The Boxing and Poya Day tsunami, a name unfamiliar to many in Sri Lanka then, wreaked havoc in the lives of thousands and left a trail of death and destruction in its wake on December 26, 2004.

Believed to be the ‘deadliest’ tsunami in history, being set off by a 9.1-magnitude quake off the northern tip of Sumatra, Indonesia, it took the lives of more than 230,000 men, women and children across 15 countries. In Sri Lanka, more than 30,000 people were dead, almost a million were displaced and around 150,000 people lost their primary source of livelihood.

Twenty years on (December 26, 2004-December 26, 2024), the horror of the tsunami has receded into the deep recesses of many people’s minds.

However, what of the survivor families with close kith and kin who died or are still missing in the tsunami?

For the ‘PLUS’, the features section of the Sunday Times, it is a much-cherished annual visit like a family re-union, to both the homes of Asitha Fernando in Koralawella and Latha Wanniarachchi of Somadevi Place, Kirullapone, whose little one, Hiruni Tharushika, is still missing.

In these past 20 years, we have hugged them close, sat with them as they wept, supported them in whatever way we could, in the case of Asitha mobilising public assistance in cash and kind and in Latha’s case urging people to respond if they had seen Hiruni after the tsunami. We have been by their side while they made a valiant effort to “survive”.

Each year, come December, they know we would visit and welcome us into their homes.

It was Asitha’s face that launched a tidal wave of sympathy, support and funds from all over the world for tsunami survivors. It became the symbol or the “face” of the tsunami, portraying the heartbreak and anguish of this natural disaster.

Even though more than 100 publications flashed his tear-streaked face at his mother Ranjani’s funeral, across the world, it was the Sunday Times which went in search of this nine-year-old and put a name to the face, helping to channel aid to him from generous people. We found Asitha with the help of Sr. Jacintha Silva of the Sisters of Charity, Jesus and Mary from a convent close to his home.

Asitha had been with his mother in a relative’s home, when the tsunami struck and his mother urged him to run. He did, away from the sea and survived. Amma had been thrashed around and dragged along by the ferocious waves and wedged under a heavy timber cabinet, meeting a watery death.

Tragically, a little over a year, later on January 4, 2006, when Ivan, his father who was a fisherman was running around to collect a little money for Ranjani’s alms-giving, he fell off the train and died, leaving Asitha orphaned.

Stepping into the shoes of both Thaththa and Amma, Asitha’s eldest sister Ashani, who had a young family of her own and was barely eking out a living with her husband, took on the task of looking after both her younger sister, Ruwangika (Bunty) who has special needs and younger brother.

Now, 29-year-old Asitha has a family of his own – wife Shashinika (28); Ayesh Shashmika (12) and Venush Manudam (6). They live in a rented home, squashed in a warren-like lane in Koralawella.

Employed as a painter and polisher in a lee-badu weda pola (furniture shop) earning Rs. 2,800 each day he works, he is bent on finding a little home away from this environment to bring up his sons.

He and his wife talk with much gratitude of “all” the help they have received after the Sunday Times published his poignant tale – books, a red bicycle, food, clothing and toys as a child and also a house and even recently a second-hand car.

“My elder sister looked after me and I am what I am today because of her. She is still looking after Bunty (34) and is heavily burdened. So I will never tell her to leave that house,” says Asitha, the boy who has grown up, accepting with equanimity the vicissitudes of life, to be a young man with strong values.

He had told the kind donor of the car of his plight, sought his approval to sell it and place the money in a fixed deposit to be used to buy a tiny place of their own, not too far from the children’s school and his workplace. In their current home, the rent has been upped even though the facilities are minimal and the roof leaks heavily.

“We need two-three perches with a podi geyak (small house), just a tiny room, bathroom and kitchen,” he says, assuring that he can use his shramaya to expand it.

The sons are doing well, assures Shashinika, the older being “thanpath” (calm) enjoying mathematics and chess in school, regrettably the latter classes being stopped recently, while the second is a bit of a “chandiya”, (naughty) who loves environmental studies. Ayesh is yearning for a computer, which the couple cannot afford.

Our conversation drifts to the tsunami and the tears come, crumpling up Asitha’s face and bringing back memories of that first photo.

Looking at some faded photos of his parents, he says he wants to give a kaema welak to 15 men and women at the ‘Amma Thaththa Nivasaya’ at Egoda Uyana, with a gift of a sarong and a piece of soap to each man and a cheeththey (cloth) and a piece of soap to each woman in memory of his beloved parents. “We don’t have the wherewithal to give a full set of clothes to each,” says Asitha sadly.

Our second visit is to Latha in Kirullapone, whose smile is tinged with deep sadness, as she greets us.

“Yes, I still have Hiruni’s little toothbrush in the bathroom and her uniform in the almirah,” she says, sighing that she is trying to “atha-arala danna” those raw and painful memories. The little one’s photograph retains its pride of place next to the front door. She would be 27 years old now.

Planning to leave on an outing on December 25, 2004, the family had put it off by a day on the urging of relatives who wished to join them. The train-ride to Hikkaduwa would be followed by a glass-bottomed boat-ride to see the corals, a tasty lunch and a train-ride back home.

It was never meant to be. They boarded Train No. 50 and horror befell them at Peraliya. When the first wave hit, Latha placed Hiruni on the luggage rack…….then the vicious second wave hit, catching the train like a small toy in its relentless grip and leaving it a mangled wreck. Hiruni was missing and a teenage relative was dead. They ran to higher ground and the Telwatte temple. They searched for Hiruni but did not find her body.

Posters about the missing girl elicited a phone call from rice-mill owner, Sirithunga mudalali of Aluthwela, who was insistent then and still calls them to tell them that he rescued Hiruni from a tree-branch and sent her along with his daughter to the temple, as he went looking for his wife. His wife had died in the tsunami and his daughter had lost Hiruni near the temple.

Twenty long years of concerted efforts including Facebook and YouTube appeals by elder sister Naduni to find Hiruni have been of no avail.

Naduni is now married and expecting her first baby, a girl, in February next year. While looking forward to holding her grandchild, Latha is surrounded by cats, five in all. She has also provided lodgings to three female undergraduates to keep her company, until Naduni and her husband return home from work.

Seven needy expectant mothers will be given bags with provisions valued at Rs. 10,000 each and a heel daane offered to four monks for beloved Hiruni who lives on in the memory of Latha and Naduni.

Two families torn asunder by giant waves two decades ago!

 

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