PARIAMAN, Indonesia (AlertNet) – What both aid workers and media are still struggling to get a handle on in the aftermath of the West Sumatra earthquake is the scale of the disaster.

Both professions are driven by statistics – in general, the bigger the disaster and the number of casualties, the bigger the coverage and possibly the bigger the donations.

We know what the magnitude of the quake was (7.6), we know when it happened (17:15 local time) and where (57 km offshore, close to Padang Pariaman district in West Sumatra).

Indonesia's official toll from the quake is 704 dead and 295 missing, but the health minister said it could reach 3,000. And the United Nations on Friday launched an appeal for $38 million

Yet, more than a week has passed by and we are none the wiser over damages beyond the big cities and the number of villages hit by the quake. Most aid workers say the figures are incomplete.

What is abundantly clear, however, is that it has affected real people and real lives.

I visited a remote village called Sungai Puar Tanjong Mutus in Pariaman District with the Red Cross on Monday. The road was not accessible the day before due to landslides.

Nestled among coconut trees, vegetation and paddy fields, the road to Sungai Puar Tanjong Mutus winds its way along numerous small villages, and there was destruction on both sides.

One house was nothing but a pile of rubber, with bright coloured clothes in little bundles atop broken piles of wood and bricks. Landslides and earthquakes have left some places with fallen coconut trees, snapped power lines and flattened houses.

Then we got to the village, rather, to the road leading to the village. Landslides meant we had to walk through soft mud to what must have been a picturesque village surrounded by hills on one side and lush rice fields on the other.

Heavy machinery was at work, brought in not more than an hour ago, to clear an area where a house stood just a few days ago. The earthquake and subsequent landslide had buried the house and three family members – parents and their 17-year-old son.

People sat in front of their ruined houses – apparently almost all of the 150 houses were damaged – and under makeshift shelters watching the proceedings with a grim but matter-of-fact eye. Kids being kids, they were interested in the foreigners with gadgets and a gaggle of them followed us wherever we went.

There was also a young volunteer with Red Cross. He’s 18 and he couldn't express his emotion and sorrow of the boy almost his age buried somewhere deep under the mud.

Soon after, the villagers got into the act, using shovels to get the dig while the machine moved to another area.

I left thinking of the boy in the mud and the boy outside waiting to evacuate his body. And of the grieving father who saw his two children swept away, the family at Cubadak Air village who were living under pieces of borrowed and ripped tarpaulin and the smiling Wati at Padang Karambia village whose attendance at a neighbour’s wedding saved her life.

And of the villagers, who, despite living in one of the world’s quake-prone areas and suffering a devastating disaster, remained cheerful and friendly. In every place we went, they offered us food, shared their stories and welcomed us with open arms.

This quake may not be as big as the one in Yogyakarta three and a half years ago or generate a tsunami in Indian Ocean like five years ago, but the loss and impact is no less painful. And it affects the rescuers, the rescued and the witnesses.

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