No Peace in Sight in Human-vs-Elephant War

KONWEVA, Sri Lanka, Aug 4 (IPS) – Dusk creeps over Konweva like a black shroud slowly draping over the village. The edges of its paddy fields, where the agricultural plains meet the surrounding thick shrubs, are first to be blanketed in the darkness. Already, there are signs that the night will not be peaceful.

Villagers in Konweva, located in north-western Kurunegala district some 150 kilometres from the Sri Lankan capital Colombo, eye one another anxiously as loud booms are heard across the fields. “They have begun to move,” Immihami Mudiyanse, a farmer, warns in hushed tones.

From the edge of an abandoned paddy field, we keep a watchful eye out for them – marauding elephants that have been wandering from their jungle habitat and wreaking havoc in the village.

Suddenly, Shanika Ekenayaka, one among the group keeping vigil that night, gestures urgently toward a spot in the horizon where the field ends and the jungle begins. A large shadow emerges nonchalantly from the shrubs and lumbers leisurely across the deserted field – oblivious to the loud firecrackers that go off intermittently, somewhere over the ridge of the jungle. A group of us squats just 500 metres away – the beast knows we are there, but does not care.

In stark contrast, we are visibly more nervous. Mesmerised by the magnificent figure in front of us, our heads twitch toward the jungle to our left every 10 seconds or so, cautious not to be caught off-guard by other rampaging elephants that could be heading straight toward us. “That wouldn’t be very good, would it?” Ekenayaka asks, rhetorically.

After 20 gut-wrenching minutes, the animal completes its amble across the field, and disappears as it appeared – merging into the darkness behind a dirt road. “Tonight there will be no sleep,” Mudiyanse says, as he heads back to his paddy fields to keep a night of vigil.

The hide-and-seek battle between the villagers and the elephants here is a common, but deadly, ritual. And Konweva is but one location where this deadly game is being played out.

According to government official Archchilage Weerasinghe, some 283 hectares of land have been cultivated in the Konweva area for paddy. But the elephants have impeded further development. “We don’t plant in an area of about 350 acres (142 hectares) because of elephants,” Weerasinghe says.

The elephants cross the paddy fields at will and trample the crops, villagers complain. Weerasinghe gave IPS a tour of some agricultural areas where the animals had roamed the week before. From a distance, it looked like the aftermath of a meteorite storm. The elephants have also destroyed hundreds of coconut trees lining the village, he explains.

It does not help that villagers are not entitled to compensation for damages to crops caused by the elephants if their fields are on government-owned land, which locals often use without permits.

In short, residents here say, elephants are far from the adorable creatures seen on television.

In July, a villager was trampled to death, and his wife injured, in an elephant attack. According to Weerasinghe, at least three villagers have been killed by elephants in the past year. In Sri Lanka, some 228 elephants and 50 humans were killed in human-elephant confrontations in 2009, say government reports.

“The government gives us crackers to light when they come, but they are of no use,” Weerasinghe laments. Each farmer receives four firecrackers a month, “not enough, not enough for even a day,” he says.

Some experts, like Jayantha Jayewardene of the Asian Elephant Specialist Group, believe the elephants might have wandered into villages here because they prefer secondary- growth forests, or those in the process of re-growth after having been used for agriculture or logging.

The abundance of food in villages like Konweva, where paddy harvests can remain stored inside residents’ homes for months, also provides incentive for the elephants to venture into these homes.

In fact, the elephants have shown a penchant for paddy that is at a particular age, “not young, but not mature enough for harvest,” says Deepani Kumudini, a Konweva resident. To keep the roaming herds from pillaging their produce, farmers are forced to harvest crops before they reach maturity.

Jayewardene suggests a possible solution: building electric fences to keep the animals out – a method that is used extensively here in Sri Lanka. But there could be far- reaching consequences. “One thing to bear in mind is that fencing can confine elephants to a small area and lead to starvation among the animals, especially when food is scarce during times like drought,” Jayewardene explains.

While experts encourage farmers to be more vigilant in watching over their crops, villagers argue that the extra effort results in excruciatingly low returns on investment from paddy cultivation.

In one case, 14 guards had to be employed on elephant watch, stationed in seven huts erected around a 1.6-hectare paddy field. “The labour cost, the time all put together, this is not worth it,” says Weerasinghe. To add to the farmers’ woes, paddy prices have fallen recently.

The villagers are adamant that the elephants are not native to the area: they were not seen here until some 20 years ago, they say. Some believe the first elephants were sighted in Konweva in March 1992 after the herds were forced to flee jungles in the north-east when Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict erupted into an all-out war.

Wherever the elephants came from, villagers want them out – but that is unlikely to happen. For now, there is no solution in sight to make peace between human and beast, so the nightly ritual of elephant patrols by Konweva villagers continues.

ගමම බිය වද්දා සද්ධන්තයන් රජ කරයි

ඔරලෝසුවේ තුනේ කණිසම වැදුනා. කෝන්වැව ප්‍රදේශයේ පදිංචි වැසියන් යුහුසුළුව සැරසෙන්නේ කුමකටද ? ජීවිතය යන්තමින් හෝ ගැට ගහගන්න කරන එකම ව්‍යාපාරයත් හරිහැටි කරගැනීමට නොහෙකි වෙන කොට මිනිස්සු කොච්චර නම් අපහසුතත්වයන්ට පත්වෙනවා ඇද්ද ? ප්‍රදේශයේ වැසියන්ට මේ වනවිට විශාල ප්‍රශ්න රාශියකට මුහුණ දෙන්න සිදුවෙලා.මේ හැම දේකටම හේතු වී ඇත්තේ වල් අලින්ගේ කඩා වැදීමයි.

