4 years on...

It is strange that the most vivid memories that stay with you are the ones which have caused you the most torment.  I can remember it as if it were yesterday.  At 4.30am on the 26^th of December 2004, my phone started to ring….. It was my mother on the line from Colombo frantically saying that there was ‘severe flooding’ in the east of Sri Lanka and my grandmother had been affected.  The rest of the day will always be a blur to me on a snowy Boxing Day morning as reports came in of the tsunami.

 I took one of the first flights out to Sri Lanka still unsure as to the gravity of the whole situation. The effect of the tsunami were realized when I boarded a half empty Sri Lankan airlines plane to Colombo.  It seems that there were at least 150 last minute cancellations.  Touching down early morning in Colombo, I was struck by the air of gloom that seemed to be in the air of the airport as staff seemed to be moving around filled with some sort of despondency, almost glad to see the arrival of someone to their country after the rapid departures of so many people. The atmosphere in Colombo was tinged with an element of sadness, as everywhere from rickshaws to private houses were flying the traditional white flag of mourning. 

After an arduous 12 hour drive to the east to search for my Grandmother, what confronted us was beyond description like a scene out of a movie.  The sheer brute force of nature was easy to see.  One can only contemplate that in the face of such raw energy it was very apparent that man is but a helpless creature.  In an almost catatonic state, people were sifting through the destroyed remains of their homes. The detritus of disaster occasionally offered up possessions like mangled bicycles or touching mementoes of a life before the horror swept through. All too often, the smell of the decomposing remains of those who were not quick enough to escape the deluge, were yielded to those entrusted with search and rescue.  On one occasion, they had run out of burial cloth and had to make do with bed sheets and other bits of material.  Eventually the number of bodies became so great, that excavators were used to dig the graves and dump trucks were used to bury the bodies.  On average, everyone in the first couple of days of the disaster must have individually handled 100 bodies, from young children to pregnant mothers to old people.  The damage was so tremendous that even 5 weeks after the disaster struck, remains were being discovered.

The East of Sri Lanka bore the brunt of the tsunami with the village of Marathumunai being the first to be hit.  In one part of that village, almost 3000 people were killed as the only evidence of the existence of the village being the slab of concrete that signified the floors of their houses.

This unprecedented disaster robbed the country of children and elders. It was striking in all the villages one visited along this 25 mile coastal stretch in the east of Sri Lanka at how few children there were. Parents told stories of how they tried to hold on to their children, but were forced to let go when the waves crashed into them. Young bodies were tossed helplessly and washed up days later, crushed under the force of the water. “I could not hold on to him,” one grieving father at one of the camps cried to me. “I should not be alive. What kind of father am I that I live while my child, who looked to me to protect him, lies buried somewhere?” One of the first rescue workers on the scene told of how he found the small bodies of 4 children clinging to their father underneath the rubble of their house. Elderly people also were a rare sight. They, too, were unable to run fast enough and were either swept away or crushed in their beds. Whole generations were lost.  

There  are stories of courage in the face of adversity though, like the  story of a courageous primary school teacher who tried to get his 40 charges to safety by helping them on to the roof of their school house. The wave claimed the lives of all the children. When the teacher was found he was clutching a child under each arm, unwilling to relinquish his responsibility to the children he loved even when his own life was at stake. Villagers still speak of him in terms of a saint. He could have easily escaped but resolutely stood and faced death rather than abandon those he had sworn to protect.  

It is said that every Sri Lankan has been affected directly or indirectly by this tsunami.  There are whole families that have been wiped out (30 – 40 members) or where the grandfather and the grandchild have survived.  I  was able to find my grandmother, but lost  5 members of my  extended family.  My aunt who was 6 months pregnant miraculously survived because her husband managed to get to safety to avoid the rising water, losing his life in the process.  Today 4 years on, I find it hard to tell my 3 year old cousin that his father died in order to save him, when he asks me about him.  

There is something humbling about visiting a refugee camp to hand out relief aid, and the person who receives it is a relative of yours or a friend whom you played with when you were young.  How can you explain giving out clothes and food as charity to the people that you know?  It is also very distressing.  How do you comfort them?  How do you explain to your family that some members had to die and others did not?  How do you comfort parents who had a choice to make between which children to save?

