"I need to go to Aceh"

the voice at the other end of the phone told me.

I suppose I should not have been surprised - except that the caller is now closer to eighty than sixty. He has been up there three times now. The first was just after the 2004 tsunami. 

I don't think I will ever forget my first contact with the small group of men who went off to help rebuild a shattered community in a remote Indonesian area. They were about the most unlikely volunteers possible. 

I thought they were being utterly irresponsible. I sat down to talk to them to try and dissuade them from going. At the end of the conversation I was ready to help. They had thought things through. They were taking everything they needed, not just tools but food and shelter. They were strong and healthy. They had the skills to do what they planned to do. They had a specific goal they wanted to achieve - and then they were getting out again. 

These men did the job they planned to do and then they left. They have been back since and done similar work. They have always gone and returned quietly. The last thing they want is publicity and I will respect their wishes except to say, "I wish there were more like you." 

All of them looked like members of the toughest sort of motorcycle gang. Those who remain still look rather like that. I saw two of them yesterday and got some rather odd looks from passers by as we sat in a cafe and talked about their plans. Yes, their communication boards need a bit of updating but there are people there now who speak some English and that will help. 

They are going up to help with the repair of an essential building that can be used as accommodation while other things are repaired.  It is a testament to their earlier work that this is one of the buildings which is still standing. They built it from debris in 2004. They will also show some of the young people there how to repair a footbridge over one of the many rivers. That was built on another visit. It will allow aid to get across much more quickly even if it has to be done by handcart. 

I ask about how long they plan to be there, about their other arrangements. This time I know they will have all these things organised. Their flights and other travel plans have already been arranged. Who is paying? They are - with some help from their families. This is their Christmas gift to each other and a community they have come to know. 

No, I cannot contribute anything else. I am, according to them, "doing (my) bit". Perhaps I am but it is nothing like their contribution.

The cafe owner brings my trike in from where he has put it safely "out back". It's a rather rough area of the city. They walk back to the station with me. Their handshakes are firm as they see me safely on to the train.    

Yes, some of the most unlikely looking men from rough backgrounds but I admire them.