In
any other year, 31 December would be a special time in Sri Lanka.
Just as in other countries, people gather in their homes, in
hotels, on beaches and roof tops to welcome in the New Year.
Sri Lankans like to party, and New Year’s Eve is the perfect
occasion to enjoy themselves. But not this year.
There is darkness in the capital, Colombo, and little traffic.
The hotels that should be bustling with life are empty, save
for a collection of journalists and aid workers. The firecrackers,
ice-cream sellers and musical bands who would normally brighten
up this event are missing.
Sadness is written all over the faces of the islanders. This
is not a day of celebration but of mourning. The world has joined
the people of Sri Lanka and the other countries hit by the tsunami
on 26 December in mourning for the dead, the injured and displaced.
Religious ceremonies are held, lamps are lit, friends and foes
have united. There is unity in sorrow and in grief
The total death toll from the earthquake and tidal waves is
some 123,000 people. Over 27,000 of these were in Sri Lanka.
The seafront Galle Face, where year after year poor and rich,
mighty and beggars gather to herald the New Year, is covered
by a dark cloud.
The sea starts singing as if nothing has happened. It’s
just another day for the sea.
I ask it: “What have you done? Where have you hidden all
those children? Why did you get angry? Who made you do this?
And Why? Why?”
The sea does not answer. But, the sea breeze wraps my body and
my soul with sadness. I think of the greetings I sent to my
friends before coming to the island on holiday to see my mother.
I wrote to everyone:
“Beauty of a Dancing Breeze,
Shady Trees,
Calming Seas,
And the Runaway Ribbons
of Moments Free... To Just be
is My Wish to you all”
Many of my friends envied me for going back to the island. A
friend from chilly Switzerland wrote “We envy you. What
a way to spend your holiday”
It was not to be. My holiday was gone as I rushed to join my
colleagues working for the International Red Cross and Sri Lanka
Red Cross. Everyone is working round the clock: schoolchildren
and housewives, doctors and nurses, tourists and diplomats.
They all have come together. No-one has had much sleep, but
no-one is complaining. I felt bad when I was reminded of my
birthday on the 29th. How could we celebrate when people are
dead and dying, when we have lost friends and relatives.
Some friends wanted to help, but were helpless because they
could not do more. It was different for me – I am able
to do my bit through the Red Cross, letting the world’s
media know what my country has faced. I know that the more they
know, the more help comes to my island in the sun ravaged by
the sea.
E-mails have poured in to my computer screen from all over the
world, from friends telling me how they had cried for the people
of Sri Lanka. Some couldn’t believe that the places they
have visited had been wrecked by the very sea they loved. Every
time I received an email, I had tears in my eyes, tears I always
wanted to hide.
But, what makes me happy is that love and affection are pouring
towards this broken island.
Before I turn away, I tell the sea I love: “Sea, Remember,
every time the world hears the sound of your waves, they will
now hear screams, the screams of the young, innocent, frail,
sad. Why?”
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Communities
in Sri Lanka, such as here in Galle, have been traumatised
by the tsunami, which struck on 26 December (p-LKA0085)
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The
level of destruction in Sri Lanka’s coastal regions
is enormous. More than 27,000 people have lost their lives
in the tragedy (p-LKA0113)
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Sri
Lankan Red Cross volunteers administer first aid to displaced
people in a camp in Galle (p12343)
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A
man stands amid the ruins of his home in Galle. Around
one million people have been displaced on the island as
a result of the disaster (p12239)
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