Christmas will never be the same again
St. Sebastian’s Church rises from the rubble: People at Sunday mass on December 15. Pix by M.A. Pushpa Kumara
Heads bowed reverently or eyes focusing upward in fervent prayer, accompanied by beautiful singing with the poignant ‘Amens’ rising powerfully, skywards.
It is a Sunday morning and smartly-attired families have come in their numbers to celebrate the Sabbath. Restive children are taken for a quiet walk, the pews are packed and people overflow into the garden, some bringing their own foldable chairs, while there is a nip in the air as a chilly breeze blows by.
A preview of what Christmas Mass will be next Wednesday morning, with the numbers swelling much more.
On December 15, there is no sign of this church rising from the rubble, except a heavy Air Force presence, checks of bags and national identity cards and only the main gate allowing people to pass through.
It was on a Sunday just like this but grander, Easter Sunday April 21, that for many who had gathered at St. Sebastian’s Church, Katuwapitiya, their lives changed forever………and it is as the next most important day in the Christian calendar, Christmas with its strong message of hope and peace draws nigh that we go back not only to the church and the graveyard but also to each and every home we went before and a few more.
What is Christmas? Do we ponder on the true meaning of Christmas or is it just an excuse to eat, drink and make merry with kith, kin and friends who are like us? As a priest said a few weeks ago, yes, it’s a time of celebration of the birth of Jesus who spread the message of truth, love, hope and salvation, but do we give thought to the “deep sacrifices” by those around whom the nativity is enacted?
A mother’s sorrow: Only photos remain for Theresa
God who sent His only son to the world, knowing that Jesus would be crucified; Jesus who willingly came to the world to give of His life on the cross; Mary, His mother, who with much humility accepted the conception amidst the shame and turmoil it would create in her community because she was yet unmarried though betrothed; and Joseph for whom initially the “good news” that his betrothed had conceived without him having anything to do with it would have come as a thunderbolt turning his life upside down.
“Sacrifice,” is what is uppermost on our minds as we go from door-to-door of the bereaved and the injured of Katuwapitiya after standing before the 44 graves in the cemetery off Don David Mawatha, just one where the victims are buried. The simple wooden crosses we saw soon after that terrible day in April are now replaced by concrete crosses many with photos on them, watched over by two stone angels. Recent visits by family are obvious in the clay lamps at the graves, posies of flowers and little vases. A chapel is also taking shape in the cemetery.
“There will be no Christmas for us, next week or forever,” is the consensus among many of those we visit, who keep recalling the chilling events of that tragic day, while they quickly add that “they have not lost faith in God. We have no one else to turn to”.
Compensation has been provided by the government as well as the Roman Catholic Church which has also extended a monthly scholarship for children in families affected by the bomb. All of them speak with gratitude of how packets of cooked food and dry rations were brought by many people to their homes in the days following the blast.
Eight months after, however, there is a feeling that even the unaffected of Katuwapitiya and the world have forgotten them and moved on, leaving them to deal with their loss, sorrow and injuries all alone.
“Pissu hedenawa,” says S.D. Theresa Pieris who lost seven in her family, as sobs wrack her body. She recounts how life as a young wife and mother in an abusive relationship threw many challenges in her pathway which she overcame to set up her children comfortably.
Chandima’s daughter is no more -- but higher education institutes keep sending flyers
As we enter her home, a hugely enlarged photograph of her only daughter, Rashika Dilrukshi and her three children, Rasini Praveesha, Shalome Himaya and Shalon Sathishka, are on the table. They are no more as also one of her sons, Duleep Shantha Kumara, and his two children, Sajini Dulakshi and Vimukthi Tharindu. Her daughter-in-law, Anusha, who lives next door, was also injured in the blast. Her dead son was the owner of a wadu-weda (wood) workshop and about 25 people working under him also lost their livelihood.
“Hithahada ganna hadanawa,” she weeps clutching more photos of her dead children and grandchildren. Two counsellors visit her regularly. The details are stark – her daughter’s husband comes home in the morning after duty as a security officer and so her daughter prepared string hoppers and dhal that Sunday and told her to make a pol-sambol. As the family had not eaten poranu bread in a while because the bakeries were closed for the Aluth Avuruddha, her grandchildren called their father and asked him to bring bread. Then her daughter hurried the children off to church….that was the last Theresa saw of them alive.
