Sunday December 26 2004 started off as an idyllic day along this ragged coastline with its unspoilt stretches of golden sand. The sun was shining, there wasn't a breath of wind and the big African sky was cloudless.
I remember looking out from the deck of our holiday cottage and feeling the warm glow of being home.
Only three days earlier, I had arrived from my adopted home, the island of Phuket in Thailand. There, the beaches can be just as stunning in a tropical, steamy way.
But at 9.30 that morning, tragedy struck.
This was when the island's beaches - and a string of coastal areas across southeast Asia - were hit by a gigantic tsunami caused by an earthquake off the coast of Sumatra in Indonesia. As news of the disaster spread, it reverberated in towns and cities around the globe.
Looking back now, it's hard to believe that 10 years have passed. I would probably not be around to tell this tale if I had not decided at the last minute to return home to South Africa. I had planned to celebrate Christmas with friends on Phi Phi Island, an idyllic settlement off the coast of southern Thailand. More than 1000 people died there as the waves hit the resort. The gods were truly on my side that day.
Back in South Africa, the first inkling I had of the drama taking place thousands of kilometres away was when a friend sent me an SMS saying there had been a tidal wave in Thailand and I should check the BBC.
I thought it was a sick joke, but then I watched in horror as the tragedy unfolded on television. I kept switching channels, desperate to see pictures of my favourite beach, restaurants and the area where I lived. Had my friends survived? What had happened to my home? I knew I had to get back as quickly as possible.
Two days later, I landed in Phuket. It was impossible not to be overwhelmed by the scope of the disaster. The walls of the airport were plastered with photocopied photographs and handwritten notes. "Have you seen this girl, she is our daughter," said one. "Please help me find my mom and dad," said another. The messages had been put up as a last desperate attempt by those flying out without their loved ones.
A command post had been set up at the provincial governor's office in Phuket Town, where all the affected countries had help desks. The biggest were those for Sweden and Germany, who lost a total of 1070 citizens. South Africa had only two small desks, where staff members were battling to locate people on holiday. At this stage, they had the names of four dead; that eventually rose to 17 dead and three missing.
It was here that I met Steve Fitzgerald, then CEO of Conservation Corporation. He was searching for his daughter, Anna, who had been on holiday on Phi Phi with her sister, Kate. Kate had been badly injured and airlifted to Bangkok. While his wife, Nicky, stayed at her bedside, he was on a mission of hope to find Anna.
I accompanied him to the makeshift mortuary set up in the car park of the hospital in Patong Beach. Bodies lay in wooden boxes with photographs pinned to their lids. After days in the tropical heat, the stench was unbearable. I couldn't bear it, but Steve soldiered on. A week later, Anna's body was found. It had been a heartbreaking mission, shared by hundreds of others in the days that followed. I could offer no comfort, and he later remarked that those days in Thailand had changed him forever.
For those of us living in Phuket, it was not easy getting on with business as usual. Day after day, bloated bodies were washed up on the beaches and television channels continued to broadcast the clean-up operation along the coast. I was particularly haunted by the sight of workers finding the body of a woman in the ceiling of her bathroom. They think she was showering when the tsunami struck. The passport found in the safe identified her as a Norwegian and I could not help wondering who she had been on holiday with and what had happened to them.
It is always the small things that bring home the reality of a terrible tragedy. When I visited Phi Phi five days after the disaster, this usually bustling tourist hot spot resembled a war zone. Rescue crews dressed in white overalls combed through the rubble to find the remains of the dead, as helicopters buzzed ahead ferrying bodies to a warship in the bay.
But what I remember most from that gripping scene was the sight of the treasured belongings strewn around. I can still picture some of the things that were tiptoed around - a blue slip-slop, an orange floppy beach hat, a crushed hairdryer and a tattered suitcase. In one muddy puddle I saw a framed photograph of a couple on the beach. Nearby, a Barbie doll with a broken arm was half covered by a pile of bricks. Had that been a Christmas gift to a young girl, perhaps?
If you visit Phuket today, don't expect to see anything to remind you of the tsunami. Cheerful holidaymakers throng the pristine beaches, ride elephants on jungle trails, bargain-hunt in sprawling markets and glitzy new malls and party in the wild clubs late into the night.
In a society where every conceivable trick or treat is used to lure the tourist dollar, you won't find any resort, restaurant or bar using the word "tsunami". If there is a cocktail named after it, I don't know about it.
Perhaps it is understandable that the Thai people, especially those involved in the tourism industry, are reluctant to talk about the tragedy a decade on. Nearly every family was affected by it, in one way or another. Mention it to a Thai and they will probably give you an enigmatic Thai smile and politely change the subject.
As one guesthouse owner told me this week: "We cannot forget what happened, but we don't want to remember it every day. And we don't want our customers to think about it."
There are unobtrusive warning towers on some beaches, but, thankfully, the frightening alarm has gone off only during trial runs. No one wants to hear it for real.
The tsunami may be easy to put out of one's mind in Phuket, but that's almost impossible an hour's drive up the coast on the mainland at Khao Lak. There, along the main road, is a striking reminder of the tsunami - a police patrol boat lying in the spot where it was dumped by the devastating waves. To get to its resting place, the 60-ton vessel was carried more than a kilometre - over resorts, houses and shops.
It is one of the most startling illustrations of just how powerful the tsunami was that killed an estimated 275000 people. The waves, which reached a speed of 500km/h and a height of 20m in places, have been likened by the US Geological Survey to the equivalent of 23000 Hiroshima-type atomic bombs.
Today, the patrol boat at Khao Lak has become a monument and shrine to those who died and will be the focus of the tsunami commemorations on Friday.
Thailand's prime minister, General Prayuth Chan-ocha, will join many relatives and survivors to remember the worst natural disaster to hit the country. It was far worse in Indonesia and Sri Lanka, but about 5400 people lost their lives in Thailand. Half of those were tourists, from more than 40 countries.
The blow to the tourism industry was devastating. It has fully recovered now, but on Phuket Island 159 hotels were destroyed or closed in the six months after the tsunami. The number of holidaymakers fell to virtually zero, with the few hotel guests comprising mainly relatives of the missing and dead, and journalists and officials from affected countries.
What most distinguishes the Asian tsunami from other devastating natural disasters was not the number of lives lost or the impact it had, but the scale of the relief outreach.
Right across the globe people opened their hearts and purses like never before. The fact that it took place the day after Christmas and involved people from so many countries may have been influencing factors, but it certainly struck a nerve with people everywhere.
More than $14-billion was raised, with most coming not from governments but from ordinary members of the public. In South Africa, R6.2-million was donated to a tsunami relief fund and many volunteers travelled to Asia to help.
One of the biggest individual donors was racing ace Michael Schumacher, who gave $10-million in aid to victims. He was to face his own tragedy on December 29 nine years later when he was critically injured in a skiing accident.
On Friday night, one of the most poignant moments will be when relatives and survivors light candles on Patong Beach.
In this annual event, candles are placed in shallow holes in the sand.
The sight of thousands of flickering lights is a sad reminder of those who died. For those who attend, it will be hard not to look out over the still bay and wonder: Could it happen again?
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