Sri Lanka Journal- Andew and Annette Dey- 1/17/2005
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Links from Andrew and Annette:
Pro Photographer Dixie's web site
Mondo Challenge set up Andrew and Annette's trip.
Unawatuna is the village where they're staying and working
In the north, Andrew and Annette are working with Norwegian People's Aid. NPAID is partnered with the German organization called Arbeiter Samariter Bund.
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We arrived by van in Unawatuna a couple of days ago. The village had been struck hard by the wave. More than half of all buildings were completely destroyed. The demolished homes and shops (small) seem to generally have been built of masonry and concrete blocks without any reinforcement nor any other shear resistant attachment to even the foundations. The foundations (as far as they had been existing in the first place) are typically still in place. Also it appears that many of those lower quality buildings might have used cement/sand ratios for the mortar as low as 1/10.
As we talk to local Sri Lankans, European expatriates and relief volunteers we are learning many sad stories about personal losses, but also about amazing rescues. Luckily for the village there are two large rock formations, one at each end of the 'main street', upon which most people - who could - climbed. It was also fortunate that the waves (the first one at 9.20am, the second around 11am and the third smaller one at about 2pm) came during the day and on a national holiday, as most stores and the schools were closed and not too many people were working on the beach. However, most people who happened to be on the beach when the wave came, did not have much of a chance to escape. Supposedly many of the local people cannot swim.
The main path through the village had been cleared of the larger debris since the flood and Annie (another Mondo volunteer) had managed to get a contractor from Colombo to the village who has been going around to pump out the wells. The open canals are still a potential danger, as they have not been cleaned out yet. It appears to be very difficult to get any big equipment hired as these are needed everywhere along the coastline. Also most of the rubble remains right on the small plots and along the side of the road as nobody knows where to bring it (even, if sufficient numbers of bulldozers and trailers were available and paid for).
There are several smaller locally formed organizations as well as non-profit and government organizations (of various nations) constantly at work, trying to organize short-term relief and long term reconstruction. The first effort is complicated by lack of communication between the different organizations (some refugee camps get provided by several organizations while others are falling through the cracks. Many camps are not officially registered and are therefore only on the radar of some small local organizations like the 'Galle Project', as locals call in and point out the locations of these camps.So it happened that the government count of refugee camps in the Galle area amounts to 11, while the 'Galle Project' has been providing about 40 camps with food, latrines, cookers, etc. Also while local relief organizations constantly try to get supplies from towns in non-affected areas in Sri Lanka, the international organizations get most supplies from overseas and therefore have to get them through a tiresome and slow customs process in Colombo. During the first few days after the flood, when food and other supplies where most deserately needed and nothing could be got locally, the workers of an Austrian government funded relief organization, who arrived in Galle almost immediatly after the catastrophe, grew so desperate about helplessly waiting for the release of goods that they had brought on their airplane, that they went back up to Colombo one night and stole part of their load out of the custom warehouse.
The desire for instant rebuilding is much hampered by Government regulations. The land along the seaboard is typically government owned. However, during the last decade, as toursim had grown wildly, many villagers have been adopting local policies of letting people build on the public land, closer and closer to the water. In fact, the beach of Unawatuna has been reduced to a relatively narrow strip due to the encroaching shops, guest houses, restaurants and fishermen's shacks as well as ongoing beach erosion. Unawatuna has over time acquired the reputation of being a layed back and low-key tourist destination. The fact that people used to sit on the beach with their feet in the water while enjoying food and drinks that was being served from the restaurants had become part of Unawatuna's particular charm.
However, several years ago, the government started to take note of the tendancy for illegal construction on public beaches and they issued a law according to which no construction was allowed within 100m of the vegetation line along the waterfront. This law had never been enforced (except in single cases of political opposition). Now that 90 percent of the seaside buildings have been destroyed by the tsunami, the government sees a chance to follow through on the 100m building restriction distance requirement. This is a topic of many ongoing discussions. The fishermen, home and restaurant owners, whose buildings were close to the beach, sit on the trashed building lots that never were legally theirs and wonder for endless hours what the future will bring them.