“මේවා මේ කපන්න තරම් පැහිච්ච ගොයම් ගස් නෙමෙයි එත් ඒවා පැහෙනකම් තියන්න බැහැනේ ” යයි කුරුණෑගල, අතනගල්ල ප්‍රදේශයේ පදිංචි දීපානි කුමුදුනි පැවසිය. පවසන ආකාරයටම සියල්ල නතු කරගැනීමට නොහැකි නිසා මමත් ඒ පැල දිහා බලන් හිටියා .ඇත්තටම ඒවා කපන්න තරම් ප්‍රමාණවත් තරමට පැහිල තිබ්බ ඒවා නෙමෙයි ඒත් පොලිසියෙන් කඩා වදින්නා සේ එකපාරටම මුළු ප්‍රදේශයම බියගන්වා කඩා පත්වෙන වල් අලින්ගෙන් ඒවා බේරගන්න තියන එකම ක්‍රමය මෙය ඇරෙන්න වෙන දෙයක් එයාල දැනන් හිටියෙත් නැ. සමහරක් දවස් වල හවස් වෙනකොට මුළු කුඹුරු යායම වැසෙන තරමට සන්දන්තයන් සියයක් දෙසීයක් තම වගාවන් යටකරගෙන සිටින බව ඔවුන් අපිට පැවසුවා. මහන්සියෙන් වගා කරපුව නිකරුනේ ව්නාශ වෙන්න දෙන්න පුලුවන්ද ?

දීපානි කුමුදුනි කෝන්වැව ප්‍රදේශයේ පදිංචිකාරියක් නොවුවත් ඇය මෙම ප්‍රදේශයෙන් විවාහයක් කරගැනීමට බලාපොරොත්තුවෙන් සිටින්නියක්. තම අනාගත ස්වාමියාගේ දියුණුවට දැන් පටන් අත්වැලක් වන්නට සිතා ඇය මෙහෙට විත් අත් උදව් දෙයි.

“රජයට දැන් වුවත් වැඩක් උනේ නැ මේවා රජයට අයත් ඉඩම් නිසා අලින්ටත් ජිවත් වෙන්න අයිතියක් තියනවා කියල එයාල කිව්වා. වන ජීවි එකට දැන්වුවා ඒත් එයාලත් ඇවිත් බල බල යනවා විතරයි ගණන් ගන්නේ නැ. ඕනේ නම් මම කොළඹ එන්න උනත් ලෑස්ති මේ ගැන කතා කරන්න . මේ පැත්තේ ළමයින්ට ඉස්කෝලේ යන්නවත් විදියක් නැ. හවස තුන හතර වෙනකොට වල් අලි මේ පැත්තට එනවා ඉතින් ළමයින්ව ඉස්කෝලේ යවන්න බයයි ” යයි දීපානි කුමුදුනි තවදුරටත් පැවසිය.

තම බඩවියත රැක ගන්න වගාකළ සියල්ල එක පැත්තකින් විනාශ වෙද්දී තවත් පැත්තකින් වටිනා ජිවිත ගණනක් බිලි වෙමින් පවතී. ” ගොයම් විතරක් නෙමෙයි මුන් මේ පැත්තේ මිනිස්සු කීප දෙනෙක්වත් මරල තියනවා. ගිය සුමානේ මේ පැත්තේ ගෙදරකට වල් අලියෙක් පැනල ඒ ගෙදර ගැනු කෙනයි පිරිමි කෙනයි උදේ ගෙදරින් එලියට බහින්න දොර ඇරගෙන එලියට එනවත් එක්කම හොඩ වැලෙන් අබරලා අරන් වාසනාවකට ගැනු කෙනා හොඩ වැලෙන් ලිස්සල බිමට වැටිලා එයාගේ අතක් කැඩිලා දැන් කුරුණෑගල ඉස්පිරිතාලේ ඒත් අවාසනාවකට පිරිමි කෙනාව බිත්තියේ ගහල මරල දැම්මා” යයි කොන් වැව ප්‍රදේශයේ පදිංචි ඉමිහාමි මුදියන්සේ පැවසුවේය .

කිලිනොච්චියේ සිටි මොවුන් මෙහි පැමිණ ඇත්තේ කුරිරු ත්‍රස්තවාදයෙන් මිදී සුන්දර පවුල් ජිවිතයක් ගත කිරීමටය. එහෙත් සිදුව එත්තේ අලින්ට බිලිවිමටය. මොවුන් ජිවත් වුනේ ගොවිතැන ජිවනෝපාය කරගෙන නොවේ කුඩ හදලා.

