KYAUKTAN, Myanmar -- Where her home used to stand, 40-year-old Thidala is now struggling to keep her family safe and dry from the seasonal rains with only two sticks and a sheet of tarpaulin.
Her house was destroyed when Cyclone Nargis swept through southwest Myanmar three weeks ago, and little help has reached her village of Kyauktan, a small settlement surrounded by paddy fields.
"When it rains the ground becomes muddy and soggy and we all get wet," Thidala said, as her elderly mother squatted under their paltry shelter.
"Please take as many pictures as you want, put it on the Internet -- let the world know our plight."
This village, southeast of Yangon, has a population of about 2,000, but at least 100 of them were killed when the flood waters from the cyclone reached shoulder level and swept away homes and families.
A total of 133,000 were left dead or missing across the storm zone.
Myanmar's military junta has repeatedly said that the relief effort is in hand and it does not need foreign help, frustrating aid workers who warn that the scale of the disaster would overwhelm any country.
UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon left Myanmar late Friday with assurances from junta head Than Shwe that the situation would change and more foreign help would be allowed to flow to about 2.4 million survivors.
Supplies are desperately needed -- the UN and other aid agencies estimate about 1.5 million people were left homeless by the storm, and getting them under cover is crucial as the annual monsoon rains begin to pour.
So far, foreign agencies have reached about only 100,000 of the homeless to provide them with basic shelters.
People in Kyauktan appear to have given up waiting for help, and despite their personal tragedies, have gotten on with the task of trying to make some money to rebuild their homes and lives.
"When it rains, my son and I sit in a corner and hold an umbrella. We are only able to rebuild our home now that my son has done some work in a factory and earned some money," a 75-year-old man told Agence France-Presse.
"I'm very angry with this government. I feel like killing someone now. This government does not care for its people."
Women squatted on the damp ground in the village centre, using dirty utensils to cook meals for their families. Children, pale and weak, stood naked amid the stench of stagnant water, faces blank and staring.
"My grandson has a runny nose and we don't have money to buy medicine. We have not received any aid from the government," said 55-year-old Ayamani.
"We do not have any money. My son has died and I need to find a job to support the three of us."
Rebuilding homes is not a cheap task. The price of dry palm leaves used for roofing has rocketed from seven dollars for 100 pieces to 23 dollars for the same amount -- a princely sum in a village where most people work as farmers and laborers and earn just 25 dollars a month.
Instead, people are trying to be creative with the single plastic sheet they have been handed, or are using wet palm leaves and sliced bamboo to double as flooring and roofs.
When visiting dignitaries such as Ban have toured the cyclone-hit areas, the junta has steered them to state-run camps, where rows of smart blue tents house grateful families and bottles of mineral water stand outside.
The United Nations said in its latest internal report, however, that of the 110,000 people who were gathered in temporary shelters, only two percent of them were in tented camps, with the rest crammed in monasteries and schools.
Near Kyauktan, about 40 blue tents sit on high ground. Villagers say people living there have clean water and ample food, but 60-year-old storm survivor Win said that only a select few were allowed in the tents.
"It's a display camp to demonstrate that the government is caring for the people," he said.
"Those who really need the facilities are not staying there. They (the junta) fear they will tell the foreigners about the suffering."