Survivors see only despair in cyclone's wake
U KHIN-HLAING, Myanmar (Reuters) - U Thein's back glistens in the morning sunshine, two raw red stripes where her skin used to be.
Villagers wince when they peer at her wounds -- burns sustained from a blazing tree that fell on her as the hammering winds of Cyclone Nargis struck six days ago.
Sparks from a dozen evening cooking fires ignited the debris -- fallen trees and matchstick remains of bamboo huts -- before the sea rose up to engulf the village, 8 miles north of Labutta in the western fringes of the delta.
U Thein hardly feels the pain. All she can think about is the head-high wall of water that swept away her 8-year-old son and a daughter born only three months ago.
"My heart is empty," she whispered, staring blankly into space.
Around her, in hushed tones, villagers say more than 100 of their friends and relatives were killed in Saturday's devastation. Many of the victims were fishermen whose boats were anchored in the creeks and lakes of the vast delta area.
The sea surge and 120 mph (190 kmh) winds ripped the tiny village apart, tearing down coconut groves and ripping the roofs off buildings, including the local primary school.
A Buddhist temple has offered shelter to those worst-affected. At the centre of the precinct, sits a golden statue of the Buddha, smiling serenely. Around the compound, the floor is strewn with rubble and broken glass.
Outside, scores of trees block pathways or balance precariously on top of the few buildings left standing.
Besides the cawing of crows and gentle weeping of the destitute, the only sound is the hamering of nails as villagers desperately try to rebuild their homes in the malaria-infested swamplands.
No soldiers or government agencies have turned up to help.
"We have to get shelter. We have to get shelter," said San Myint. She and her brother have been sawing and hammering since dawn to repair their shattered home.
"The mosquitoes are eating us at night," the 50-year-old said. "But we were lucky. We survived."
Inside the Buddhist temple, U Thein carefully covers her breasts. Six days ago, they were a source of food. Now they are just an heart-wrenching reminder of her loss.
"They are gone. They are gone," she said.
(Writing by Ed Cropley; Editing by Bill Tarrant)
