Their circle of life

By Kumudini Hettiarachchi

But Muththa Rajaratnam smiles as she greets us and tells her children to roll out the blue mats donated by UNICEF for us to sit on. There are no chairs, tables or beds in the home she shares with her five children, ranging in age from two years to 13.

"At least now we have a roof over our heads, a home to call our own," says Muththa who has been an 'internally displaced person' living in one welfare centre or another for the past nine years. But that is changed now. She is the owner of home No. 245, tiny may be, on 40 perches of land, under a housing scheme sponsored by the government for the displaced in Tharanikulam, Sundarapuram and Maravankulam in the Vavuniya division.

The first batch of 212 families, consisting of 1,415 men, women and children, has already been settled in their homes in Tharanikulam. It has cost the government Rs. 150,000 to relocate each family. There are more than 20,000 people displaced by the north-east war in cramped welfare centres in Vavuniya. Muththa's husband is not at home today, for he has gone to Sundarapuram to find work as a labourer as the second housing scheme is being put up there.

As dozens and dozens of flies settle everywhere including on the heads and smut-smeared faces of her children, Muththa explains how they fled Omanthai in 1992, sought shelter in a kovil in Puttur, then went to Mullikulam in 1994 and finally ended up in the Punththottam welfare centre in Vavuniya in 1998.

Now they are away from that environment, which is so bad for the children, she says, adding that in the welfare centres, the men take kasippu and indulge in other vices and set a bad example.

Her husband still takes 'adi' and there is 'pudi' in the evening. She concedes that most evenings she is assaulted. The consolation is that there is space for her and the children here, and she plans to tend her own little home garden with the mango, jak, coconut and banana saplings given by the government. 

To thank God for these blessings, a small section of the single bedroom has been demarcated with two of her best sarees as a shrine for the Hindu gods they worship.

Being away from the town, at the moment jobs may be scarce for the menfolk, but it is not so for M. Rajaseker, 50. He has set up his own enterprise — Swarna Salon with a mirror, a pair of scissors, a self-made high chair for children and lots of large posters of Hindi film stars plastered to the wooden walls. When he was living in the welfare centre close to the town, he had helped out at building sites, but now he has turned barber, his traditional job. 

"I like it here better, because I own the land. I keep my salon open from 6 in the morning till about 6 in the evening and am able to earn about Rs. 125 a day," he says. 

Next door, a transistor blasts out music, while the whole family is involved in digging the muddy soil and building a kitchen next to their home. Natyapan Ramasamy, 59, is directing operations, while the two older children carry the soil to the 'site'. 

Mother has gone to Vavuniya to get a pass as she has some work in Colombo, says 12-year-old Thinesha. "I too worked in a house in Naaththandiya, looking after the baby of a big policeman," says Thinesha bringing out a photo album proudly. She was given a lot of nice clothes and treated well. But the 'Loku Mahaththaya' and family were going to Ampara, and they dropped her back home.

They gave me only Rs. 500, says Ramasamy.

Earlier the family was living in Kilinochchi, when they were bombed out of home and hearth. Then it was life at this camp or that. "Though there is only a little space in our home, it's our own," says Ramasamy.

Thurairasa Shanmugathasan, 34, is in his shop selling a coke to a small boy when we arrive there. He has anything and everything - from onions and potato to condiments and Fanta, even small packets of peas. Bottles with bright pink and green sweets and beedi line the small table he uses as his counter. 

A kachcheri official explains that the area is still under development. A new two-storey building will house the community hall and also a Montessori for the smaller children. The others have got admission to larger schools in the vicinity. Arrangements have also been made for a mobile medical clinic to visit Tharanikulam, he says.

There are eight dug wells and seven tube wells for the people. Toilets have been built, there is a network of roads and the people are being encouraged to have their own home gardens, with saplings being provided by the government, he adds. There are still a few hardships, but they are glad to be here, away from the congestion and vice of the welfare centres, is the unanimous verdict of the men, women and children in Tharanikulam.

A home too far

"We have been asked, but if the houses given by the government are far away, then we won't go. There will be transport problems, no schooling for our children and the hospital too would be far away. There will also be no jobs in an area like Tharanikulam," says M. Maheswari, 29, who is living in the Nelumkulam camp, off the Mannar Road.

For her, her husband and four children, ranging from three years to 11, it has been a nomadic life since 1996. Her two younger children have even been born in camps. 

If the houses being promised by the government are closer to the town, then they would consider moving out of the camp. "Then at least we would have work as labourers — helping out the farmers in the area and loading sand onto lorries. Farmers pay the men about Rs. 200 a day and the women Rs. 100, whenever there is work," she explains.

Twenty-five-year-old Gnana Mala has two children who are seven and one-and-a-half years old. Whenever she accompanies her husband to work as a labourer or to cut firewood, she leaves her children with their grandmother. 

"Sometimes most children at the camp don't go to school. Their parents take them along to their workplace, as there is no one to look after them," she says.

Surrounded mostly by the women of the camp, with the children looking at the camera, we discuss the day-to-day troubles they are faced with. All of them get out of the hovels they call home, because each family has just a 10'x 20' room, where everything is done — cooking , washing, eating and sleeping. Only a plastic sheet divides the space of each family. 

The women complain about army harassment at checkpoints over the pass system in force in Vavuniya. 

"My husband was assaulted recently at a checkpoint. They said he was an LTTE supporter," says Mala.

The other issue that worries the womenfolk is the "environment" at the camp. Vice comes in many forms — illicit alcohol, drugs and the general conditions in the evening after the men have had a few "shots". 

"It's bad for the children," says S. Keeda (20), while the others nod in unison and the men look away sheepishly. 

Yes, these hapless 'internally displaced persons' are caught up in a vicious circle not of their making.

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