Yet, amongst  all that carnage; examples of mercy were evident. The number of tremendous people who had gathered to provide support and assistance at such a time of need was evident of a higher spiritual cause that united  us in the humanity of mankind.  The response of the local people and organisations was  amazing, as everywhere you went, in their own way people are trying to  help.  For once regardless of ethnicity, religion or language, people were uniting to help each other.  ‘These are my fellow countrymen.  The wave was indiscriminate in its action, so why should we discriminate in our response’, was the most common expression.

These lessons of generosity, humanity and humility are lessons of a higher spirituality. I remember thinking to myself that these words gave light at a time of darkness.  

However 4 years on whilst many agencies are wrapping up their tsunami programs and going home, the work has not yet finished.  Not everyone has been given a house and a new livelihood.  To make matters worse, the conflict has meant that attention has been shifted away from the tsunami reconstruction. 

4 years on, we remember that for a very brief period the tsunami had achieved in a couple of minutes what people for the past 57 years had failed to do ‘Unite the Sri Lankan People’

4 years on, it is this that we need to remember when we remember those who perished.  Cities can be rebuilt.  It is the wounds of the heart and the mind which needs to be addressed.  Perhaps those who perished can serve as a reminder of the unity of diversity that we need to practice.   For it can only be with this unity that will help to lift Sri Lanka from the hole it has fallen into.  It will require the combined effort of everyone to heal the internal scars that has affected the nation.

                                        

sense of inevitability

There is a sense of inevitability in Sri Lanka at the moment.  Each day the sms news alerts and the newspapers tells a story of an advancing Sri Lankan army venturing ever so close to Kilinochi, the ‘capital’ of the LTTE self declared  homeland.  Each night the ‘embedded’ reporters of the mainly government run or pro government tv stations report from the front line.  Almost like watching a race in slow motion, the countdown has every one watching with bated breath, 15 km! 10 km! 5 km!  It has now become a question of when not if!

For the man on the street, it is obvious.  Strike up a conversation with anyone from a taxi driver to a grocery store keeper and the tone is the same ‘our boys are nearing closer.  We will win!!’

For the humanitarian organisations involved especially those at the front line, the ‘boys’ maybe nearing closer, but there is still the question of the civilians, who like in any other conflict are the real victims after being caught in the middle of something they did not start or want a part of.  The recent government request for agencies to vacate to safer areas was met with some reluctance.  Understandable to some extent considering the plight of the civilians especially as they face the danger of getting caught in cross fire, a concern as regards the mandate of the organisations, particularly as no one seems to have a grip on what the final numbers are.   But the reluctance was met with the usual cynicism from certain parts of the media and certain political parties who cried conspiracy theory accusing agencies of trying to create a ‘kosovo like’ scenario.

It is a tough situation and no one exactly knows what to say or not to say.   People within the humanitarian community are reluctant to comment for fear of sounding anti state but there is a real and genuine concern.  Whatever final numbers of displaced people there will be, the concern is always with regards to looking after them and their welfare and eventually their future.

This is something that people are not yet talking about.  The question of ‘what next?’ is not on the lips of people just yet, but it must be in the back of their minds.  As the guns go quiet and normalcy beckons, what is the next step?  How easy will it be?

Therein lies the conundrum.  After twenty plus years of conflict and even a greater number of years of ethnic polarisation, the wounds are deep and severe.   There will be the task of resettling people back to their homelands.  For some of these people, it will be after decades of living in refugee camps either in Putallum, the east or across the water in India.  Their families have led their lives for the last 20 years or so under these difficult situations, their children have gone to school, got married and had kids of their own.  What about the land rights or compensation?  How about livelihoods and infrastructure?

Houses may be rebuilt and people may be resettled but the real task is how do you reconcile the community?