කනින් ඇසු සියල්ල හිතේ රදවාගෙන ආපසු එන්න හැදු අපි ගමම හොල්ලන සද්ධන්තයන් දැක ගැනීමට කැළයට වැදුනි. ඔරලෝසුවේ කට්ට කැරකෙන්නා සේ හිතත් මුළු කුඹුරු යායවල් වටේ දුවද්දී  හැමදේම දැක ගැනීමේ අසාවෙන් අපි බලන් හිටියා. කොච්චර බලන් හිටියත් අපිට අපේ අරමුණ කරා යාමට යන්න බැරි උනා. ආපසු එන්නට හැරුණත් ඒ එක්කම වගේ අලින්ට ගහන වෙඩිල්ලක් පත්තු වුනා. පස්සට තිබ්බ කකුල ඉදිරියටම තියල නැවතත් ගමන  ආරම්භකළා. විශාල ගස් දෙකක් මැද්දෙන් හොඩවැල එහෙට මෙහෙට වන වන අලියෙක් මතු වුනා. උගේ ගමන නිරීක්ෂණය කරමින් ඉදිරියට ගියද මාර්ගය අනෙක් පස තිබු කැළයට ඌ වැදුන නිසා අපිට නැවත  දැක ගැනීමට නොහෙකි වුනා. විනාඩි කිහිපයක් ගත වුනා. කිලෝමීටරයක් දුරින් තවත් වල් අලි  තුන් දෙනෙක් අපට දැක  ගැනීමට හැකිවුනා. ඔවුන් ඒ ඇදෙන්නේ කුඹුරු තියන ප්‍රදේශයන් දෙසටය.

ගම්වාසීන් රැය පහන් කරන් පැල් බැදන්  බලා සිටින්නේ මොවුන් එනතෙක්ය. අතීත අදුරු මතකයන් පිසදා හෙට නැගෙන හිරුත් සමග සතුටු සිතින් ජිවත් වෙන්නට කොන් වැව ගම්වාසීන්ට කවදා හැකිවේවිද?

හෙට එච්චර කලූවර නැහැ

Fresh catch may bring new life to former conflict zone

PANICHCHANKERNI, 26 July 2010 (IRIN) – Every day, more than 100 fishing boats launch into the waters off Panichchankerni in eastern Batticaloa District – four times the number when fighting re-erupted four years ago. Security restrictions meant boats could only go out at certain times, but these rules have been relaxed since the end of the war in May 2009.

“We go out daily now,” said Dominic Silva, a fisherman whose family has been involved in the  local fishing industry for 75 years. “There is no restriction on fishing hours. We can now calculate when the best catches will be and we go out.”

The revival bodes well for the local economy, which relied on fishing and agriculture for 50 percent of its revenue before the 26-year conflict.

“Small-scale fishing is the lifeline of fisher families along the coast of the north and the east. Due to severe security restrictions during the civil war such small-scale fishing was almost all for meeting people’s basic needs or for survival,” said Muthukrishna Sarvananthan, principal researcher at the Point Pedro Institute of Development.

“In the past year after the war, fishing has gradually experienced considerable commercialization.”

On a good day, fishermen can earn as much as US$185, though the average daily income is about $10-$30. The booming industry has also provided an income stream for at least 500 villagers as boat hands and in other odd jobs.

However, in other areas, the picture is gloomier. “I visited Kilinochchi and Mullaitivu [in the north] one month ago. At that time, people were suffering from a lack of fishing equipment. Kilinochchi and Mullaitivu still haven’t come back to normal,” said Maheeni Samarkoon, national fisheries coordinator with the Sewa Lanka Foundation.

Sarvananthan cautioned against being too optimistic about the revival of small-time fishing. Its impact is unlikely to last long unless there is significant development and diversification in the sector, he said.

“Small-scale fishing activity has a short shelf-life in the northeast. In the medium and long term it has to either upgrade into large-scale deep-sea fishing or diversify into other sectors,” he said.

Samarkoon noted that while coastal fishing has revived in the east, more technical knowledge and input are needed to bring back deep-sea fishing. Furthermore, she added, “in the east of the country, there is vast potential for aquaculture development activities”.

War Over, But Women Wage Battle For Survival

SRI LANKA, Vaharai, June 16, 2010 - Tamil women push ashore a boat that had just returned. These women work in gangs helping the boats, they get paid in fish, each helping handing earning them a couple of fish. They collect the fish in small bags and by the end of the day each would have about a kilo or more, that they sell to the buyers. (Amantha Perera/Perambara)

VAHARAI, Sri Lanka, Jul 25, 2010 (IPS) – It was a typically hot, humid day in this eastern coastal village. The sun burned down from a cloudless sky, roasting the skin as an angry sea breeze swatted the faces of the few foolish enough to venture out onto the deserted main road that runs through town.

But it was far from a typical day for some 100 people who sat, waiting patiently by the side of the road in front of the main government office here in Vaharai, some 65 kilometres north-west of Batticaloa.

Most of them were women of a diverse mix of ages. Some mothers cradled their children, gently soothing young nerves frayed by the smouldering sun. Seeking shelter under a large tree, they clutched forms – filled only minutes before – as they awaited their turn to meet the divisional secretary, the top government official in Vaharai.

“I have to get these documents cleared so that I have some kind of ownership to the land I live in,” said Navunad Sudha, a 29-year-old mother. “We also have to register here before we can move about easily.”

Sudha’s story is typical of many in Sri Lanka’s east, which along with the north are where many of the Tamil minority live, and are the areas most affected by the separatist war waged by the Tamil Tigers.

It is only now that people like Suhda feel they can breathe easy, after the war ended more than a year ago.

