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Our Agony
By Kumudini Hettiarachchi
Galle: Slowly and painfully, the men, women and children here, like the survivors in all areas hit by last Sunday’s tsunami are picking up the pieces of their shattered lives. Some are burying the dead, while others are running from hospital ward to morgue, from beach to mass burial site and from temples to schools that have been turned into temporary shelters for the millions of homeless.

Weeping and wailing, they are searching and seeking loved ones they may never find. For the angry sea has been no respecter of age or colour as it has also been no discriminator against race or creed. Yes, the young and the old, the rich and the poor, foreigners and locals have all been caught up in the uncontrolled fury of the mighty sea that crashed onto land not only crushing homes, furniture and vehicles but also killing, battering and bruising anyone within its reach.The most vulnerable have been children and women.

"Aney mage lamayava hoyala denna," cries Seetha Kodithuwakku, her body wracked by sobs. Stretched out on a chair at the Karapitiya Hospital in Galle she keeps repeating the plea to find her eight-year-old daughter, Dilani, who has been missing since the sea came into land last Sunday morning.

By Seetha's side is her 14-year-old daughter, attempting to console her, and her elderly mother sprawled on a bed close by. "We heard a terrible roar and thought there was a big quarrel among our neighbours," says Seetha who lives on the beach at Habaraduwa. The family runs a small printing shop.

They stepped out of their homes, only to be assailed by a wall of water. Buffeted around, the family managed to scramble on to a roof. "I was helping my ailing mother and Dilani was with me. Then the roof collapsed and we were flung into the water again. We held on to whatever we could but I saw Dilani being swept away," laments Seetha.

That was the last the family saw of their youngest daughter. Her story and all those we heard in Galle and its environs though tragically similar are pathetically traumatic. The wards are overflowing, with the tsunami victims being identified by a small plaster on their foreheads. So is the morgue, with bodies, most unidentified, piled high.

Going along Galle Road last Tuesday, there was nothing but devastation from Payagala. The Payagala railway station at the curve of the road is no more. Some parts of Galle Road itself seemed like a remote village track, not the main artery that joins Colombo to Galle. No houses, only crumbling walls and masses of debris. Where once there had been homes now only stacks of planks were left. Cars, buses and vans lay overturned. Even where the railtrack is on the left of Galle Road there were boats lying on the sleepers and along the road.

A giant hand seemed to have grabbed the railtrack, pulled it out and flung it down, a mangled mess. But the sea that had turned into a merciless monster taking thousands in its deadly embrace just two days before, was serene and tranquil.

In Beruwela, sits a forlorn little boy on the railtrack. He and his family have spent the night on a mat spread out there and are about to boil some water for a cup of plain tea. Bare-bodied Sudath, around five years old, and his family have fled their home because the sea rushed inland.

From Aluthgama onwards, the smell of death is all pervasive. The grisly scene at Seenigama where lies the wreckage of the train is indescribable. Bodies, torn clothes, slippers and bags lie strewn among the compartments flung on their side. Near the railtrack, are dumped bags full of clothes, a comb sticking out, a frilly, party dress of a child and a red schoolbag with the picture of a kitten. Just a little away, soldiers with their faces masked, armed with polythene bags and stretchers, are digging and pulling out the decomposing remains of the passengers who were heading down south on that fateful day. Anxious relatives cry silently hoping against hope that their loved ones would not be there.

"My sister was on that train," says Jagath Keerthi from Tangalle, while Inoka Manoja from Borella runs up and down the track looking for her brother-in-law. In Maha Modera, Anura Shantha has found his little girl who would have been three years old on January 1. A corporal serving in Weli Oya, he rushed back to his home in Pinkanda, Hikkaduwa, when he heard of the massive wave.

With a few male relatives, he has come to bury his daughter and place a branch with a cluster of white temple flowers on her grave. "My wife was carrying her when the wave hit our home. They were swirled and flung around violently. The child was washed away from her grip. She held on to a tree. Later our daughter was found atop a coconut tree," Anura sighs.

In a temple not far away, Chathurika, 10, is still in shock. "I was sleeping and my sister woke me up and told me, 'Muda galanawa'. We all ran out and clung to whatever we could. The wave came, went back and came again."

Some aiyyas saved her and took her to higher ground and later to the temple. There she found her father and a few other family members. In the evening, they found the bodies of her mother and seven-year-old brother. They are still looking for her elder and younger sisters.

Despair and desperation - this is the 'face' of Sri Lanka. Lives in shambles. Loved ones dead. No food, no water, no clothes, no homes, no jobs and no future. Where do you begin to tell their stories and where do you end. No one knows.

Now is the time for all of us to continue the spontaneous outpouring of assistance and support the men, women and children in the coastal areas to rebuild their shattered and battered lives.

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