r. Siddharth Shah spent his winter break in Ahmedabad, India, relaxing and receiving acupuncture treatment for a sports-related knee injury. "I was learning music, singing, spending some time with family, and following up on some work I'd done there earlier," he says. But on December 26, 2004, his peaceful sojourn ended abruptly when the devastating tsunami ravaged parts of India and other South Asian countries. Shah, a medical doctor who specializes in emotionally-based treatments to enhance mental, social and physical well-being, didn't waste any time once he learned of the tragedy. He went to work without thinking twice, knowing that his expertise would be useful to survivors and relief workers alike.

Though his practice is based in New York City, Shah increasingly spends more time in India, consulting with organizations and doing volunteer work. One of his connections was with Indicorps, an organization that places Indian American youth in year-long service opportunities. "I called them, went to their office and connected my computer to their Internet. I was instantly in touch with people in Chennai who were going to be responding [to the events of the tsunami]," he recalls. For the next few days, he was busy answering questions and assisting field workers. On New Year's Eve, Shah flew to Chennai to roll up his sleeves for some hands-on work.

The good doctor
But Shah wasn't just another doctor assessing injuries and aiding in infrastructural relief. Instead, his work seems a bit more unorthodox—but wholly necessary. "I was helping to keep relief workers as healthy as possible, and I was helping survivors get on with their lives in an impossible time," he explains. One organization he assisted was the Association for India's Development, a nonprofit organization that works to promote sustainable development in India. "The AID office was just full of activity," he says. "There were really stressed out people, who were inevitably going to burn out. I proposed that I could have a small workshop on how to respond to other people's trauma and how to help people help themselves." AID workers recognized the importance of Shah's suggestion and cleared a three-hour block of time for his workshop, which covered stress relief, hands-on exercises and more.

One AID worker immediately responded to Shah's techniques. "She was telling me about how, as we were talking about self-care techniques for volunteer workers, she was nodding in agreement. She explained that she was exhausted by three o'clock each afternoon, and she realized it was because she couldn't find time for her morning yoga. In the past, when she did yoga, she could work effortlessly until five or six o'clock," he says. "That was not only the effect of the absence of yoga, but also the atmosphere of trauma, death and grief that was infecting her system." Shah helped her and others realize that self-care was vital to their performance as relief workers.

In another session, Shah demonstrated how people in the field could help one another. "We exchanged shoulder massages. I was a little hesitant, because I wasn't sure whether it would fly in the field. But one worker, Ragu, was really engaged. He loved the idea. He suggested that we create a buddy system in which one person in the field just looks after another person in the field. For example, if your buddy is helping people remove debris from people's homes, you approach him at intervals and suggest that he needs to take a break," he says. "When you're surrounded by so much need, it makes you feel guilty to have your own basic needs. The buddy system helps alleviate the guilt. This was one of the best suggestions that came out of my workshops, and we put it into a written manual."

Relief workers weren't the only ones who benefited from Shah's techniques. He also went to Nagapattinam, a coastal town that was badly hit by the tsunami, to work with the Hope Foundation. "We drove to the coast and walked into an area where a lot of affected people were congregating. There was a long line of men waiting outside of a temple that had been converted into a government center that documented people's losses," he explains.

Shah and two other volunteers loitered around the area, observing groups of people talking and comforting one another. They finally approached three men in a group and asked if they could talk with them about how the tsunami had affected them. "They said thank you very much, but no thanks. These guys were young, in their 20s, they acted very strong. So we said our goodbyes and continued to just talk amongst ourselves. A few minutes later, the men came back to us and said that it might be a good idea. So we found a tree to sit under and got started. By the end of the hour, the group had expanded to 25 people," says Shah.

Shah and his makeshift support group helped people open up about their experiences. "Their stories were just so heartfelt. Some said they didn't know what to do with themselves; others felt like they were being judged and didn't want to take charity," he says. Shah was particularly touched by a man named Mahesh who told the story of a dear friend who lost his life. The friend was frantic when he realized the wave had struck his family's dwelling and destroyed it. He was so devastated, he simply ran into the water and drowned himself. "Mahesh couldn't do anything about his friend drowning, and later, he was reunited with his now dead friend's family—they had survived. Mahesh was speechless. He told me he couldn't say anything to them; he couldn't even look at them. He felt so guilty that he let his friend die. It was a very difficult story," says Shah. "I told him I could understand his grief, and that I found the entire story very sad. I helped him understand that his feelings were normal. My hope was that he would eventually feel OK about his feelings."