With her family and then five-year-old son, Sudha fled her home in the middle of 2008, when Sri Lankan government forces began their final, decisive push into areas in the north and east controlled by the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). After months of running and near-death horrors, she finally crossed the battlefront and moved to safety behind the government line in May 2009. Just two days after her escape, the military crushed the Tigers.

Civilians like Sudha bore the brunt of the LTTE’s conflict with successive Sri Lankan governments since the early 1980s, demanding a separate Tamil homeland.

But even after the end of the war, the battle for survival continues for many women here.

Most of the available work here, especially in construction of buildings, clearing of jungles, fishing and farming, is almost exclusively male- dominated. To make matters worse, many women are struggling to cope with having to head the household after losing their husbands and sons – the traditional breadwinners in this patriarchal society – to the war.

Sudha was born in the village of Kadiraveli just north of Vaharai, but fell in love with a man from northern Jaffna. They married, moved to the north, and finally settled in Puhtukkuddyiruppu – a Tiger stronghold for over a decade before government forces wrested control last year.

Sudha had no say when her husband joined the LTTE. He fought with them, Sudha admits, but left the movement years before the final bout of fighting erupted in mid-2007.

After crossing over to government-held areas, Sudha’s husband was arrested for possible links with the Tigers, and is still in detention. “I have written to ministers, to the ICRC (International Committee of the Red Cross) and to others with this, but so far I have not heard anything,” she said.

While trying to convince authorities that her husband is a family man and not a hardcore separatist, Sudha also has to make a living. She returned to her native Vaharai and has set up small sewing business. “I have had to pawn all my jewellery. I’m trying to get a loan or a grant to start a small boutique,” Sudha said.

Sudha’s woes are far too common among women in the war-affected areas. In Pillumalai, about 80 km from Vaharai, 20-year-old Sarojadevi Ramanathan is trying her level best to put the past behind and begin anew – an uphill battle, given that her life was at a standstill for two years beginning mid- 2006.

At that time, Sri Lankan forces had begun launching large-scale, sustained military forays into areas held by the Tigers in the eastern province of Sri Lanka. The Tigers – notorious for forced conscription of underage civilians – were desperate for new recruits.

At 16, Ramanathan would have been a perfect choice for the Tigers, so her parents took the drastic decision of never letting their daughter out their sight. The young girl stopped attending school and spent most of her life indoors. “That was the only way they could save me from being conscripted,” she said.

The family fled the fighting in early 2007 and returned about a year later. But now, Ramanathan finds herself in limbo. Too old for school, too young and inexperienced for any other job, she is still stuck mostly at home. “What can I do? I can’t help my father who is a fisherman, so I help my mother in the kitchen,” she said.

Marriage might appear to be her best bet, but there is no guarantee that life will become easier.

There are hardly any jobs to speak of here, and even less for women. Ramanathan’s neighbour, 18-year-old Ravindranathan Valarmadu, earns about 17 U.S. dollars a month, working six days a week at a milk collection centre. “This is the only job I could find,” she said.

by Amantha Perera, syndicated with permission

Murali Peaks On Twitter

Murali’s dramatic performance in his last test match sparked the Internet trend. The spin wizard made history by ending his test cricket career with a round 800 wickets, the most ever taken. This was all the more exciting because Murali declared his retirement before the game and had to get a challenging 8 wickets to make the milestone. With millions watching, including Sri Lankan President Mahinda Rajapaksa in the stands, Murali dramatically took his 800th wicket, dismissing Indian batsman Pragyan Ojha. His teammates hoisted him on their shoulders as they exited the stadium to thunderous applause.

This sparked excitement on the field, in the stands, and across the global Internet via Twitter. Sri Lankan ‘tweeps’ like @Laktek, @Nazly and thousands more began cheering Murali from their mobile phones and computers. This groundswell of activity made the keyword ‘Murali’ a trending topic on Twitter, a measure of the most popular conversations on this site. This territory is usually reserved for hit movies or pop stars like Justin Bieber.

Murali was the first Sri Lankan since Prabhakaran to generate such traffic, and the first to do so in an entirely positive context.

Sri Lankan tweeps were joined by their counterparts in India, Australia and England – cricket playing countries. From South Africa, cricketer Graeme Smith tweeted “Murali 800 test wickets!!!!brilliant.great test career and a really good man.glad I don’t need to face him in test cricket again:)”. Fans and detractors from all over the world offered their two cents in 140 characters or less. You can read some of their comments online as the trend continues.

යළිත් නැගෙන්නට සවියක් වනු මැන

නැගෙනහිරට හිරු උදා වූයේ එහි කිරණින් නැගෙනහිර වැසියන්ගේ ජීවිතවලට නවමු ආලෝකයක් ලබා දෙන්නට මෙනි. ශාපලත් යුද්ධය අවසන් වී සැනසිල්ලේ අවදිව හිදින්නට හැකි සමයක් නැගෙනහිරට දැන්උදා වී තිබේ.  අමිහිරි යුද්ධයේ අදුරු සෙවණැලි යට දිවි ගෙවූ නැගෙනහිර වැසියන් ජීවිතය කොතැනකින් හෝ යළිත් අරඹන්නට සුබ සිහින දකිමින් සිටී. එහෙත් ඒ ගමනේදී දහසකුත් එකක් බාධක ජය ගන්නට ඔවුන්ට සිදුව තිබේ.

