Opinion
It's difficult to capture the magnitude of the Asian tsunami disaster with words. For that, it takes pictures.
Picture the faces of the hungry, the tired, the sad and the desperate -- dirty yet blanched, fixed in masks of pain or resignation.
Picture the arms, reaching out, straining to grab food and water as hundreds mob the precious aid stations.
Picture overhead satellite photos of huts and homes, green plains and sandy beaches, farms and roads.
Picture the strange order and calm of the "before" shots.
Then picture the "after" shots, the absence of life, the landscapes and cityscapes reduced to carpets of mud and rubble.
Picture the impossible force of the waves: boats thrown miles inland from any place boats ought to be, trains ripped from the tracks and left on top of crushed homes, cars and buses overturned and scattered like so much driftwood on a beach.
Then picture the "fortunate" survivors, left to pick through these alien scenes, searching for lost homes, lost livelihoods and lost loved ones.
Picture all the hurricanes, tornadoes and floods of recent memory, add them up and then start to multiply.
Picture a dozen tiny mushroom clouds.
Picture a genocide of nature's own making, the product not of malice but of the capriciousness of chance.
Then picture it all as only the iceberg-tip of disaster, with famine and diseases to follow that may eclipse the initial suffering.
Picture all that, and slowly the magnitude of the loss comes into focus.
The task now facing the international community, if the tide of suffering is to be turned, is of equal size and weight.
The world is called by humanitarian imperative, but the crisis at hand is so large as to seem nearly insurmountable.