Episodes such as this one demonstrate how Shah's work is crucial to the rebuilding of lives. Still, Shah is humbly reluctant to take much credit. "The real heroes are the organizations that are there 365 days a year. I'm just a bystander. What I did was very ordinary. The people who are doing extraordinary things—they're the ‘lifeguards.' They're always on the lookout for trouble."

itting in the comfort of his home in Falls Church, Virginia, Bashir Malik felt guilty when the news and images of the Asian tsunami started to trickle in. As the director of administrative services for Humanity First, an international humanitarian relief and development organization, he knew that the American branch of the organization would collect funds for relief work. Other branches of Humanity First, such as Humanity First Germany, Indonesia and UK, were focused on relief efforts. Still, Malik wanted to do more. He emailed the chairman of Humanity First USA, stating that he was available to do what he could. "I offered to go to Indonesia, at my own expense, and by taking vacation time off from my job ... I just wanted to be a part of it, because I felt we could contribute," he says.

The HF chairman agreed, and on January 15, Malik was off to Indonesia on a data collecting mission. He would work with Humanity First organizations from other countries to understand what was needed, and he would use that information to help determine the best use of Humanity First USA's funds. But he wasn't prepared for what he encountered.

"What amazes me is that when you see the electronic images on TV, that's one thing. But when you go out and meet with people in the flesh and blood, it's a totally different feeling. That's what made the trip very profound. I don't want to call them victims—they are survivors," says Malik.

For six days, Malik traveled to devastated parts of Indonesia, collecting information and studying people's experiences. He worked closely with Humanity First Indonesia, which was responsible for staffing two relief camps in Banda Aceh and Lamno. The camps offered medical assistance and two hot meals a day to thousands of survivors. "There was no way for me to do anything independently," he recalls. "I was dependent on Humanity First Indonesia."

HF Indonesia certainly helped Malik to see much of the destruction firsthand. "The people who survived were still in shock," he says. "When we would pass through areas where there had been total demolition, you didn't see any human beings. All you would see is destruction. You would only see a person here or there." What Malik did notice, however, was the distinct smell of decomposing bodies.

But Malik forced himself to be objective about his observations. "The more I saw, the more I thought, what can we do to help these people? I was driven by the job at hand. I did not want to get emotionally attached, or I might lose my thought processes," he explains.

What needs to be done
Instead, he focused on sending reports back to HF-USA headquarters. Malik realized that though the world was generous in sending supplies to afflicted countries, such efforts were often in vain. "There are no roads," he says. "The world needs to stop sending aid from the outside, because they don't have a transportation system to distribute it. I saw sacks of clothing, presumably for needy people, that were just sitting there, unused." Malik used that knowledge to tailor HF's efforts. "For example, in the camps we have adopted, we don't just throw in sacks of clothes and say, ‘figure out what you need.' We find clothes that fit the people and distribute them accordingly." He also noticed that many of the villagers who needed clothing didn't feel comfortable with or understand how to don western-style clothes. "The men wear lungis or dhothis, the women wear sarongs and headscarves. The world should be cognizant of that. Some organizations were sending blankets, but this is a tropical place."

"How many times do you go into a store in the United States and find garments made in Indonesia?" he asks. "We are better off finding vendors over there that can make their kinds of clothes," he explains, citing that the economic stimulation would be invaluable, as well.

Malik's assessments are assisting Humanity First USA and other organizations determine how they can best aid tsunami survivors in rebuilding their lives. He emphasizes the importance of donating money to relief organizations that ensure the funds will reach the people who are affected by the tragedy. "It would have been very easy for Humanity First USA to simply have donated a check for $300,000. But working with the camps, rebuilding the lives of 2,500 people—it's a miniscule number—but at least we know we made a difference in the lives of 2,500 people. Now, the Indonesian government is going to build an orphanage, and HF is going to help support it financially," he adds.

Despite the detachment Malik tried to maintain, he was still deeply impacted by the scope of the tragedy. "When you see this much destruction, this much loss of life and property, it makes you really wonder what your focus is," he muses. "In the United States, we live with all these amenities—it's practically heaven. You come back to the US and see people sweating the small stuff, and you think, none of this really matters. Our problems seem so trivial."