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that launched a sea of sympathy He is 10-year-old Asitha Rukshan Fernando of Koralawella, Moratuwa. The tragedy he and his family face after the giant waves engulfed the coastal areas of the country epitomizes not only the devastation of the tsunami but also the nothing-much-is-happening feeling that is persistently becoming apparent six weeks after, in this beleaguered country. Asitha left motherless by the tsunami, is living with relatives. Now he, his sister and his father are homeless. Luckily his elder sister is married and lives with her infant inland, away from the sea. When The Sunday Times met Asitha last week, he had returned in a van with his cousin from Weera Puran Appu Vidyalaya in Moratuwa where he is in the scholarship class, Grade 5. Their two pairs of shoes had been kicked off near the door. They had just finished their lunch of rice, dhal and karola. Taken under the wing of his mama (mother's brother), he has been living here along with mama's family of wife and two sons and achchi. "He keeps asking for his mother and cannot understand why she had to die," says achchi, patting him on the shoulder. Yes, he used to nestle close to his mother at night and hug her tightly. Now Asitha finds comfort by huddling near his grandmother to ward off the nightmares. For Asitha and his family, December 26 dawned like any other. They had just had their breakfast, some seeni sambol buns that his mother had bought from the kade, when they heard of muda goda galanawa. They thought they were safe, because they live on the "right" side of both the railtrack and new Galle Road. His father, Ivan, along with a few others took to the road to direct motorists away from the water. Knowing that everyone in the vicinity of their home, his mother Ranjini's sisters were safe, they hurriedly went to Egoda Uyana, where her younger sister lived very close to the sea. Family bonds are strong among the fisherfolk of Koralawella. It is painful for Asitha to think back. His beautiful innocent eyes fill with unshed tears. His lips quiver, tremble. He has to be brave, he feels. He cannot, should not cry in front of strangers, for after all he is a boy, even though he misses his mother so much. "Eka paattama gehewwa," he mumbles, momentarily unable to express himself. Tiny beads of sweat line his upper lip as he fights back his tears and tries very hard to be a man, this mere boy. "We were inside my aunt's house and went out to see men catching fish. Wathura hugak passata giya. Eka paattama muhuda evilla piruna. Eka pattama issuna. Pirila wetata gehewwa eka pattama," he says reliving the horror of December 26. All the people ran to the new road and so did he. An akka dragged him as she ran. "Mama andanda giye." Later his family found him and took him to his mama's home and he kept asking his grandmother whether his mother would have eaten. He was under the impression that she was injured and no one had the heart to tell him the stark truth that as of December 26 he had no mother. She had been dragged along by the ferocious waves and wedged under a heavy cabinet. As he persisted in his queries, always questioning where his mother was and wanting, nay yearning to see her beloved face again, they simply couldn't bury her without showing Asitha his mother one last time, says his aunt, M. Kamani Fernando who is looking after him now. That day he broke down and that was the photograph that foreign agencies picked up and sent out to the world. However, there has been little succour for this family. "We received only Rs. 15,000 to bury my wife," says Ivan Fernando, 45. "We have no home, I have no job, my family is scattered and my wife dead." For him the memories come flooding back. He was a young lad in his twenties and was working as a salesman at the co-operative in Moratuwa when pretty Ranjini still in her teens used to come there to buy stuff for her family. They fell in love and married. Soon after, their first daughter, Ashani, was born and five years later Ayesha. This was also the time Ivan decided to quit his co-op job, which was bringing him only Rs. 308 a month and answer the call of the sea. He took to the deevara rassawa. However, with a young family, life was taking a toll on them. That was when Ranjini decided to go in search of what the Middle East had to offer, leaving her two little daughters to be looked after by her sisters. Two years in Jordan, then another two in Saudi Arabia. When she returned they moved from relatives' houses to a tiny, rented out plank shack. "The money Ranjini brought back was spent kannata bonnata," says Ivan. Little Asitha was born around this time and Ranjini was overjoyed. By this time Ivan had acquired a bicycle and was hawking fish. Yes, he takes a drink, no not kasippu but gal. His wife would not allow him to do it. Yes, he nods once again with a regretful smile, he used to shout at her if there was no lunu ambul in his food. But she was the bedrock of the family. Life was routine - they did not have much money but they managed. She was a good mother. Each day she herself would put Asitha into the school van. She attended to all his schoolwork. She also made sure that their second daughter went to Sr. Jacintha at the convent close by to be taught how to be independent. She was extra careful of their second daughter because something is wrong with her. "She couldn't study and Ranjini got Sister to teach her a little bit," says Ivan. Now the tsunami has changed this family's destiny forever. Without their mother, they are like a rudderless ship being buffeted about by the troubles of life. Their plank home too had filled up with water and everything was destroyed. This family has now been told by the landlord to leave the house. "Asarana wela inne," sighs Ivan, while Asitha adds sadly, "Eke eke evva kalpana wenawa". What
of the future? Will relatives, who themselves are struggling to
eke out a living be able to give food and shelter to these motherless
children forever? |
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