Christmas will never be the same for Shiyama Mala who lost two of her daughters, Subhashini (16) and Dewmini (13). Her youngest daughter, Anya, clings to her in the porch of their humble lean-to shack, as Shiyama says: “Jeevithe gevila yanawa. Mokuth karanna hithenne ne. Podi gava-lenak vitharak hadanawa.” (My life is wasting away. I can’t seem to do anything. I will only have a small crib this Christmas.)
Hitiyanang Loku Duwa O/L karala evari, she laments, mama merena thaak mata amathaka venne ne. (If my daughter were alive she would have sat the O/L. I can’t forget them till I die)
It is to another home where not only the two daughters but also the breadwinner has died that we go with heavy hearts to find the door closed, the teenage girls’ school shoes still on the rack outside and two letters from higher education institutes on the floor.
Chandima Niranjali’s elder daughter, Nethmi (16), who was due to sit the O/L examination this December succumbed in the blast along with her younger daughter, Vishmi (14) and her husband Sampath Wickramaratne.
We call her to find out whether she has gone to church this Sunday and she tells us that she has gone far away from home to Peradeniya to still her mind.
“I will never have another Christmas,” says Chandima who suffered serious head injuries and has to go to the hospital often at great cost hiring vehicles, adding that for her Christmas ended last year. “A lot of people have forgotten the trauma we have undergone. Apita vitharai denenne.”
“Jeevithe than bohoma saralai. Mata maha loku target ekak ne,” she sighs. (My life is very simple now. I don’t have any big target now.)
In memory of loved ones: Simple wooden crosses replaced by concrete ones
Chandima and Theresa’s daughter-in-law, Anusha, are the two women in Katuwapitiya who have to face life without their whole families. While getting injured, they have lost their husbands and their two children, with the bomb shattering their dreams and hopes for the future.
“Mata uruma vechcha de,” says Chandima, adding that she has to make up her mind and the only way to galaweema (salvation) is through God.
The walk through Katuwapitiya also brings us to the home of the three children whose parents, Dr. Sarath Fernando and Wales Indira, and paternal grandmother were killed. While the older daughter is in China studying medicine, the two boys are here and a relative says how difficult it is to meet the challenges of daily living.
Bills such as electricity and water have to be met monthly and the basic food bill is sky-high, the relative points out, adding that the full responsibility of looking after the three children is heavily on the shoulders of their ageing maternal grandmother.
There are five families where both parents have died in the bomb blast, we learn.
Malith and Roshica may be older, but the loss of their parents, Rohan and Shanthi Wimanna, is very hard to bear. Usually, in this Catholic town, Christmas is a big event. Nostalgia grips Roshica as she tells us how her mother would tenderly set up the crib and string up coloured bulbs in their home, while their father would hire a vehicle and take them shopping the whole day.
“There will be no Christmas,” she says wistfully, as in another home there has been a major change with the breadwinner gone.
Sudeera Fernando was seated in a folding chair, while his wife Geetha Antoinette was standing behind him when the blast shook the church. Sudeera died of massive head injuries and Geetha was injured badly in her thighs, luckily without fractures. With three children between 16 and 10 years to bring up, Geetha now has to take on the role of provider.
There is heartache and sorrow for a good husband and father who is dead. With stoic resignation, offering everything to God, Geetha has started a small self-employment project, a plant nursery to feed and clothe her family.
Full healing of their physical injuries, meanwhile, will take a long while for neighbours Samali Fernando and Mary Lalani Wettasinghe.
Samali whose skull shattered causing severe head injuries was paralysed on one side when we last saw her but now she can walk again and is trying very hard to make her “heavy” hand work. “I still have a hole in my skull,” she tells us, adding that she would have to wait some time to get that closed.
Mary, meanwhile, is in pain for there are six “yakada bola” from the bomb that the doctors are unable to extricate from her armpit and adjacent area.
For numerous families in Katuwapitiya, many loved ones will not be home for Christmas 2019. Emptiness engulfs these families and fond memories make the tears flow, with those who are no more being only in their hearts.
As Christians across Sri Lanka celebrate the birth of Baby Jesus, please spare a thought for those who lost their loved ones on April 21 and whisper a prayer to make them strong to face a future that does not seem too bright.