මාන්තෝට්ටම පදිංචි ඩබ්ලිව්.ඒ විල්බට් වික‍්‍රමනායක පවසන ආකාරයට මේ ප‍්‍රදේශයන්හි වැසියන්ට ප‍්‍රශ්න රාශියකට මුහුණ දීමට සිදුව තිබේ.  වල් අලින්ගේ කඩා වැදීමත්, පානීය ජලය නොමැති කමත් සහ යටිතල පහසුකම් නිසි පරිදි නොමැති විමත් යන කාරණා හේතුවෙන් මේ ප‍්‍රදේශයන්හී ගැමියෝ දැඩි පීඩාවට පත්ව සිටිති.

‘‘අපිට අලින්ගෙන් සෑහෙන්න කරදරයි. ඒ කාලෙත් තිබුණා, අදත් ඒ කරදරේ ඒ විදිහටම තියෙනවා.’’  විල්බට් පැවසුවේය. ඔහු පවසන ආකාරයට අවුරුදු තිහකට වැඩි කාලයක තිස්සේ මේ වැසියන් වල් අලින්ගෙන් පීඩා විදිති. ත‍්‍රිකුණාමලය දිස්ත‍්‍රික්කයේ දිගාමඩුල්ල ප‍්‍රාදේශීය ලේකම් කොට්ඨාසයට අයත් මහවැව ගම්මානයේ පවුල් 227 ජීවත් වෙති ඔවුන්ගේ ප‍්‍රධාන ජීවනෝපාය වන්නේ ගොවිතැන සහ දර කැපීමයි. එහෙත් නිදහසේ ගොවිතැනක් කර ගන්නට මේ ප‍්‍රදේශයේ වැසියන්ට වල් අලි ප‍්‍රශ්නය නිසා නොහැකි වී තිබේ.

‘‘අපි මේ ගමේ ජීවත් වෙන්නේ 1963 ඉදන්. මේවායේ කවදාවත් අලිවැටක් ගහලා බේරෙන්න බැහැ. හැන්දෑවේ හතර වෙනකොට අලි  එනවා. ගමේ මිනිස්සු අලි ගහලා මැරෙනවා. ගෙවල් කඩනවා. ගොවිතැන් පාලූ කරනවා.’’ විල්බට් පවසන ආකාරයට මාසයකට වතාවක් ලැබෙන අලි වෙඩි හතර දවසක පැය බාගයකටවත් සෑහෙන්නේ නැත. කලක් තිස්සේ මේ කලාපයේ පවතින අලි මිනිස් ගැටුමේ අවසානයක් දකින තුරු මේ ප‍්‍රදේශයේ වැසියන් බලා සිටිති. අලි ප‍්‍රශ්නයට අමතරව මේ ප‍්‍රදේශයේ වැසියන්ට ජල ප‍්‍රශ්නයකටද මුහුණ දීමට සිදුව තිබේ. විධිමත් පානීය ජලපහසුකම් පද්ධතියක් නොතිබීම හේතුවෙන් මෙහි වාසීන්ට සැතපුම් දුර ගෙවා ජලය සොයා යාමට සිදුව තිබේ.

‘‘අපිට වතුර හොයාගෙන එහා ගමට යන්න වෙලා තියෙනවා. අපේ ළමයි ඉස්කොලේ යන්න කලින් වතුර අරන් එන්න පුථවන් තරම් පාන්දරින් යන්න වෙලා තියෙනවා. ගෑණු ළමයෙක් තනියම නාන්නවත් යවන්න පුථවන් කමක් කමක් නැහැ.’’ කිතුල්උතුව සමෘද්ධි සමිතියේ ලේකම් නිශාන්ත නිමල් පැවසුවේය. නිසි වාරිමාර්ග පද්ධතියක් නොමැති වීම හේතුවෙන් බීමට පමණක් නොවේ මෙහි ගොවියන්ට ගොවිතැන් කිරීමටද නොහැකි තත්ත්වයක් උද්ගත වී තිබේ.

‘‘අපිට ඉඩම් තියෙනවා. ඒත් වතුර නැති නිසා වගා කරන්න විදිහක් නැහැ.’’ කිතුල්උතුවේ ගොවියෙකු වූ සමරකෝන් රංබණ්ඩා පැවසුවේය. මේ ප‍්‍රදේශයේ මිනිසුන් දැඩි ලෙස දරිද්‍රතාවයෙන් පීඩා විදින බව නොරහසකි. ද්‍රරිද්‍රතාව මේ වැසියන්ට හුරුපුරුදු අදුරු සිහිනයකි.

