A t first glance the oddity of a lone palm tree on the shoreline, or a piece of graffiti with the words "hantu laut", meaning ghosts of the sea β also the words spray-painted on the military trucks that collected the dead bodies β could easily be missed by a new visitor to Banda Aceh , the Indonesian city ravaged by the Boxing Day tsunami. In the centre of town the reconstruction process has been so transformative it is hard to believe the deadliest tsunami in history ripped through it nine years ago, killing , people across Aceh province and leaving more than , displaced.
But in the tsunami ground zero, where each aid recipient house in the village is a beige replica of the next, the markers are more prevalent.
In one street a huge two-and-a-half tonne barge swept in by the wave still rests atop the skeleton of two houses. It now serves as a piece of tsunami memorabilia, and an awe-inspiring reminder of the wrath of nature. By the coast, the tsunami towers stand like sentinels guarding against the fury of the ocean.
The thick concrete pillars are about 16 metres 52ft high, built about a mile from the shore, a place for people to run to in the event of another tsunami, standing four storeys above the houses around.
The top floors are open air and can be used for evacuation, there is also a helipad on each. The safety towers are made of reinforced concrete and can hold around people each. They also offer a clear topographical view of what is pre- and post-disaster. Sandwiched between lush rainforest mountains and the sea, neat lines of blue squares mark the roofs of the new villages while the centre of town is a kaleidoscoe of colours and shapes, rusty roofs, and the turrets of the impressive central mosque.