The years have ensured that layer and layer of mistrust has been built up.  How does one even go about tearing down these walls? To truly reconcile this requires a change of heart .  The answer has to come from the people themselves.  They will have to reach in deep into themselves to come out with the answers to reconcile, to forgive and to move on.  That change of heart has to come from a strong spiritual foundation.  Hence a great role in reconciliation will have to be played by rediscovering the spiritual base and giving a greater role to be played collectively by the faith community.

It is not surprising because largely throughout history (give or take a few episodes), it has been the power of spirituality, flavoured by the various religious teachings, that  has sustained peace and harmony among the diverse citizenry.  Where this spirituality and responsibility has become diluted into faith and ethnic identity and rights, it has 

become ineffective to guide the people.   

In Sri Lanka the conflict has polarized different segments of the society dividing the communities amongst ethnic, religious and caste differences and instilling fear and suspicion amongst each other.

The success and stability of any solution to the conflict and post conflict reconstruction will depend among building trust, removing suspicion and eradicating the fear that prevails among the local communities.

There are three things that are essential for this to happen effectively:

• Intellectual empathy,
• Deep faith and rationality
• Spirituality.

These three factors ensure that dialogue can be done with patience and humility and done in a spirit so as a move can be made towards respecting, understanding and accepting each other and their differences in an atmosphere of justice and equality.  

The great leaders of the world such as Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr and Nelson Mandela, have all professed and practiced non-violent social actions as a way of establishing peace and justice.

The role that spirituality plays in influencing this spirit of non retaliation and forgiveness can not be under emphasised. This requires not only no violence but also peoples’ awareness of their internal power and commitment to use it with responsibility.   A solution that does not involve respect for the opponent cannot resolve the underlying conflict and create an environment for consolidating a lasting understanding and acceptance.

Sri-Lanka has the spiritual base to make that change, to forget and forgive and to teach that  everyone came from the same source and everyone  has a space in it.

Sri Lanka's forgotten displaced

When Mohamed Lateef got married and took over a rice farm, he was looking forward to settling down to a quiet life of farming and raising his family. But just a few months later his dream was shattered.

In 1990 the rebel Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam forcibly evicted Lateef and 70,000 other Muslims from their homes in northern Sri Lanka, and confiscated most of their possessions.

Without knowing where they were headed, these desperate people moved south. Most of them trekked miles for days on end, and many died on the journey.

Eventually Lateef and the other survivors found themselves in Puttalam, a town with a sizeable Muslim population. There they were received by the locals and housed in makeshift refugee camps.

Eighteen years on, and Lateef is still in Puttalam with his family, living in the same camp in a coconut-leaf hut which offers little protection from the elements. He relies on daily wages to support his wife and three children, all born in the camp.

"I don't think about the past. It just makes me sick," he says wearily. "There is no future for me to think about. I just think about the present and how I can give my family at least two square meals a day."

This mass exodus has been largely forgotten in the annals of the Sri Lankan conflict.

Successive governments have failed to provide adequate support for the displaced, who find themselves without much of a voice, despite having some representation in the government.

The camps lack proper schooling, decent shelter and sanitation.

"Every so often we get the refugee tourists, who come and see us, take photographs, give us some money, promise additional help and disappear," says A.B. Niyas, the camp leader of the Saltern Internal Displacement Camp.

Most of the camps' residents are dependent on menial jobs or handouts from philanthropists, the government and humanitarian organisations.

Puttalam still houses approximately 100,000 internally displaced people (IDPs) from the Northern Province. In recent years Puttalam has also played host to Tamil and Sinhala IDPs who have been driven from their homes in Batticaloa and Trincomalee, Eastern Province. The town is beginning to buckle under the pressure.

There is now fear that a fresh crisis could develop as tensions rise between the camps' residents and the original Muslim inhabitants, who say they have grown tired of the newcomers taking their jobs and buying their land.

"We did all we could for them when they first arrived," says Naleer, a businessman from Puttalam. "But they're placing an unbearable strain on resources."

Naleer says the education and healthcare services can't cope and, whereas the displaced receive government support and help from international aid agencies, the original residents do not.

"The situation has created a lot of hate," says Naleer.

Other critics say the camp-dwellers do little to help themselves because they know they will always have sympathetic support.