‘‘ මට දැරවෝ හතර දෙනෙක් ඉන්නවා. අපි දර කපලා තමයි ජීවත් වෙන්නේ. ඒත් දැන් අමු ලී කෑල්ලක් තිබුණොත් අපිව වනජීවී එකෙන් අරන් යනවා. මේකෙන් ලැබෙන ආදායමෙන් ජීවත් වෙන්න අමාරුයි. ළමයින්ට දවසකට ඉස්කෝලෙ යන්න රැපියල් 120 ක් විතර යනවා.’’ කිතුල්උතුවේ එස්. සීලාවතී පැවසුවාය.
එමෙන්ම පලූ ගස් වලින් පලූ ගෙඩි කඩා විකිණීම මේ වන විට මේ ප‍්‍රදේශයේ වැසියන්ගේ ප‍්‍රධාන ජීවනෝපාය වි තිබේ. දශක කිහිපයක් ඇවිල ගිය කුරිරු යුද්ධයෙන් අනතුරුව සිය ගම් බිම් කරා පැමිණ සිටින ඔවුන්ට අත්වාරුවක් නොමැතිව නැගී සිටීම දුෂ්කර කාර්යක් වී තිබේ. නැවත පදිංචියට පැමිණි ඔවුන්ට සය මාසයකට ආහාර සලාකයක් හිමි වුවද එය සය මාසයක් ඉක්ම ගොස් ඇති බැවින් එය මේ වන විට ඔවුන්ට ලබා නොදේ.

‘‘අපි ප‍්‍රාදේශීය ලේකම්තුමාගෙන් ඉල්ලීමක් කළා තවත් මාස හයක් අපිට ආහාර සලාකය ලබා දෙන්න කියලා. ඒත් ඒකට කවුරු හරි ඉදිරිපත් වුණොත් විතරක් ලබා දෙන්න පුථවන් කියලා අපිට කීවා.’’ එහෙත් මේ වන තුරුත් කිසිදු ආයතයක් ඊට ඉදිරිපත් නොවී තිබීම ගම්වැසියන්ගේ ලතැවුලට හේතු වී තිබේ. කෙසේ වෙතත් ගමේ දියුණුවට ප‍්‍රාදේශීය ලේකම් කාර්යාලය, හමුදාව සහ පොලිසිය මහත් සහයක් ලබා දෙන බව ගම්වැසියෝ පවසති.

මොරවැව ප‍්‍රාදේශීය  ලේකම් කාර්යාලය සහයෝගය ඇතිව රාජ්‍ය නොවන සංවිධාන පහක් එකතුව හැන්ඞ් කාෆ් නමින් පිහිටුවා ඇති ආයතනය මේ
ප‍්‍රදේශයේ වැසියන්ට මහත් පිටුවහලක් වී තිබේ. මේ ආයතනය  ගමේ දියුණුවට අත්වැල් සපයන්නට ඉදිරිපත් වීම පිළිබද එහි වැසියන් කතා කරන්නේ කෘතවේදීවය. නීත්‍යානූකූල ඉඩම් නොමැති විමද මේ ප‍්‍රදේශ වැසියන් මුහුණ පා ඇති බරපතළම ගැටලූවක් බවට මේ වන විට පත්ව තිබේ.

‘‘යුද්ධය තිබ්බ කාළේ ගොවිතැන් හේන් කරන්න  ඕන තරම් ඉඩ කඩ තිබුණා. ඒත් දැන් තත්තවය වෙනස් වෙලා. දැන් සමහර අයට හේන් ගොවිතැන් කරන්න ඒ ඉඩම් තමන්ගේම ඉඩම් බවට ඔප්පු කරන්න සිද්ධ වෙලා. අපේ මුතුන් මිත්තො තමන්ගේම මේ ඉඩම් වල ජීවත් වුණේ අයිතිය තහවුරු කරගෙන නෙමෙයි.  මේ ඉඩම් නීතිතියෙන් අයිති නැති නිසා අපිට දැන් මේ වගෙන් අයින් වෙලා යන්න කියනවා. ඒත් අපිට වෙන යන්න තැනක්  නැහැ. අපි කියන්නේ මේ ඉඩම් නිරවුල් කරලා අපිට බලපත‍්‍ර ලබා දෙන්න කියලා.’’ මාන්තෝට්ටම පදිංචි වික‍්‍රමනායක පැවසුවේය.

මේ වන විට මෙම ගම්වාසීන්හි වැසියන් නැවත පදිංචිකොට වසර පහක් ඉක්ම ගොස් තිබුණද බොහොමයක් පිරිසට තවමත් සිය අයිතිය යටතේ පවතින ඉඩමක හිමිකාරීත්වය අහිමි වී තිබේ. අතීතයේ සිදු වූ අතපසු වීම් හේතුවෙන් වර්තමානයේ සහ අනාගත පරපුරට නිදහසේ දිවි ගෙවීමේ ඉඩ ප‍්‍රස්තාව අහිමි වීමට ඉඩ නොතැබි යුතු බව ගම්වාසීන් අවධාරණය කර සිටිති.

New Tremors, Old Nightmares

DUTCH BAR, Jul 19 (IPS) – Janoshini Maurasini shakes like a leaf each time the sea belches a thunderous roar. And the 29-year-old mother of two has good reason to be nervous: Maurasini only narrowly escaped with her life in the Indian Ocean tsunami on Dec. 26, 2004, which killed over 35,000 of her fellow Sri Lankans within minutes.
As giant waves battered the village of Dutch Bar, some 300 kilometres from the capital Colombo along Sri Lanka’s eastern coast, Maurasini had run for her life. But the waves caught up with her. Her husband could only watch helplessly as the monstrous waves dragged her away and tossed her around like a rag doll.

Maurasini does not remember much of the ordeal, except that it felt like being caught in a vicious whirlpool. She had tried desperately to grab on to anything as the current swept her along. Finally, she managed to cling on to the walls of a well, and fell into it after the waves receded. She later climbed – miraculously – to safety, with the help of a fallen coconut tree.

