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Source: ONE News -
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It was the jewel in Samoa's crown.
Tourists loved Lalomanu beach for its chalk-white sand and the
few-metre stroll from beachfront villas into the clear, fish-filled
waters.
But beach and ocean aside, nothing remains of the Pacific nation's
most famous holiday destination.
The village, once home to eight family-run fale operations, dozens
of houses and several shops, is now a barren wasteland, stripped
bare by a wall of water that struck early on September 29.
Positioned on the south-eastern tip of Samoa's mainland, Lalomanu
bore the full force of the Pacific tsunami, registering the biggest
and fastest wave and a death toll to match.
Most of Samoa's 143 dead died here, unable to make it up the steep
bank behind the flat foreshore before the first wave struck.
The disaster transformed the village into a rubbish tip.
In the days following, scores of locals could be seen scavenging
through the rubble, looking for loved ones and salvageable
possessions.
Bands of Red Cross, Unicef and Oxfam volunteers handed out
emergency supplies, government workers orchestrated the beginnings
of the clean-up and international media filled the shoreline to see
first hand the scale of the tragedy.
But two months on Lalomanu is even more shocking, mostly because
there is nothing.
The rubble is largely cleared, leaving an open expanse where homes
once stood but families no longer feel safe living.
When we drive through we see nothing but a few stray dogs and a man
napping under a tsunami-damaged car.
Locals have all relocated to the high plateau above to be nearer
their plantations, now their livelihood, and away from danger, bad
memories and the rumoured "ghostly cries" of those who have
died.
Most plan to rebuild here with a $42,113 government subsidy offered
to each family.
The famous beachfront, too, is barren.
The shoreline and the water that laps it look postcard perfect
but the space once occupied by dozens of rustic beach shacks is
eerily empty.
No tourist operations have begun rebuilding, though the biggest
resorts, Litia Sini and Taufua Beach Fales, have tentative plans
under way.
They're understandably nervous however.
The Taufua family alone lost 14 relatives in the disaster and is
now considering relocating their accommodation to higher ground,
with fales for day use only on the beach.
But, says Ben Taufua, it will take time, money and much planning
before they are ready.
In the meantime this place, usually alive with the hub-bub of
tourists and locals, is deadly quiet.
The only sign of tourism recovery to be seen in this devastated
corner of Upolu comes from the neighbouring village of
Saleapaga.
Here Kueva Legalo and two builders hammer together wood to make
three basic fales, a modest new beginning for once-popular Faofao
Beach Fales.
Legalo says proudly that his will be the first to reopen, with
these few shacks funding more to come.
"We had no choice, it was our only income," he said through an
interpreter.
"The plan is to build and the people will come from next month and
stay."
His optimism is heartening and based on the warming assumption that
foreigners want to support Samoa in its recovery.
But looking around at the barren land that surrounds his
construction site, it's hard to imagine tourists checking in a
matter of weeks.
With no other infrastructure in sight, and reminders of That Day in
every direction, this once-stunningly picturesque spot will take
more time to recover.