But M. Rahman, an activist from a local community-based organization set up by the displaced people, says the camp residents just want to go back home. "We are from Jaffna or Mullaitivu. We lived side by side with our Tamil neighbours without much problem. We want to go back to that."

Until 1990, the Tamil and Muslim communities co-existed fairly harmoniously in the north. Eighteen years after the evictions, the displaced Muslims still speak affectionately of their old Tamil neighbours.

After the government and Tamil Tigers signed a Ceasefire Agreement in February 2002, some families returned to their homes in the north only to find their houses occupied by displaced Tamils or rebels, or destroyed. Those who stuck it out were soon forced to return to Puttalam when fighting escalated once more.

The flame of hope needs to be reignited for these forgotten camp-dwellers of Puttalam, and it is high time their problems are resolved 18 years after they lost their homes.

this originally appeared here

Rice: A problem for the people

It was inevitable, but the global food crisis, was bound to rear its ugly head sooner or later in Sri Lanka…

The first incident was the unwelcome news that WFP and other UN Agencies were cutting their food aid to displaced people in Sri Lanka as a result of the rising food prices.  We felt it because our organisation had a joint school feeding program with WFP in the south which has seemingly stalled as WFP has literally pulled operations from the south.

The other incident which has come to my mind is the recent vesak holidays in Sri Lanka.  Billed as the last long weekend for a while in Sri Lanka (notorious for its numerous public holidays), it was supposed to be a time of great celebration (which is always welcome) with lots of lanterns and the provision of Dhansala, which can best be described as the provision of free food to the public.  Literally in every nook and cranny, a  stall is set up and people give away food to passers by.  Stop at a traffic light and you are bound to be approached  by someone bringing something to eat.  People’s generosity knows no bounds…..

This year’s vesak was a little bit subdued.  Whilst many would argue that the ongoing security situation (not helped by the bomb that went off on the Friday before the Vesak weekend) contributed it was evident that something else was wrong.  This was evident from the Dhansala that was being served.  Traditionally it is rice and some accompaniments that is served.  However this time, there was a variation from the 2 minute Maggi noodles, to soup to fruits, anything but rice.

‘You see rice is expensive and the cost of cooking gas has gone up and so we can not do these as we used to’, a Dhansala stall holder ruefully remarked to me, reflecting the pinch that many ordinary people are feeling in terms of cost of living increases and rising food prices.

As the ‘silent tsunami’ (as it has been called by the world bank) slowly engulfs us, many people in Sri Lanka will not realise their plight until they are struck.  Whilst it is the poor and the most vulnerable that will be the first to suffer, no one is immune from the rising prices.  Yet in a country such as Sri Lanka which has blessed natural resources, the mere fact that food still has to be imported is a wonder

Yet the worrying part is how little this is of concern for people.  Much more than any other issue is the issue of food security which should be gripping people.  The mere fact that some people are going to bed hungry whilst others have plenty to eat is from all spiritual teachings a crime.

There are still weddings taking place in grand hotels and exclusive dinners that are being held where food is being wasted and thrown without any concern for the value and worth of what is put on the plate.  There are still people who insist on eating rice three times a day because they want to.

The government like other governments has responded by importing rice from Myanmar, (a decision that became controversial as the first shipment came to Sri Lanka just days after cyclone Nargis hit Myanmar devastating its paddy supply) and seeking to artificially control the price rise and to stop hoarding.  However mere political and economic measures are not enough.

At times such as this, there is a need for dialogue and discussion on how collectively people can respond to this globally emerging crisis.  People need to be thinking of the short, medium and long terms in the case of addressing vulnerability.  Many countries have started food banks to address this issue, whilst others are talking about supporting better agricultural practices and addressing trade. Many people are talking about a change of diet and change of lifestyle. The key point is that Sri Lanka has been slow in starting or realising this point

Sri Lanka may still be a long way off from the food related riots that have gripped other parts of the world, but it may not be soon far from the handing out of dry rations which has so far been confined to parts of the country which have suffered from disaster.

