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NEXT? Arugam Bay: Ram Muthukumaru - a rugged traveller who has worked in nearly 40 countries - would have endured many a tough, nail-biting experience during his 38-year long sojourn overseas. The tsunami, however, was a different ordeal. The little man wearing a long grey beard shudders just thinking of what happened. "I still can't believe this has happened. I lost all my plants, my beautiful trees," moans the professional cook and former teacher who set up his restaurant and hotel at Arugam Bay in Pottuvil on Sri Lanka's east coast, 26 years ago. As an after-thought, he adds: "My family and I are thankful to be alive." While talking to us in his desolate compound that was once a treasure trove of plants, trees and a beautifully manicured garden, Muthukumaru steals a glance at the remnants of a margosa tree. "Money is not everything. I cared for these trees. I used to talk to them," he says, eyes brimming with tears. Several kilometres away, north, at a camp for displaced persons at Karaitivu near Batticaloa, Kasi Lingam walks in a daze, shaking his head. "I don't want to go back to the beach. I want to go abroad." Lingam lost his young son and daughter, house and shop in the tsunamis that ravaged the coastline from north to south. His wife, a nurse at the Kalmunai hospital, must be thankful to have a job instead of being idle and in constant despair. It's the same loneliness one sees at another camp at Kanaganagar Maha Vidyalaya at Thambavali near Akkaraipattu where adults huddle in corners or sit under trees chatting or just staring at the trees or open space. "People are afraid there would be another tsunami on January 26," says J.H. Chaudrey, a camp inmate. That was on January 23. Along the coast in the Ampara district, the displaced - Sinhalese, Tamils or Muslims - are despondent, uncertain about the future and wearing a not-sure-what-will-happen-next look. On the other hand, walking into camps - whether inside schools or in open grounds, one sees children happily playing, laughing and eager to talk. That happiness could be a façade. Psychologists say there is a lot of trauma and fear bottled up and absent for the moment because of constant play, activity and chatting. Reconstruction of buildings and infrastructure may be the easy part in the Rebuilding Sri Lanka programme. Trying to bring some order into the lives of the victims would be harder. This is probably one of the reasons why many displaced people watch idly while Canadian soldiers and foreign workers operate bulldozers or clear boulders, without lifting a finger to help. In Indonesia, the government is hiring labour from displaced camps to clear rubble and for other work. This is a commendable effort as it keeps the displaced occupied - instead of worrying about the future - and also enables them to earn a living. Shouldn't that be the case here too? While the government and the private sector are focussed on the immediate needs of relief work and reconstruction, not enough attention is being paid to counselling of victims, particularly children and women as this is an unseen issue. Some agencies like UNICEF and the National Child Protection Authority (NCPA) are now bringing these issues to the fore but most of the funding is for the physical infrastructure. In camps all over, people are scared, worried and become agitated for the slightest thing. In one area in Kalmunai, residents ran away from their homes when they found that the well water had turned warm. Checked by experts, it was discovered that seawater had seeped in. It was no major crisis but it showed how jittery residents are. Where is the much talked about early warning system? You need one now … not six months later. Junaidu Umma squats inside a tent and scrapes coconut, preparing to make roti for an almsgiving for her two dead children. "We should have done it some weeks back but we didn't have the mental strength,” says her husband amidst rubble and flattened land at Arugam Bay, said to be amongst the best 20 surfing spots in the world. Dozens of hotels are sandwiched between small houses owned by fishermen in a Hikkaduwa-type town. The bay attracted some 1,500 to 2,000 foreigners and locals every week during the April-November season when the waves are at their best. Now it's a desolate zone, flattened by the tsunami that even tore into two, the 1,000 metre bridge that links the bay with Pottuvil town. Smart Canadian soldiers in camouflage uniforms operate motor-driven rubber dinghies that ferry residents and others to and fro across the lagoon. At the same time a team from the UK-based Levesley International is testing two ATERV (All Terrain Emergency Response Vehicle), amphibious vehicles. There are occasional shortages of food and other basic needs. But most of the displaced worry about the future and whether they could rebuild their lives. They don't have access to information and most women smile sadly or shrug their heads in despair when questioned by journalists. Every morning Adam Lebbe returns to the site of his flattened, beachside teashop at Maradamunai village near Kalmunai and stares at it all day long. "This place was full," he says in a voice choked with emotion as he talks about his dead wife and two children. Picking up the pieces, a few metres away, is 60-year old Adam Bawa. Unlike Lebbe who retires to his eldest son's house every evening, Bawa has lost everyone - wife and two sons - and his livelihood, a shop and boats. A kilometre away on the beach at Sainthamarathu, Mohamed Jaufer, owner of Sea Breeze restaurant reads a paper, occasionally scolding local politicians. "They never came here. Only the JVP came in teams and cleared the rubble." The JVP, seen by residents mostly in Muslim-dominated villages as good Samaritans, appear to have worked in many areas. Further southwards at Karaitivu, one of Kalmunai's biggest schools lies in a heap of rubble next to piles of stone and concrete pillars, once the region's hospital. Residents claim this area as the worst affected in Sri Lanka in terms of damage and loss of lives. Ampara had recorded the highest death toll in Sri Lanka. Unlike southern coastal towns like Galle, Matara and Hambantota which were battered by the tsunamis, Ampara town was untouched and in a way masks the real damage to the district. Life is normal in Ampara town and its immediate environs. But some 30 kilometres towards the coast, the scene is devastating. Says Mohamed Jaufer, a prominent resident in Pottuvil, "The politicians get together in Colombo and vow to work together. But when they visit these areas, they operate separately. Where's the unity?" Amongst this doom and gloom, a 30-metre sand dune directly between the sea and Pottuvil town rises like a magnificent wall and reminds one of the story of the boy who plugged a hole in a dyke in the Netherlands with his fingers when the water was threatening to flood the town. The Pottuvil sand dune protected many homes near the beach from the mighty tsunamis. Confusion
over relocation At Arugam Bay, Ayatul Mohamed Haniffa is determined to stay and rebuild his hotel and restaurant. "My father was a fisherman and I built this hotel from scratch. I won't leave this location under any circumstances," he says. At another camp, some women say they would leave their former homes if everyone else was going. The shift to new locations under the 100-200 metre ban on construction has raised many issues and dilemmas. For Mr. Ramakrishnan, his problem is finding land for re-location; Haniffa won't budge an inch for sentimental and business reasons; the more adventurous are ready to move out if new land is provided. The regulations are also vague. A week ago, Finance Minister Dr. Sarath Amunugama told a meeting of officials in Ampara that the 100 metre zone would apply across the island, a change from the earlier plan to have a 100 metre zone in the south and a 200 metre no-construction zone in the east which is flat land and more vulnerable. But few people, including SLMC leader Rauf Hakeem are aware of the changes. Concluding a meeting with local residents in Kalmunai, Hakeem told The Sunday Times last Sunday that there is lack of coordination in the relief work while the government was not consulting the people on their future. He was also surprised to learn about the change in the security zone, putting it down to the usual chaos. He was also concerned about the influx of INGOs (International NGOs). "If there were 50 INGOs earlier, now there must be at least 150 and no one knows what they do and whether they are registered," Mr. Hakeem said. |
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