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.