Hopeless existence

In 1989, Mohamed Lateef had just got married and had taken ownership of a rice farm and was looking to settle down to a quiet life of farming and raising his family.  That dream quickly shattered in 1990, when Lateef and 70,000 other members from the Muslim community were forcibly evicted from Northern Sri Lanka by the LTTE, only taking with them minimal possessions and limited amounts of cash with everything else being confiscated by the Tamil Tigers. 

Without knowing where they were going, these desperate people moved south in whatever mode of transport they could find. Most of them trekked miles and miles, days on end with many perishing on the way.  Eventually Lateef and the survivors found themselves in Puttalum, a town with a sizeable Muslim settlement.  There they were received by the locals and housed in makeshift refugee camps.

Eighteen years on, and  Lateef is still in Puttalum with his family, living in the makeshift refugee camp, in  a coconut-leaf hut affording little respite to the elements, relying on daily wage earnings to support his family which has now grown to include 3 children, the oldest being 15, all born in the Saltern Internally Displaced People (IDP) camp in Puttalum.

“I don’t think about the past.  It just makes me sick.  There is no future for me to think about. I gave up thinking about the future a long time ago.  I just think about the present and how I can give my family at least two square meals a day,” he says wearily.

This incident has been largely forgotten in the annals of the Sri Lankan conflict.  Successive governments have failed to provide adequate reprieve and support for the displaced who find themselves in a political wilderness without much of a voice despite having representation in the government.  Problems with education, proper shelter and sanitation plague the camps and so the displaced people are dependent on menial jobs or handouts from philanthropists or the government and humanitarian organisations. On top of this, it has also become a delicate commercialized, criminalized and corrupt political scene.

“Yes we get support” remarks A.B. Niyas, the camp leader of the Saltern IDP camp, cynically.  “Every so often we get the refugee tourists, who come and see us, take photographs, give us some money, promise additional help and disappear.”

Puttalam still houses approximately 100,000 displaced persons across 141 welfare centres, from the five districts of the Northern Province. Over the recent years, Puttalam has also played host to some Tamil and Sinhala IDPs who have been driven away from their homes in Batticaloa and Trincomalee.  The town is beginning to buckle under the pressure of hosting a large IDP population.

Recent incidents in the town have exposed these cracks.  There is now  a new fear that tensions between  the area's original Muslim inhabitants, who have grown tired of the newcomers taking their jobs and, increasingly, buying their land, could lead to further crisis.

"We did all we could for them when they first arrived," says Naleer, an amiable businessman and Puttalum Resident. "But they're placing an unbearable strain on resources. They work cheap, so they've taken people's jobs. They take education, healthcare, too.  They are supported by the government and INGOs on top of this.  We do not get anything from them. The situation has created a lot of hate."   Many critics go on to say that the refugees are perpetually in this situation of desperation without doing much to help themselves, since they know that there will always be sympathetic support.

This is a charge that M. Rahman, an activist from a local CBO set up by the displaced people refutes.  “We just want to go back home.  We don’t want to live anywhere else.  We are from Jaffna or Mullaitivu.  We lived side by side with our Tamil neighbors without much problem.  We want to go back to that”

Until the 1990 incidents, the communities co-existed fairly harmoniously in the north. Eighteen years after the evictions, the displaced Muslims still speak affectionately of their old Tamil neighbours and given the chance would return back to their home towns.  34-year-old Fatima Shafeek, a mother of two, vouches for this. “I was born in Jaffna and that will always be my home.  If I am given the chance I will go back“

After the Ceasefire Agreement was signed in February 2002, a number of these displaced families returned to their homes in the North only to find their houses  occupied by displaced Tamils, or rebels, or destroyed. Those who stuck it out once again left back to Puttalum when the security deteriorated. 

As for Lateef, what does he make of the situation? Well just ask his ten year old son Mujeeb where home is.  He will reply that home is the coconut-leaf shanty in a camp in Puttalam.

So as the world celebrates World Refugee Day, 18 years on from when they were first evicted, the flame of hope needs to be reignited for these forgotten IDPs of Puttalum, to one day find resolution to their problems.