Community: Real Life

Talking to the locals


Sarah

Sarah White (28) works for the UK Government Department for International Development (DFID). She writes about returning to Sri Lanka for a "holiday" after witnessing the Boxing Day Tsunami first hand.
Entry: 4
Date: 12/10/2005

Back in Sri Lanka, Sarah talks to the victims of the tsunami and discovers she can help them.

Destruction from the tsunami

The remains of the Primrose cafe

Preshan was so surprised to see me again but delighted I had demonstrated faith in Sri Lanka by returning for a holiday.

Suddenly, I was desperate to see the Thaproban, my former hotel, which lost its front room and all its ground floor furniture to the tsunami. And there it was - not only completely restored, so well that you would never have realised my friends' room had been washed away with all their belongings, but looking better than ever. Repainted, new furniture and the beach garden rebuilt with a smart new wall.

Preshan was so positive - not only had the tsunami inspired them to make the hotel better than ever before, but the community had worked together to rebuild and clean up the beach; organise regular litter collections and even raise funds for a community centre. I agreed - Unawatuna was more beautiful than before and I saw how some good had emerged from such an awful event. Yet, tsunami scars were everywhere. The remains of the sign to the "Primrose Café" poking out of the sand, no café in sight; a slab of concrete buried in the beach, once a roof of a restaurant; and the shell of the house next door to the Thaproban, with no sides or roof, where three people lost their lives. I was impressed how despite the pain and loss evident everywhere, Unawatuna was determined to move on and see the positive.

"Listening to people's stories in Unawatuna made me realise that I could help in a way I hadn't anticipated. I could listen to people who perhaps felt uncomfortable sharing their feelings with each other."
A scene from Sri Lanka

Life goes on for locals

Then, the most unexpected thing happened. One by one the hotel employees came up to me and said: "You were here. You were in room no. 7 when the wave came". I really didn't expect them to remember me out of the thousands of tourists. Yet not only did they remember me, they wanted to tell me their individual stories of how they survived the tsunami. Kumodee kicked a hole in his roof to escape, as the waters surged around his neck. He pulled one lady from the torrent to safety but was too late to save another who drowned. Dia, who normally parked his tuk tuk by the beach looking for customers, was saved because unusually business had taken him into the hills that day. Even the local roti (pancake) seller shared his story - he had run for his life but his friend had been sucked back by the water and drowned. His other friend returned to his home around the bay, to find his house completely destroyed, his wife and children lost.

Everyone I spoke to had lost loved ones, yet again were so unbelievably positive. I shared Kumodee's reflection that it had been so reassuring to see that in a moment of intense suffering, fear and need, human beings of all nationalities had come together, to help one another as fellow human beings. Survivors of all nationalities and wealth had shared food, water, clothes, shoes, medicine and support. In contrast I was so saddened to hear tales from Hurricane Katrina of how survivors feared for their safety from each other in the USA.

Listening to people's stories in Unawatuna made me realise that I could help in a way I hadn't anticipated. I could listen to people who perhaps felt uncomfortable sharing their feelings with each other or perhaps felt they had exhausted each others' willingness to listen. They kept saying: "You understand. You were here". While I had not experienced the suffering and loss that they had, I realised that returning and showing I wanted to visit Unawatuna meant so much to these people. That's when I really realised I was so glad I had returned.


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