Despite the Obstacles, Aid Pours In

Aid to millions of Asian tsunami survivors poured into the region in fits and starts Tuesday, hampered by such obstacles as torrential rains in Sri Lanka and a pair of water buffalo on the airport runway here.

Cargo jet traffic into Banda Aceh was grounded for 15 hours after a B-737 jet struck the animals, blocking the only runway in this tsunami-devastated city’s Blang Bintang Airport.

At least eight flights with rice, water and supplies were canceled. About 30 injured victims lay on stretchers awaiting airlift to bigger hospitals in faraway cities, and dozens of other survivors trying to leave were forced to camp out at the terminal.

While international teams cleared the dead cows and damaged aircraft from the runway, the U.S. Navy stepped up helicopter sorties, ferrying supplies to devastated coastal villages. Multinational crews ferried as many patients to hospitals as could fit on helicopters, and the sweeping aid operation across the region continued.

“We are making extraordinary progress in reaching the majority of the people affected in the majority of the areas,” said U.N. Emergency Relief Coordinator Jan Egeland in New York. “We are also experiencing extraordinary obstacles in many, many areas.”

To help overcome problems, the Pentagon announced Tuesday it planned to double the number of helicopters deployed in the disaster-stricken region, where 45 U.S. choppers already are ferrying supplies and relief workers.

Helicopters have proved to be the military’s most effective means for transporting food, water and medical supplies to an area spanning thousands of nautical miles, said Adm. Thomas Fargo of the U.S. Pacific Command.

By most accounts, the relief effort here has made major strides. Already, more than 50 tons of food have been distributed to Indonesians, government and agency leaders say, and there’s much more coordination than the first few days after the Dec. 26 earthquake and tsunami.

But as the cow incident illustrated, there are plenty of problems that have complicated the task of helping tens of thousands of victims in this northern part of the country that was hardest hit. In Banda Aceh alone, about 30,000 people perished, or one out of 10 residents.

The sheer enormity of the disaster, in lives lost and destruction of infrastructure, has made aid delivery difficult. Egeland on Tuesday cited such hindrances as the Sri Lankan rains and the plane-buffalo collision.

The relief operations in Banda Aceh, capital of Aceh province on the island of Sumatra, are run out of a small and physically constrained air force base on the other side of Blang Bintang’s runway. With military, medical and other workers from about a dozen countries and numerous organizations on the base, language and cultural differences provide daily challenges.

Add to that the sweltering heat and the unknown elements, and the magnitude of the task looks truly daunting.

“This is an unusual condition,” said Alwi Shihab, Indonesia’s social welfare minister, who is in charge of the relief effort, with coordination help from the United Nations.

“In such a situation, you cannot expect perfection.... Look at what happened today,” he added, referring to the water buffalo incident.

The accident on the runway about 1:15 a.m. collapsed the left landing gear of the privately owned jet. The airport was shut down until equipment from Medan, another Sumatran city, and Singapore were flown in that allowed a Mexican rescue-and-relief team to hoist the aircraft and roll it out of the way.

Michael Elmquist, chief of U.N. humanitarian affairs in Indonesia, didn’t regard the runway closure as a major impediment. He said that in recent days, a steady flow of aid had moved to Banda Aceh and other communities along the coast of Sumatra, giving residents a cushion before the next round of distribution. “I don’t think it will affect the population,” he said.

Elmquist said 400 tons of food was due to be distributed over the next eight weeks, or eight times the amount handed out so far. That’s enough to feed 500,000 people for eight weeks, he said.

Such figures depend on coordination, and in the first week, it wasn’t pretty. People seemed to be focused only on their own task, many leaders say, and there were some close calls.

On Friday, for example, U.S. and Indonesian choppers nearly crashed into each other because they weren’t using the same radio frequency. Afterward, the two pilots exchanged badges, and the Indonesian pilot switched to the American frequency, the Indonesian pilot involved in the incident said.

Many relief workers still hand-gesture to communicate, but as time has passed, specialists have been called in to bridge the gap, including two Australian military offices familiar with the Indonesian language and Muslim customs.

One of them, Cpl. Peter Clark, teaches his fellow soldiers how to say “hello” and “how are you?” as well as basic Islamic customs, such as using the right hand when making contact with a Muslim. Almost all of Banda Aceh’s residents are Muslim.

Still, Clark’s says, he’s had his moments. On Tuesday, he went into Banda Aceh with other soldiers to open a water purification center for residents. His call to form two lines didn’t sink in. The residents rushed into the center for the drinking water, which has been in short supply.

“It’s a steppingstone, but we’re stepping over it,” Clark said of the language barrier.

The rescue center here has the feel of a Boy Scout jamboree, with a bevy of tents in various colors and sizes representing participating nations and relief organizations. Flags of nations fly at half-staff next to the campsites.

The health workers of Posko Mujahedin, a radical Muslim group, live in two worn tents pitched next to those of other religious groups. A hand-scrawled sign reads, “Protector of Islamic law.” Nearby, Buddhist monks in traditional garb and sandals walk around, and Indonesian soldiers in fatigues carry rifles and take long drags on cigarettes.

Far on the other end of the base is a large white canopy where U.S. soldiers do their work. The Americans’ main job in Banda Aceh’s base has been unloading boxes of instant noodles, water and biscuits from the helicopters that come in every 45 minutes or so from the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln in the Indian Ocean.

Unlike most of the relief teams, the Americans do not live at the airport -- they fly in each morning at 7 from the Lincoln and return to the ship at 5 p.m. A different group of Navy personnel work here each day.

The Navy stepped up the number of helicopter sorties Tuesday to make up for the loss of cargo delivery, and by day’s end had moved about 70,000 pounds of food. In between, sailors rested inside the canopy, eating Pop Tarts and beef jerky, and waited for the day to end.

When choppers landed Tuesday, Indonesian soldiers and some from the military academy dashed onto the airfield, joining the Navy’s bucket brigade, passing boxes from the aircraft to the tarmac. That’s been happening for a few days now, something that U.S. military leaders viewed as a sign of cooperation.

“They just jump in and help us,” said David Benavidez, a Navy aviation mechanic chief who is from the San Fernando Valley. “They’re not part of our game plan, but we’re very happy when they do it.”

On the Indonesian side, under a hangar, senior officers and their entourage were going in and out of meetings, preparing for Secretary of State Colin L. Powell’s visit to the region.

Indonesian Maj. Gen. Endang Suwarya, a big man with a thundering voice, talked about separatist rebels in the area, who he said were lurking just a few miles from the airport. “We can manage, no problem,” he said about containing the rebels, who have been fighting the government since the late 1970s.

Throughout the afternoon, television crews and photographers took their turn scurrying to the tarmac to capture patients being carried out of helicopters. Under the flickering sounds of the helicopter, multinational crews would escort the patients, in groups of six or seven, to tents where doctors were waiting.

A patient named Fahruru, who had malaria, said he had walked from the hills for a week seeking help, carrying his young son, whose leg was broken. As Fahruru lay on a cot in the Chinese medical tent grimacing in pain, Dr. Wang Qian of Beijing called out repeatedly for a translator. A few minutes later, one finally came inside.

Meanwhile, at the Singaporean camp, the prime minister of Singapore made his way through a pack of media and somberly listened to stories of army and medical personnel.

Times staff writers Maggie Farley at the United Nations and Mark Mazzetti and Edwin Chen in Washington contributed to this report.