obliged to use.

Aid agencies had advised the fishermen to form co-operatives, working in groups to run the boats and bring in larger hauls to feed their community and fuel the economy after the disaster.

But as one of the Harapan’s former supervisors shared, the Acehnese fishermen were not used to this sort of set-up, and after trying it for a year, the group splintered and went back to their ways of getting their catches mostly as individuals on smaller boats.

The Harapan’s fate is an example of how the initial outpouring of aid in tsunami-wrecked Aceh appeared in some areas to be incongruous with local needs and culture, as well as management capabilities

A total of US$14 billion was donated by governments and international organisations in the aftermath of the tsunami.

“Our study of over 67 tsunami-affected villages in Aceh found that aid projects that focused on re-establishing aspects of life... that existed before the tsunami were more successful and sustainable than projects that sought to introduce new concepts and ways of life, such as the boats for collective fishing,” says Dr Patrick Daly, principal investigator at the Earth Observatory of Singapore.

“People are very conservative and generally gravitate back towards their pre-disaster life.”

Dr Daly is co-director, along with International Centre for Aceh and Indian Ocean Studies’ director Dr Saiful Mahdi, of an ongoing project studying the sustainability of post-tsunami aid in Aceh by international agencies.

“It is much easier conceptually to provide emergency supplies, medical services and temporary shelter than it is to re-design a brand new society that is better than the pre-disaster state,” he adds.

Citing the example of NGOs giving Acehnese women sewing machines in a bid to introduce a new source of income for them, he says: “We haven’t seen a single home that still keeps and uses its machine.”

Benjamin William, secretary-general of Singapore Red Cross (SRC), the agency behind Harapan, says most of his organisation’s projects have been assessed as successful, but acknowledges that “it is not uncommon for aid projects without support mechanisms to face sustainability issues in the long run”.

“One common reason is that the aid agencies decide the type and scope of aid by what they perceive is needed and useful by the local community instead of what is really needed,” he says.

Mr William adds that his organisation tries to reduce such risks through careful planning, execution and continued monitoring of projects.

These include houses and a community centre in Sri Lanka, as well as the installation of water tanks and the building of a school in Maldives – two other places that were severely hit by the tsunami.

The mismatches of aid and local needs, however, have fortunately made up the minority of post-tsunami projects that Dr Daly and his team have studied.

“The overall reconstruction of Aceh has been a staggering effort, and the people of Aceh benefited greatly from the outpouring of international support and aid, including vital aid from the government and private citizens in Singapore,” he says.

Some S$89 million was given through SRC alone – the record amount raised for a single disaster. Much of it went to developments that have been key in Aceh’s recovery effort such as the modernisation and expansion of the Cut Nyak Dhien Hospital, and the rebuilding of the Meulaboh port and pier, reopening a crucial entry point to the coastal city.

But all the aid has also made locals complacent and over-reliant on NGOS, some say.

Dadek Hermansyah, who runs the government planning agency for the Aceh Barat region and has helped guide the rebuilding of Meulaboh, says people welcome help. But he is now determined to reduce reliance on international aid.

“We are a poor country, we must work for ourselves.”

Hasanuddin Abdul Raniadami, who was elected as head of Kampong Tengoh two years after the tsunami struck and oversaw his village’s recovery, agrees.

In the immediate recovery period, he recalls how NGOs would offer meagre salaries to villagers to do mundane chores, just to help them get back on their feet.

“People used to do such chores out of friendship and kindness for one another, but after they were paid by these organisations, they now always look for monetary incentives,” says Hasanuddin.

Dadek says he has observed the same, and that people today reminisce about a “lost culture”.

“Now people ask, ‘Where is the money?’” he laments