Colombo’s ‘invisible people’ at the mercy of nature

Clothes hang on fences; toys are seen floating on murky brown water; pillows clog the drains and people, already weighed down with life’s burdens, clean their mud-stained wooden shacks in a rhythmic and experienced manner.

These are the ‘invisible people’ of Mabola and Wellampitiya, towns just north of the Sri Lankan capital Colombo. They are daily-wage workers, living on the brink of poverty, who have been exposed to the harsh realities of the monsoon once again.

This time though, Mother Nature has been exceptionally harsh, with virtually non-stop rain over the past couple of months. November was particularly cruel, with flash floods even hitting parts of Colombo.

The workers, who are forced to settle ‘illegally’ in marshy areas due to a shortage of land, are particularly vulnerable to flooding during the monsoon. Living downstream of industrial estates, they’re not only at the mercy of the rising waters but are also exposed to pollution from the waste released by factories, which often manufacture for top multinational companies.

Visiting these areas as we try to provide flood relief exposes me to this harsh world on the outskirts of Colombo for the first time.

“No one really cares about us,” Pushpakumara, a trishaw driver and father of three, observes disdainfully. “We are the invisible people, not showing up on anyone’s records. These estates discharge their effluents into the river and when the water level rises, the dirty water with unbearable smells comes into our living rooms and kitchens.”

I’m conscious of a pungent odour permeating this area of largely stagnant water. With the flooding of whatever meagre sanitation existed here, toxic chemicals create a cocktail of potential diseases for residents. Wading in these waters is to gamble with your health. 

There have already been reports of snake bites affecting children, as well as one of my staff who forgets his protective equipment and stupidly decides to wade barefoot. Luckily he suffers a very minor bite, and I’m quickly able to put my first aid knowledge into practice.

At the local mosque, which is the only centre serving a mixed community of Muslims, Tamils and Sinhalese, Mr Rumy, a local businessman, directs operations much like an army commander on the field.

“These people have no representation. Whilst the government recognises them by providing electricity and water connections, when such a disaster happens, they are left to fend for themselves,” he laments. “If it was not for the help of local community people and other humanitarian organisations, they would have been left to suffer for themselves.”

Fatima is a former housemaid who worked in the Middle East. Since her alcoholic husband abandoned her and her three children, she has been working as a cook in a small restaurant, living in a two-room wooden shack divided up into four spaces including a kitchen and toilet. 

Standing in the middle of what was her living room, she recollects with a sad smile on her face: “We simply had to tolerate everything. We had to flee to the mosque leaving behind whatever valuables we had. Now the water levels are still high and we have a threat of snakes. Our children cannot go to school as all their books and uniforms have been destroyed.”

Here in this room, I grasp the reality of this new set of ‘invisible people’, as Pushpakumara so eloquently put it. They haven’t suffered from Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict or the tsunami, yet seem to be living in worse conditions than either of these two groups, with very little support from the government or humanitarian agencies.  The rains have now ceased in Colombo but for these people, the struggle continues to restart their lives but underlying this is the knowledge that if the rains come once again, the situation will be the same.   My dilemma is how do we help them out of this vicious circle?

These people are invisible because of the poverty and insecurity of their lives. They need support in their struggle to improve their living conditions. Working together as a community, they have the potential to climb out of their plight. But first they need to be seen and heard.