Going
back home to nothing
By Frances Bulathsinghala
Her bags are packed with all the essentials she thinks
a displaced family should have and which can be carried by hand
350 miles from Colombo. She double checks the bags crammed with
dhal, rice, packets of milk and daily essentials.
Her
destination - Mullaitivu is no more a town. With most of the debris
cleared it is a vast expanse of bare land. For the Colombo-residing
Kamalini Selvarajan who has not been to her former hometown- which
most of her relatives vacated 20 years ago with the beginning of
the war-the aftermath of the December 26 tsunami horror is a bigger
nightmare than the ethnic conflict.
"It
took me three days to locate them," she says standing at the
LTTE checkpoint in Pulliyankulam waiting for a bus to take her back.
Many others who venture out to visit their friends and relatives
living in this war cocooned land that now finds itself mangled by
the sea, are not so lucky as Kamalini.
Sixty-year-old
Ramajan who once owned some farm lands in the Mullaitivu region
has spent two days in futile search of some cousins whose fate he
never really knows and which only the mass graves in the region
will reveal.
Temporary
resettlement measures are being taken by the LTTE, which controls
the region, following the reopening of the schools."Human skeletons
are visible if you look closely," a dumbstruck visitor is heard
to mutter as the region reels from the overwhelming number of bodies,
covered by high mounds of sand.
In
Nedunkerni a memorial is being planned over the mass graves where
over tens of thousands of those who perished in the tsunami have
been buried. "This is the only thing we can do to preserve
their memory," says a young boy, shovel in hand who is seen
clearing up for the proposed monument. It is hard to differentiate
between LTTE cadres and young Tamil men who have volunteered for
cleaning up operations. All these people have suffered, first from
a needless war and secondly from an unexplained decree of nature.
In
Mulliyawallai, four kilometres from the sea-wrecked Mullaitivu people
who survived, but lost everything else have their own stories to
tell. Forty-year-old Bavani who lost three generations of her family
to the wrath of the sea is one of the 400 people in the Vidyananda
College refugee camp in Mulliyawallai, one of the few small towns
in the LTTE-controlled regions which was not battered by the furious
waves.
"Forty
people, my family lost forty people," repeats another old woman,
her eyes getting a far away look. She talks to us but her statements
seem to be addressed to the distant walls of infinity. She says
with the same blank expression on her face that she escaped because
she was visiting friends.
And
as the youngest children play on oblivious to the thorny future
that awaits them, the old look on, defenceless against a tomorrow
that offers them little hope. |