At this point most all of the dead bodies have been found and buried, although it is expected that several more might be found when the canals get drenched. The official count of people who drowned in the flood or were captured in collapsed buildings amounts to about 40,000. However, in the days following the tsunami many villagers were finding stranded corpses on their property. As they could not deal with the devastating view nor handle the smell until the official agencies were available to pick up the dead, many property owners just dug holes and buried the victims right in place. Most of those dead were never accounted for, if they could not be identified by their undertakers.
While most foreigners have meanwhile managed to more or less move on with their lives - helping with the relief efforts or getting their own houses cleaned up and posessions sorted out -, many of the local people seem to be traumatized still. While from the outside apparently coping with their losses surprisingly well, their minds remain quite unsettled.
" It's all the dead bodies" our host explains to us, as his wife comes running into the dining room once again, blurting out "Me frightened".
" I myself knew just a few of the people who died, but Radshika is basically related to half the village. She has known most of the dead. The vision of the dead bodies is hauting the local people much more than us" he continues. Radshika, like many people here cannot be talked into using her bedroom on the first floor again. She can only sleep "upstairs", she says.
Differing from the usual habit in these latitudes of closing the window shutters during the day to keep the heat out and opening them at night to let air in, she now has to have all shutters in the house tightly shut at night.
Another reason that the villagers cannot settle down is that there are ongoing rumours about a possible return of the tsunami.
" She asks, whether YOU think another wave will come?", translates the husband of a rather charming young woman in a sari. We are standing inside the entry door of his guest house, peeking out at the pile of rubble that used to be their home.
" Myself would move into guest house and work. Start rebuild house" he explains. "But wife scared. She don't want sleep here. So we stay with relatives on hill."
The few people, who are staying in the village at night, are ready to run for their lives at any sign of alarm. Two nights ago we woke from the screaming and shouting of groups of people in the streets and neighbouring houses. This apparently woke the other people who are staying at our guest house and in turn there was running and shouting upstairs and next door. The noise of people running by and dogs howling with fear (dutifully joined by the terrier Max upstairs) convinced us that it was time to jump out of bed and somewhat hastily into some clothes. We tried to appear reasonably gathered when we met our host, Mally, outside the house and inquired simultaneously "What is going on?"
" Just another panic" he grumbled. "People are out their minds. Somebody hears something and tells the next person that there is another wave coming. Next thing you know, they are all running up the hill."
" Sea is really load", protested Radshika somewhat sheepishly. Indeed, the sound of waves breaking on the beach could be heard more clearly than in other nights. After some discussion what to do, Mally convinced everybody in the house to go back to bed. Andrew seemed to fall asleep effortlessly, but I lay awake for a while.
During the last five days we have been touching base with several aid organizations. We attended a meeting that was conducted by the Unawatuna unit of Sewelanka, a large organization that covers the whole southwest coast. They have been trying to come up with a master plan for the reconstruction of Unawatuna, which shall get presented to the government in Colombo on Monday. We also dropped off two loads of clothes for distribution at the Unawatuna headquarter of Sewelanka.
The last three days we have spent delivering food and other urgently needed supplies to various camps in the area under the umbrella of the 'Galle Project', which has its headquarters at the Galle Fort (quite sensible structures these forts - this one has served its habitants once again rather effectively.)
The successful distribution of supplies largely depends on the organization of the individual camp. A weak monk heading up the temple that is harbouring a camp, a missing secure storage room or a hopeless ratio of 'supply amount/desperate people' can turn a crowd of smiling children and devout men and women - bowing their heads thankfully towards the relief workers - into a looting mob. Also as in any popluation there are opportunists who would rather see themselves provided for months to come than sharing a grain of rice with their neighbor today.
Overall it appears that the food supply situation is mostly under control these days. Groups of people are starting to move back into what is left of their homes, or tents on the foundations of the former. Many of them still come back to the temples and mosques for food supplies in the evening. Others make due with the food ration cards that the government has started to give out to people who are living in destroyed homes.
Unfortunately many people do not have any good prospects for the near future, as their lifelyhood depended on tourism or fishing. While several organizations are trying to organize and distribute replacement fishing boats (rather modern - most fishermen around here only know how to use the old fashioned outrigger boats), it is generally expected that this year's 'big tourist season' which had just started at Christmas is not going to take place.
