After
tsunami no sun rise yet for the east
NAVALADY: It is exactly a month since Thiagarajah Anna Mary returned
from Sunday morning mass and was preparing for her family a breakfast
of 'pittu' when the dreaded tsunami struck, sweeping the whole family
off their feet. Soon, the waves were hitting the eastern Batticaloa
town almost two kilometres from her seaside home.
Situated
also by a lagoon that bypasses the town from under a bridge, there
was water everywhere. Anna Mary clung on to her child, and to the
trunk of a tree. The waters receded, almost as swiftly as they came
out of the sea, but within those few fateful minutes she had lost
her son, her daughter and her father.
A
familiar story recounted in two-thirds of Sri Lanka's coastal areas
where officially a 32,000 people - according to estimates some 40,000
-- lost their lives. But each story is a poignant reminder of the
agony that is being endured still in the minds of the thousands
who survived the nation's worst natural disaster.
Anna
Mary, now in a refugee camp at a primary school cannot complete
her story. When asked one final question: "Will you go back
to where you were"? She just shakes her head to indicate a
'No'.
Her
little village in the popular beach of Kallady and the nearby Navalady
is non-existent. A typically coastal village of mostly fisher folk
families, Navalady lost half its population of 2,000 in less than
five minutes. An eyewitness who climbed atop a coconut tree as he
saw the giant tidal wave approach, "like big black smoke",
says it was the third wave that was the killer.
A
month later, all that remains is the debris. Nothing, but a sturdier
built Hindu kovil stands, broken in parts, its chariot nearby. In
the refugee camps, fear remains the key.
For
the many thousands of survivors like Anna Mary, there is an urgent
need for counselling to help them deal with their fear and trauma.
But there is a dearth of trained counsellors locally and the government
is sceptical about using foreign counsellors given the cultural
disparities.
A
Samurdhi worker, a government official attached to the poverty reduction
programme says people have died even after the tsunami. He relates
how a 58-year-old woman died after drinking the contents of a young
coconut from a beachside tree that was struck by the tsunami.
Aid
workers say the sea is contaminated. They don't eat fish anymore,
not just because the fish may have nibbled on floating corpses.
Batticaloa's Coroner Baptist Fernando says he had to issue 1,800
death certificates from the town and immediate surrounding areas,
including Navalady alone. Another 486 bodies were unidentified.
Then, he says " there are the cases of post-tsunami victims
who have died of pneumonia by drinking black sea water."
He
cites the example of five people from Kalkudah, further north who
were sent to Polonnaruwa in the interior for treatment after the
tsunami. They died after returning from hospital.
This
phenomenon has given rise to concern. At the town's pubs, the talk
is whether this was a natural disaster or if it was a man-made one.
An expatriate believes it is the latter. He goes on to say that
it could have been an undersea test that went wrong and accused
a super-power of being behind it.
He
gives detailed accounts of how airlines lost navigation data on
December 26 and likens what happened to ' the Bermuda triangle ',
and others agree with him. They demand that bodies be exhumed and
be tested to check for radiation or suspicious chemicals.
Coroner
Fernando says he found no evidence of radiation in any of the bodies
when he performed post-mortems, but admits that none of the bodies,
or samples of the ' black water ', which he says, killed even tsunami
survivors, were sent for testing.
Given
the need to quickly issue death certificates so that families can
bury or cremate the dead, the job of the Coroner would have been,
at best, a rushed job. To cope with the demand, emergency death
certificates were issued. The cause of death was given simply as:
"Died due to drowning (sic) in the Tsunami Tidal Wave water
which occurred on 26-12-2004 at 9 a.m. in the Eastern Coast ".
A
senior policeman agrees that there are grounds to exhume some of
the bodies. " While the relief measures must be looked into,
so too", he says "must they call in the Government Analysts
to test these waters".
Robin,
a former Motor Traffic examiner and volunteer aid worker however
is more concerned about the immediate priorities of tending to the
thousands of displaced still lingering in the refugee camps. He
was very critical of the Government's lacklustre approach to relief
work.
He
praised the role of Buddhist monks and majority Sinhalese from neighbouring
areas who came to the assistance of the beleaguered Batticaloa folk
despite the enmity, an offshoot of the twenty-year-old separatist
rebellion in the region.
"But
the Government is not to be seen", he laments and goes on to
lash out at the fact that Colombo has appointed an insignificant
Deputy Minister from the north-western coast -- the other side of
the island - to be in charge of relief operations. "All he
does is come and ask if everything is alright, and then adjourn
for the night to Polonnaruwa, three hours from here", he says.
There
is some truth in what Robin says. There is no sign of any Government
action in this eastern sector of the country. Ray de Mel, a Colombo-based
tea director who is in the area with some businessmen from the capital
to see for themselves the devastation, also blames Colombo's elitist
Presidential committees for not reaching out. Ahmed Moulana, a tour
operator says the Government has lost an opportunity to win the
hearts and minds of the minority Tamils.
In
Kalkudah and Pasikudah, north of Batticaloa, the devastation is
similar. Except that not many residents were affected because the
areas are tourist destinations. Those who died were some tourists
and small-time kiosk and boutique employees catering to the tourists.
A
soldier when asked for directions, points the way, and says, sarcastically
thinking another group of sightseers has arrived, "over there,
but there is nothing to see".
All
that remains of the Sun Tan Hotel, the first of the hotels to spring
up when the area was identified as a hot tourist spot 35 years ago,
is the rubble. New tributaries have sliced through from the sea
into land, and the sea, which stretches at ankle height for a mile,
is now no more. The whole landscape has changed.
A
lone Japanese worker is seen yanking out some twisted weeds, and
a caterpillar bulldozer is moving some earth nearby. That is about
all the clearing up that can be seen.
At
this rate, it will be quite some time before these two beach resorts
are rebuilt and are operating again. That would summarise a lot
of what is happening or not happening, in the eastern province of
Sri Lanka. Quite in contrast to the southwest coast which is more
accessible to the powers-that-be where there is visible activity.
In Colombo, Government Ministers put up a brave front expressing
confidence that relief work was going well. But, sad to say, that
is far from the ground-reality. |