“It’s a nightmare that I don’t want to go back to; I don’t even want to think about what happened. I have tried to erase the memory all these years,” she says. Her greatest fear is having to experience that again.

But on the morning of Jun. 13, Maurasini’s heart skipped a beat as the tsunami warning alarm went off, triggered by fears of deadly waves caused by an undersea earthquake off Indonesia.

The large red tower crowned with loudhailers pointed in four directions, erected in the heart of Dutch Bar following the 2004 tragedy, wailed its incessant siren: the cue for villagers to evacuate immediately. Or else.

As the alarm sounded, Dutch Bar residents poured out from their homes – many still in their night clothes – to escape any possible killer waves. Amid the chaos, police jeeps from nearby stations roamed the deserted villages to protect the vacant houses from looters, and make sure no one remained on the beach.

“No one stayed, no one,” says Ano Sujeetha, 45, a Dutch Bar villager who lost her mother and several relatives in the 2004 tsunami.

Dutch Bar was not the only place where an evacuation occurred. The scene was replicated in several other coastal villages that June morning, as thousands of Sri Lankans fled to safer areas to wait until the tsunami warning was lifted. The warnings were also issued in more remote locations like Panichchankerni some 30 km north of Dutch Bar, to make sure that people had ample time to get away.

Dominic Silva, a fisherman who lives in a hut on the beach in Panichchankerni, was awakened by the knock of police officers warning him to leave. “The last time a tsunami wave came, we only knew about it when 20-foot (6- metre) high waves had already started rolling in,” Silva says. During the 2004 tsunami, he was walking out from church after mass, only to find fishermen and families running helter-skelter as waves smashed through the roofs of huts just 30 m away.

While the undersea earthquake off Indonesia, which triggered the alarm, did not result in a tsunami, experts say it is better to be safe than to sorry.

Local seismic expert C B Dissanayake observes that Sri Lanka is prone to occasional earthquakes, several of which have been reported inland since the 2004 tsunami. “More than 25 years ago, people hardly talked of earthquakes in Sri Lanka. Now, as everyone knows, earth tremors occur quite frequently in Sri Lanka and the trend is more marked than ever before,” he wrote in a recent research article.

“Indeed many people would have laughed if some said, prior to 2004, that a tsunami would strike Sri Lanka and that thousands would perish,” Dissanayake says. But he warns that seismic activity suggests the possibility of another tsunami striking Sri Lanka is very real.

Since 2004, Sri Lanka has worked to improve on its disaster response and early warning capabilities. A Disaster Management Centre to issue early warnings and communicate with public authorities and police has been set up. While the system is still in its infancy, citizens are grateful that they now receive at least some warning. Authorities have also installed signposts along the coast, indicating directions to safer, elevated areas.

“In 2004, we did not know what to do. Now at least we know that we have to get to higher ground,” Sujeetha says.

Authorities also conducted a island-wide tsunami evacuation drill in 14 coastal villages this month.

The fear of the next big wave of terror is never far away from the eastern coast, which suffered the most deaths and damage six years ago. In Sainathimaruthu, a village 30 km south of Dutch Bar, over 3,000 people are believed to have died. The death toll here in Dutch Bar runs high into the hundreds. At least three tsunami memorials dot the narrow, residential stretch of its beaches.

As she sat near one such memorial, its lights creating a bright halo against the approaching night skies, Maurasini says she wishes she could go back to the pre-tsunami days. Back then, the sea was never a vicious monster hiding beneath the blue and white waves. “Now we know what it can do,” she sighs. “At least next time, we will get a good headstart and run before it can catch us.”

After Decades of Bloodshed, Home Calls

PERIYAPILLUMALLAI, Sri Lanka, July  6, 2010 (IPS) – For almost two decades, Athanayakemudiyanselage Punchibanda lived without hope of ever returning here to his native village.

The 52-year-old grandfather was forced to leave Periyapillumallai, a village located deep in Sri Lanka’s eastern Batticaloa district, with his family in 1991 when ethnic tensions boiled over. Punchibanda is from the majority Sinhalese community, but lived in a village that bordered areas inhabited by the country’s minority Tamils.

The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) was by then waging a bloody sectarian war, demanding a separate state for the Tamils carved out in this South Asian country’s north and east. Regardless of ethnicity, civilians were caught in the fighting and paid a heavy price.

“We fled because we knew we would be killed,” Punchibanda told IPS.

For 19 years, Punchibanda’s family was among the war-displaced, settling in the Mahaweva area some 10 kilometres away. In those 19 years, the war turned bloodier, with at least four failed attempts at negotiating a settlement.

Seven months after the war ended in May 2009 with government forces wiping out the Tigers, Punchibanda ventured back home.

Only seven of the 172 Sinhalese families living in Periyapillumallai when Punchibanda left returned with him in December 2009. The number has whittled down further – only three families still remain.

“Life is hard, the jungle has taken over our houses and crop land,” Punchibanda says, looking at the thick bush that surrounds the little plot he has cleared and planted maize in. “We hardly know anyone here, but it is our village.”

He and his wife work the land tirelessly under the scorching sun. At night, they ascend treetop hideouts to guard their crops against marauding elephants. Despite the hardship, Punchibanda is happy to finally return home after almost two decades. “My children or grandchildren will never come here. They don’t feel any connection, but I do,” he says.