Today Andrew and I are off to Martara, a town about an hour and half from here - by public transportation (which is the fastest, as buses race each other along the road in order to get first to the customers waiting at the next bus stop). We are planning to check out some of the long term relief operations that the Irish organization GOAL has started to set up there and see, if one or the other could be implemented in this area as well.
Andrew Dey
Annette is hoping for a substantial breakfast this morning, something we have yet to see here along the coast. We walk to Unawatuna to try out the internet café. At the store across the street, the closest thing to breakfast is coconut biscuits and cashews. Not exactly what she had in mind.
The internet café is dark and reeks of mold. Three old (Patrick would say “ancient”) computers are lined up on a table against the back wall of the room. The woman who greets us tells us that she used to have an internet café on the beach. I recalled what our friend Annie had told us about that particular internet café:
“I saw the wave hit, and I knew that there were about six people inside. I was sure they all would die, but as the building collapsed, the people inside somehow ended up swimming in the water.”
After spending a couple of hours typing on handicapped keyboards, we call it quits. I reach the folks from GOAL, and we plan to meet them at 1 p.m. in Mirissa.
The bus is our best option to get to Mirissa, although having seen how the buses hurtle along the main road, we did not make this decision lightly. I plant myself at the bus stop and wonder why Annette is crossing the road, until I remember that the vehicles here drive, at least ostensibly, on the left. The first bus to come along turns out to be the small, air conditioned, expensive variety, but we are not going to debate about fifty cents. We grab the two open seats, and find to our relief that the driver, although fast, does not appear to have a death wish.
Having been to the village of Mirissa three times in the past week, I am getting to know it well. There’s not much to it. A few stores, a small hospital, several Buddhist temples tucked away on side streets, and a beautiful beach. As we walk down a side street, and a boy calls out to us.
“You give pen.”
We enter the temple grounds just as two foreigners and two Sri Lankans are emerging from a van. The foreigners introduce themselves. Johnie (he spells it for me apologetically) looks like he starred for the ruby team in school. Louise is wearing a GOAL t-shirt, her sunglasses pushed up on her head. She carries a clipboard. We see that Cormac has already gathered at a makeshift table with a half a dozen locals and two monks. We join them, and Johnie launches in.
“Here’s what we’d like to do. You had a preschool here, right? We’d like to rebuild it. We’ll also build what we call a safe play area, like a giant sand box, and a covered area for protection from the rain and sun. We’ll use all local labor and materials, and we’ll pay for everything. We’ll also provide school supplies to get started, and we’ll pay the first month’s salary for the teachers.”
He sees raised eyebrows.
“For the first month. Then we’ll review the situation, and pay longer if necessary. Our goal is to get this preschool to be community-supported again as quickly as possible. The construction will take a couple of weeks. Do you have a space that could be used in the meantime for a temporary school?”
Much discussion. Finally everyone agrees on one of the empty buildings on the temple grounds.
“Great. Can you get the teachers here tomorrow to start teaching again?”
More discussion, and a decision that the day after tomorrow would allow more time to get the word out to local families. I am impressed by Johnie’s confidence, and by the resources that he apparently has at his disposal.
There are two possible locations for the preschool. One is the former site, where all that is left is the slab. The other is among palm trees toward the back of the temple. When Johnie wonders whether the existing slab is adequate for the new building, I interject that Annette is a structural engineer.
“Brilliant!” says Louise. “We’ve had the hardest time getting engineers here. Let’s go have a look.” As we walk over, Johnie explains what they are trying to accomplish.
“The government says it’s taking care of primary and secondary schools. There’s a long tradition of private preschools in Sri Lanka. We’re trying to get them up and running again in the affected areas. You’ve seen the camps? Some have over a hundred kids running wild. The parents can’t go back to work if the kids don’t have a place to go.
“So far we’ve identified eight locations around Matara where preschools were destroyed, and I know there are lots of others. We’d love for you to take a look at some of these sites. What organization did you say you were with?”
“Uh, we are sort of free-lancing at the moment, but we have been working with Project Galle. They are based in the Fort.”
