Tears from the East

By N. Dilshath Banu

A crowded narrow corridor, sandwiched between rows of shelters, each separated by tin and wood partitions -- this is where the daily life of about 50 people unfolds. The adults try to focus on somehow keeping the home fires burning while the children unaware of their problems play “hide and seek” in this small space.

Children playing outside the camp in Kalmunai.

The daily difficulties are brought home to me as I watch A.M. Arusiya, a 48-year-old mother of three, rush out her dwelling, on hearing the voice of a fish vendor. But with no money to make her purchase, within a few minutes, she’s back empty handed.“I couldn’t pay the fishmonger the last five times, and this time he scolded me and walked away refusing to sell any fish without getting his money. If the tsunami had never occurred…” she mutters, walking into her hut.

It is two years since the tsunami hit this village on the East Coast with terrifying force and for Arusiya, there is every reason for being bitter at her plight. Living in a refugee camp in Periyanilavanai, a village in Kalmunai, the worst affected Division of the Amapara District, life has been desperately hard. During the initial stages when a wave of sympathy saw relief pouring in to the country, the East Coast commanded attention, as it was the worst affected region. However, it didn’t take long for clashing opinions on tsunami recovery and rebuilding in the north and the east to emerge, a serious impediment to the rehabilitation process.

Apart from the political differences, lack of coordination among the International and local non-governmental organisations, coupled with lack of land availability, escalating prices of building materials and labour cost have in turn hindered the co-financing system, a programme to rebuild houses for tsunami victims.

And so, two years on, many tsunami victims of the East Coast are waiting in their “temporary shelters” hoping that someday they could move to their own houses. Some of the fortunate people who were able to get a portion of their money were able to see thecolumns of the houses being built, but the only progress the majority have seen is the foundation of their houses being laid.

Arusiya and her family

“We were in a cramped camp for a long time, and we protested that we needed permanent houses. After many protests, this is what we got,” said Arusiya, pointing to the temporary shelter. “My husband used to be a fisherman, but after we lost our two-year-old child, he never wants to go to sea again. We borrow money from other vendors. All of us in this camp do. But now the vendors don’t like lending to us because we cannot pay back soon enough.”

Seated on a narrow veranda, 60-year-old Adambava Bebi , is busily wrapping beedi leaves. “I was able to somehow get the raw material from India and started this business to earn some money for myself without bothering the children who were also affected by the tsunami.

For every 1000 beedi sticks, Adambava Bebi earns Rs. 120 and if she’s lucky, more than Rs 200. Most of the time, she spends the money on buying things for her grandchildren’s schooling. They also live with her in the same shelter.

Adambava Bebi busy wrapping beedi leaves

Her story is a familiar one. “I was living with my extended family about 65 metres from the sea. It took 10 years of hard labour for my son to build a better house for the whole family. The tsunami took 35 people from my family. We also didn’t recover anything that was washed away from the house. Today, I don’t have money even to buy a mosquito net,” she says sadly.

A recent outbreak of chikungunya flu had affected many in the camp and only one organisation had responded to their plea for mosquito nets.

Forty km north of Kalmunai, Payaskaran Premila, 32, a pregnant mother moves out of a common toilet with her two-year-old daughter and walks barefoot along the sandy road to her hamlet in the far corner of remote Thiraimadu, a tsunami resettlement village in Batticaloa District, where 367 families and 1067 people have been settled.Though the Thiraimadu resettlement scheme is established in a spacious area, each small shelter houses three families with nearly 12 people or more. Inside the shelter, the stench of wet clothes assails us. There are piles of clothes, books and kitchen utensils stacked on top of each other, leaving hardly any space to sleep. The tin walls and roofs are corroded.

“These days with the heavy rains the water floods in. We have to dry our clothes and other items very often. It’s difficult to do so with so many people living in one shelter. But our house is still under construction and because of the high prices of bricks, sand and other building material and the labour cost the progress has been slow. Sometimes, we work along with the labourers to ensure that the work is being done. But the government is not releasing the money if the initial stages are not completed and NGOs are not willing to pay more than they pledged,” said Premila.

Premila and many others in the Thiraimadu resettlement village as well as tsunami victims in the Eastern Province, are undergoing the same problem- their houses are being built for nearly two years, yet the construction has not reached the roof level. There are others who lived within the buffer zone prior to the tsunami who have not even been allocated land to build their homes.

“After the tsunami, we got many relief items, even from the South. Everyone seemed eager to help rebuild our country. Everyone was concerned about our suffering till last year. This year, our suffering seems to be invisible to them,” sighed Premila.

Far away from Premila’s hut, a lorry carrying men, women and children, who appeared to be traumatized catches the eyes of some tsunami refugees.“These people are Vakarai refugees,” said these tsunami victims in unison.

The plight of the tsunami victims in the East appears to have been overshadowed by the distress faced by the fleeing refugees from Vakarai and the tense security situation there.