As we swerve towards the jetty, rattling over the waves in a speed boat, the island scene is so idyllic it could be an advertisement in a travel brochure. Lush, wooded hillsides, white beaches with coconut palms swaying gently in the breeze, azure seas lapping the shore.

It's only when you look up close that you see the traces of the massive tsunami that devastated the homes and lives of the 12,000 inhabitants of Pulo Breuh, part of a group of islands floating just off the tip of Aceh in Indonesia. Giant waves triggered by a 9.15 magnitude earthquake that hit on Dec. 26, 2004 claimed the lives of around half the island's population.

The disaster left nearly 170,000 people dead or missing in the northern Sumatran province alone.

Much of the debris left by the tsunami has been cleared away. But there are still rotting tree trunks scattered along the beach, wrecked fishing boats and the dilapidated remains of a few wooden houses. In their place, most families are now living in neat groups of freshly painted pastel-coloured houses built by international aid agencies.

The British Red Cross (BRC) - which I'm travelling with as a communications officer - offered local people a choice: a two-bedroom concrete-brick house with a tin roof or a more traditional-style wood-frame house on stilts. They are built to withstand a magnitude 6 earthquake; and should protect people inside up to magnitude 7.

Fisherman Zainal Abidin plumped for the stilt model. When the tsunami hit, he was down by the beach collecting coral. He survived by swimming in the water for half an hour, but his colleague did not. The family also lost a granddaughter and their maid.

"I chose this house on stilts because I am afraid of another earthquake and tsunami. I am 60 years old and I have only experienced one tsunami like this," he says. "I am happier in this house."

But living in safer buildings is only one way villagers are better equipped to cope with any future disasters. With funds from the Red Cross, they have constructed escape routes to higher ground, and planted trees to protect the shoreline, replacing those uprooted by the tsunami.

To plan and implement these projects, the Red Cross has also helped them create groups known as community-based action teams (CBAT). The members are chosen by the villagers, and include women, older people and younger people.

"There's something about people just coming together to think about issues and address issues," explains Dave Mather, head of the BRC Indonesia programme. "Such a terrible disaster becomes something you just tuck away, and you don't want to think about it. But if you can help people to think about those things, and talk about what happened, then they will be better prepared for a future disaster."

Today the CBAT of Paloh village has agreed to perform a disaster preparedness drama they've written themselves. It's the first time they've taken it to another village on the island, although they've staged it in the provincial capital of Banda Aceh.

An enthusiastic audience of children gathers, and a sprinkling of curious adults peer over their shoulders. The role play - in the Acehnese language - has them all in stitches from the start.

First, we get a taste of life before the tsunami - a mother scolds her child for getting his clothes dirty and is chided by her husband for being too harsh; a group of youngsters chat each other up; fishermen get ready to go to sea. Then the tsunami comes. Many people are killed, and the mother weeps over the body of her dead son.

After the disaster, a group of villagers get together for a meeting and start thinking about how they can prevent the same thing happening again. Along comes a foreign aid worker (named "David" and played by a lad in white sunglasses and a long brown wig) who asks what his organisation can do to help. He is told the village team needs support to put their ideas into practice.

Next time a tsunami comes, there's a warning and the villagers head to safer ground, helping pregnant women, the elderly and disabled people to get away with them. Only a few people are injured by the wave, and they are given first aid by the community.

From the raucous laughter, it's clear the spectators enjoy the comic bits, and afterwards they suggest it would be good to show it on local TV.

"They are glad because now they know what to do during a tsunami," explains Katijah, the mother in the play. "Some of them did and some of them didn't before, but after seeing us perform, they will know how to save people."

BRC staff and volunteers are keen to stress that while they have assisted communities with money and organisational skills, the ideas for measures to reduce the risk of disasters - from earthquakes to landslides and floods - come mainly from the local people themselves. They tell me they've become wiser about the importance of good community relations for making a programme successful.

I ask Khaliddin, aka "David", the aid worker in the drama, what outsiders like his character might have learned from the people of Paloh. After consulting with other cast members, he reels off a fairly impressive list: "Working hand-in-hand, working together as a community to achieve objectives, ethics, politeness and local customs."

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