The foundation of the preschool that was destroyed is in questionable shape. The site at the rear of the temple has more space for the play area. We all agree to focus on the second site. We learn that Johnie has been working in Kosovo, and Louise has come in from Africa. They hope to get the preschool projects rolling in the coming weeks, before they have to return to their other assignments. Johnie invites us to accompany them tomorrow on a tour of the other preschool sites. We agree to meet at 9:15.
Annette and I catch one of the larger, local buses back to Unawatuna. The two doors on the side stay open all the time, and the bus stops fully only for elderly people or at the larger bus stations. When we learned that the bus drivers are paid in proportion to the number of passengers carried, their driving style made more sense.
We survive the trip, wash up in our room, and catch a tuk-tuk into into Galle. Annette is still trying to buy cooler clothes. I sit outside on the stoop while she looks at skirts. The man in the building next door catches my eye.
“See here?” he says, pointing to the wall inside his shop. I see a waterline about ten feet above the level of the street. “Tsunami.”
I have noticed that people are fond of pointing out their “waterlines.” Unlike on the 26th, today higher is better. Annette doesn’t have any luck in the store. We climb back into the waiting tuk-tuk, and head over to the Galle Fort. Annette drops me off there for a meeting, and heads back to Unawatuna.
It’s the daily wrap-up meeting of Project Galle 2005. I have been asked to attend to report on what I learned from the GOAL folks. Project Galle is discussing whether to initiate similar programs in the Galle area. I enter a tastefully appointed room with artwork on the walls. The space would have been filled with smoke if it were not open to a central courtyard. I see several large bottles of Lion Lager amidst the papers on the table. I am parched. As all the chairs are full, I take a seat on the cool stone floor.
Oliver is chairing the meeting. I realize that he is skilled at running meetings, but he still reminds me of a playboy. We hear reports from field ops, the warehouse, the web site, and finance. Finally Oliver turns to me.
“ Andrew?”
I report on GOAL’s preschool initiative, and their cash for work program. I also mention that I see in their organization the same risk that I see for Project Galle—that the people who have been here since the tsunami now have to get back to their jobs and families, potentially leaving a vacuum of knowledge and experience. Oliver thanks me solicitously for my report, and says that on the basis of it, Project Galle heartily embraces Annette and me.
“ Does that mean I can have a beer now?”
“ They’re in the fridge,” says Oliver with a smile. “And bring a few more for us.”
The meeting continues with a discussion of “going home” kits. These are the kits that will be given to families as they leave the camps and head back to the remains of their homes. Becky mentions that the US military is offering 300 mattresses—“but the people here sleep on mats.” At this point a large man who has been sitting at the edge of the room rises. He is in his fifties, and something other than his age commands respect.
“ I am here on behalf of the group Concern.” I learn later that this is a huge Irish NGO. “We have been providing support to you folks, and I am here to see what you’ve been up to. Because we are such a large organization, we need a paper trail for all the money. I’ll be here for a few days working with you.” He then adds, “A quick comment about the ‘going home’ kits. It’s important to include only what will be used. If people here don’t sleep on mattresses, then they’ll end up as rubbish on the side of the road.”
After the meeting, I ride in a tuk-tuk back to Unawatuna. The headlight works intermittently. I comfort myself with the thought that this vehicle is probably marginally safer than the bicycles we are passing—none of which have lights.
At our guest house, Mally and Rajit have invited Ajit and Sharoni for dinner. They own the guest house on the beach where Annie was staying on the 26th. Remarkably, the guest house sustained only minor damage, although several of the guests died.
Mally has spent the day in Colombo. He had been nominated at the community meeting earlier in the week to be part of the group that would present the Unawatuna master plan to the tourist board.
“ They shot us down,” he says dejectedly. “Said that if they made an exception for Unawatuna, then every community would want one.” One of the main issues is the building setback distance from the shoreline. Any previous setbacks had never been enforced. Before the tsunami, Unawatuna had many restaurants, guesthouses, and shops right on the beach. The news we have been getting about the setback is unclear, but the distance we hear most often is one hundred meters.
“ So all the buildings left within one hundred meters will be torn down?” asks Annette incredulously.
“ All that do not have tourist board approval,” says Mally.
Ajit clarifies: “That means all in Unawatuna. Tourist board make it hard for small guy to get approval. Tsunami take away everything inside my guest house, and now government going to take the building too!”