22nd March 1998 |
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Part IV of our series on the environment with Studio Times
By Charith Pelpola Pix by Nihal Fernando
Onshore, the animal is flipped on to its back. Powerless and unable to act against its oppressors, the turtle flails pathetically at the air with useless flippers. A man will come close, and using a sharp curving blade, will prise the protective ventral carapace from its body. As the blood spills, the same knife is used to dissect portions of the living flesh from the dying animal. And the flesh quivers as it is removed; holding on to the last pulse of life until it finally drains away with the blood and the salt water, into the sand. A long line of smiling villagers wait to take their share. Through it all, the turtle makes no sound. The flailing limbs will move with less energy, until they are defunct and quite still. The turtle's eyes will stare, fathomless and glazed. Mucus, saline tears will weep through the ordeal, and long after its life has been taken. An empty shell will lie abandoned on the shore; and scavengers will take their pick. Inhuman and yet so typical of us. We find it difficult to accept that we are capable of such barbarism. It is much easier to turn the page and forget the words. A mouth is fed for one day. A life is lost forever.
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