This same ‘connection’ has brought Mohamed Aifa, a 62-year-old Muslim woman, and her husband to the adjoining village of Rukam. Like the Sinhalese, the Muslims were forced out of Tiger-controlled areas.

Aifa’s family fled the village in the mid-1990s, with Muslims unable to work in their fields and attacks were reported in the night. Incidents like the August 1990 massacre of 147 Muslims inside a mosque in the nearby town of Kathankuddi, purportedly by the Tigers, drove fear into Muslims living in areas under the Tigers’ yoke. Almost all subsequently fled.

“We lived in Chenkalady (a town about 30 km away), where the government was in control,” Aifa says.

Unlike the Sinhalese, who remain a mere handful in areas formerly under the Tigers, many Muslims have begun to flock home following the end of the war. “We feel safe here. There is good fish in the tank, there is a good market in the town,” says Aifa, as one of her relatives bundled together 500 rupees (4.4 U.S. dollars) worth of baked fish. “We already have a buyer for that. Who knows, life may be better here,” she says.

While most Tamils in areas like Periyapillumallai and Rukam remained behind when the Tigers gained control, they too fled during heavy fighting, like those in mid-2007 – the last of the battles the Tigers fought in the east. Over 130,000 civilians fled to safer areas behind government lines in Batticaloa district.

It has been two years since Krishnan Ramanadan, a 52-year-old father of three daughters, returned to Periyapillumalai after fleeing the fighting.

He lives in a small hut with a roof of coconut leaves, and his fishing gear hangs on a tree nearby. But he has a complaint: “There are too many people fishing in the tanks now. Those days, people were too scared go fishing. Now everyone goes fishing, even those who work the paddy fields, when they don’t have work,” he says.

Despite the overcrowded fishing spots, life is looking up. Ramanadan is building a brick house, and his daughters are happy that they can now live without fear of forced conscription.

His eldest, Saroja Devi, had to abruptly end her education when her parents decided not to send her to school. In fact, they decided not let her out of the house for anything, in 2006, when the Tigers went on a forced recruitment spree and were abducting students on the way to school. “It was that bad,” Devi says.

Things have improved greatly in the last two years. There are fewer Sri Lankan soldiers and checkpoints. Public administration is slowly returning. If the dilapidated canal system is repaired, Ramanadan says, many will return to paddy cultivation.

Of course, there are still problems, including an acute shortage of housing, an abysmal public transport system, and a shortage of jobs. Officials say hundreds of war-ravaged houses need to be rebuilt, over 340 ofthem in Periyapillumallai alone. But all these problems can be sorted out, without bullets flying around.

Life is still a hard grind here. But there is now a sense of hope.

Communities that have been kept apart for decades by guns, bombs and mayhem have come together to live shoulder to shoulder – by choice or otherwise. The healing will take years, maybe generations, but it has begun.

“Maybe we can live like what it was before, like ordinary human beings, and not animals killing each other for a plot of land,” Punchibanda says

Tsunami drill in coastal areas

COLOMBO, 15 July 2010 (IRIN) – Sri Lanka completed its first ever mass tsunami evacuation drill this week. Over 14,000 people were evacuated in 14 coastal districts.

“We selected one village in each district to carry out the drill and the evacuations were orderly,” Pradeep Kodippili, assistant director for early warning at the country’s Disaster Management Centre (DMC) told IRIN.

Employing local authorities and the police, residents were alerted to the drill held on 13 July by warning towers (see box), text messages and loud speakers.

Signs erected after the 2004 Asian tsunami, including pictures, also warned residents of low-lying areas most at risk.

A month ago a 7.7 magnitude earthquake off the Nicobar Islands near Indonesia prompted the Sri Lankan authorities to issue a tsunami warning along the eastern coast.

More than 35,000 Sri Lankans lost their lives in the 2004 tsunami, which prompted moves to enhance warning systems and disaster preparedness programmes, Kodippili said.

“People are more aware that lives can be saved during a natural disaster if we pay more attention…Since the 2004 tragedy, there is a much better structure in place to deal with a sudden disaster,” he said.

The DMC was set up five months after the disaster following the enactment of the Disaster Management Act. The Act also established the National Council for Disaster Management (NCDM) with the president as chairman. The DMC has regional offices in each of the country’s 25 districts, with village-level committees as well.

Tsunami drill welcomed

Local residents – many of whom ran from their homes in the early hours during last month’s warning – welcomed the drill.

“Our entire village just ran in our night clothes,” Udyam Sujantha, a 29-year-old mother-of-two from the coastal village of Dutch Bar in the eastern district of Batticaloa said.

Sujantha almost did not survive the 2004 tsunami when she was swept away; she clung to a coconut tree before being found by relatives. Three grim memorials on the beach testify to the over 600 people in her village who were not so lucky.

More than five years on, many in coastal villages like Dutch Bar bemoan the lack of an early warning system at that time which could have saved thousands of lives.

“We didn’t know anything then… Tsunami was just another word. Now we know we have to get that word out,” another Dutch Bar resident, 45-year-old Andrado Violet who lost her mother, said.

“In 2004 the first I heard of any tsunami was when I saw a 30-foot wave crashing over the roof,” local fisherman Clarence Regimus, said.

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