WAVES OF CHANGE
I was a week late arriving home that Christmas, finally making it to Colombo on the night of 25th December 2004. Waking up all groggy on Boxing Day, I was wondering why everybody at home was glued to the idiot box at 10 a.m. “Some strong ocean waves have hit several coastal areas. Helicopters are buzzing around and filming these areas” our domestic informed me.
By late afternoon, I realized that the situation was intense. This time round, nature had made an odd diversion, striking erratically — a tide from some obscure cosmic insanity.
My strong desire to do a recce flight over the devastated areas became a reality when at 0500 on the 27th morning my professor Dr Hemantha Wickramatillake called me to check if I can prepare for a flight to the East coast that morning.
Soon we were airborne. The Baron 55 4R-DAA was overhead Batticaloa approximately 40 minutes later and descending low to 200 feet. Going beyond numb in the face of tragedy I concentrated on flying. Clutching at the controls, I banked over the Kallady bridge and tracked coastal to Pottuvil, Arugam Bay and Yala National Park maintaining 200 feet all the way; so that Prof Wicks could sketch the devastated areas — for relief and recovery strategy. The tragedy was so colossal for a small country like us.
We did a few more recce flights in the first week of January 2005, covering the South-East and Western coastal areas. Most of our passengers were local and foreign NGOs workers. The rest of January I dabbled in writing ‘Grant Seeking’ proposals for NGOs. Fundraising was their main task.
In February 2005, we drove eight hours to the disaster-hit areas in the East. That was my first trip by road. We paused quite a bit as we reached the coastal area.
What is the definition of tragedy? What are its known contours? What are its measurements? A sense of powerlessness engulfed us as we drifted along. One can see the magnitude of the tragedy but can only imagine the pathos it may have produced. We drove past twisted motor vehicles, clothes and furniture caught in the branches of tall trees, broken walls. The stench from the indefinable muck oozing from ripped open cesspits was horrid.
Most people in Sri Lanka had never heard the word “tsunami” before that fateful day on December 26, 2004. The majority could not even begin to comprehend the what, how and why of such a disaster, and so, they had watched in horror as the tremendous waves embraced their homes and livelihoods.
[Of course, we Sri Lankans understand tragedy, both man-made and otherwise and we have suffered immensely as a people. The prolonged ethnic conflict ensured that!]
By now, everybody had shifted into top gear providing food, clothing, medicine and shelter — the key needs of any disaster situation. Lankans had risen to the occasion, magnificently, putting aside all differences and chipping in to do the best they can for the survivors. Hundreds of vehicles carrying the generosity of a people mourning, trudged past us.
Teams of doctors and medicines were moved to the affected areas, to treat the more visible injuries on the human body. But clearly the damage was not merely of a material kind. Serious psychological issues needed to be addressed.
Tragedy always brings out the best in us. And the worst. Concerns and sorrow at the suffering and loss of fellow-human beings produced a sense of giving and sharing as tremendous as the waves that took away our landscapes and lives. It was a sense of solidarity that is hardly ever seen in Sri Lanka.
We set up a medical base in Amparai, to respond quickly and adequately to the medical needs along the coastal areas. I began work at the Sainthumaruthu refugee camp, my first in the list. The camp was just thirty minutes away from our base.
I had no prior experience in disaster management or community health, but had heard the term ‘Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder’ (PTSD). Totally lost in the surging waves of incomprehension, my Public Health adventures began — with a string of challenges.
Doing my bit to streamline the relief effort, I initially engaged in a comprehensive ‘Needs Assessment’ exercise. This ‘on-the-job’ training as a public health worker, brought me into contact with committed state employees (than state agencies) who with their indefatigable energy, had risen to the occasion.
Also, I unexpectedly created a strategic alliance with ladies of the Liberation Tamil Tiger ladies who were positioned at several camps in Akkaraipattu, Sainthumaruthu, Thirukkovil and Pottuvil. The rebel women were a vital support in the disaster relief operation mostly because their intricate web of ethics and morals ensured an efficient relief operation — with minimum resources wasted.
Before long, without realizing it, I had become a volunteer of the UN-OCHA, with ‘Prof. Wicks’ leading the team in Sri Lanka.
At most refugee camps, there were two distinct groups. There were those whose lives were not really that much worse before the Tsunami hit them. It was easy to help this group. Then there were those who had decent enough lives and thus found it humiliating to live in a refugee camp and seek assistance. It is while dealing with the latter that I learnt to give — without bruising a person’s dignity.
Mass tragedy and confusion always works to the advantage of the mischief-maker. I too began to get sensitized to the racketeers who came my way in many forms. Hellions from all over Sri Lanka were having a field day in the South. These thieves had nothing to pick from abandoned poor homes. So, they were posing as refugees inside the camps, to grab whatever they can.
Some crooks had ‘hired’ a few refugees and put-up signs saying ‘Refugee Camp’. Rations that were meant for the needy were conveniently scooped off by these racketeers wanting to make a quick buck.
In the meantime, the drug dealers were homing in, targeting the depressed and the vulnerable. They were like a virus. The culprits enter the camps unperceived, flow with the system, and harm the refugees from within.
And then there were the NGO racketeers. Unscrupulous characters from well-known as well as lesser-known NGOs would approach me and offer large sums of cash to place their name boards in our work areas. Fortunately, our team-work ethics outweighed the impact of this profiteering.
Thirty thousand were dead, thousands homeless and the threat of communicable disease was a stiff challenge. Nevertheless, we continued to work, until livelihoods were recovered. It took us ten years to create conditions for monumental change, using creative yet simple tools to help these people pick up what’s left of their lives.
After five years of On-the-Job training in Post Tsunami work, I took time off to read for my Master in Public Health — a considerable departure from my degree in Business Administration and Aviation. I’ve never looked back since.
