Sri Lanka Journal- Andew and Annette Dey- 1/18/2005
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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.
Bensonwood.com
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Andrew
Coconut biscuits and cashews for breakfast again this morning. The man next to me purchases a single cigarette. Having ridden the buses yesterday, Annette and I are now old hands. We jump aboard the cheap bus, and find that the same trip for which we paid forty rupees yesterday costs us thirty-three rupees today.
I have traveled east on the coast road almost every day this week, and each day I notice changes. The small, neat stacks of salvaged brick are growing larger, and have been joined by piles of lumber and roof tiles. More reconstruction is now underway along the road, and more shops have opened.
The increase in number and diversity of tents is another indication of progress. Four days ago, in addition to the lean-to tarps with the UNHCR logo, there were a few clumps of canvas tents stamped “Saudi Arabia,” and an occasional lone, high-tech, bubble-like tent from the British Rotary Club. Today we see blue tents with what looks like Korean writing on the sides, erected very plumb and square. I presume that the tents imprinted with the small palm trees come from an Arab nation. We see an encampment of Dutch tents with pink roofs.
I also see my first Bobcat today, chasing a backhoe down the road. Maeve had mentioned several days ago as we passed a large loader at work, that a shipload of Bobcats would be just the ticket to tackle this mess.
We have been noticing more foreigners, and in fact I feel a twinge of something like possessiveness as a young couple wearing t-shirts, shorts, and sunglasses boards the bus in Weligama.
We arrive in Mirissa a few minutes early, and buy bananas from the same woman who sold them to us yesterday afternoon. The small ones are six rupees, and the smaller ones are three rupees. Annette finds that we can have a cup of tea in the adjacent shop. The warm, sweet tea is oddly comforting on a morning that is already hot.
At the temple, we see a large group of mostly women and children gathered
at the temple. Another of GOAL’s cash-for-work days is beginning. Teams of
five are cleaning up debris. The temple grounds are already immaculate, and now
the groups are cleaning yards in the neighborhood. Cormac cannot tell us where
all the men are, but he does let us know that Johnnie is trying to track down
a vehicle, and will probably be another half hour. Annette and I walk down to
the ocean.
Breakers are rolling onto a gorgeous beach. We settle under a clump of palms. A group of teenage boys approaches and sits on a pile of fishing nets, laughing and joking. I wonder what our coworkers back in New Hampshire would think if they could see us now.
Back at the temple, Johnie is still out. Annette and I begin taking stock of the structure of the other buildings at the temple, and discussing the design of the preschool. A monk brings us a tray with two cups of tea and two bananas. We see a woman we think is one of the teachers in the preschool, and approach her. It turns out that she is the principal of the preschool. We spend the next half hour chatting about the new preschool, and sketching a design.
Johnie finally arrives in an air conditioned van driven by a local businessman who speaks excellent English. We are off.
“We call this first camp ‘The Jungle,’” says Johnie, because that’s what it looked like before the locals cleaned it up.” We arrive at a quarter-acre clearing. “They did a great job, huh? But they are supposed to be here now. We’ll have a look anyway, and talk with the monks.” The community has donated this land to the temple. The temple in turn is willing to have a portion of the site used for the preschool. We negotiate with the head monk for space on the site.
“Will we need permission from the Divisional Secretariat to build here?” I ask. Three days ago I had never heard of a Divisional Secretariat.
“Yes, but nobody expects that to be a problem.”
We kick the dirt, and talk about grades, utilities, site work, and local
builders. Annette and I could have been on a Bensonwood site.
“There should be ten guys working here now,” says Johnie. The clearing work looks finished to me. “They were shit-hot workers the first few days, and now they’re just chilling out. Probably smoking that marijuana,” he says with a smile.
As we are leaving the site, Cormac remarks that these sages—by that I think he means the orange-robed monks—can be quite helpful in getting things accomplished.
The next temple we visit is one where I had dropped off supplies last week. Many of the temples in this area—the majority of which are Buddhist, but some of which are Hindu or Muslim—served as refuges after the tsunami, and many are now still functioning as camps for displaced people.
“We have cash-for-work operating here,” says Johnie. “That’s why you don’t see a lot of adults. And the kids are in school over there.” He points to one of the buildings.
The site designated for the preschool looks workable. The monk takes us over to see the kids in the temporary school. Our presence creates a pleasant ruckus.
Back at the van, the woman in charge of the school explains to us that because the temple serves primarily fishing families, there are not many experienced builders in the area. We can deal with this, I think to myself.
The third temple we visit had been completely chaotic when I was there just two days before. Maeve, Kanchana and I had attempted to deliver supplies, but because of the crowd that pressed up against the van, we could not be sure that the supplies could be safely unloaded. We ended up delivering them elsewhere.
Today the scene is completely different. A few small groups of women are chatting in the shade. We learn that GOAL has just set up a cash-for-work program here, and that a temporary school is now operating on the grounds.
In the foyer of the main temple building, sitting on benches that place us lower than the monks, we are served tall glasses of fresh coconut milk. We then walk over to the proposed site for the preschool. Again, nothing too complicated.
I ask our driver about the construction process. Does one person usually act as the general contractor?
“ You need head mason. He deals with all masonry. Then head carpenter. He handles carpentry. Also painter, and electrician.” It sounds as though the owner, as it were, usually contracts separately with each of these trades. “Best to get a price for all work, rather than paying by hour.”
Our driver, Shanta, is originally from this village. He suggests contacting the local municipal authorities about the planned preschools. Johnie agrees that it might be wise to keep them in the loop.
Annette and I are still eager to see the blockmaking operation that GOAL has funded, but Johnie is running out of time.
“ We’ll drop you at the temple on our way to Matara.” Does he think that he could use us to organize the construction of the preschools? “I think you two would be great, but I just need to clear it with Peter, our Team Leader.”
The temple with the blockmaking operation reminds me of a country club. It is built on a gorgeous promontory of land that was high enough to be spared damage in the tsunami. Neat rows of palm trees stretch down toward the sea. As we walk up the long driveway, we see that a high-tech water filtration system has been set up at a well. The equipment labels are all in German. As we near that top of the hill, I hear music. It is being piped from loudspeakers mounted to the utility poles.
The blockmaking operation is not far from the main temple buildings. The set-up includes five machines that each form two blocks at a time. They are under corrugated metal roofs. A tank on a tower feeds water to the operation. Sand is being dumped from a trailer. A ten-wheel truck is trying to negotiate an exit through the palm trees. Rows of blocks are spread out in the sun to dry. We are told that each machine can form two thousand blocks per day.
As we approach the temple buildings, a monk comes out to meet us. It turns out that he runs the temple.
“ Who do you work for?” he asks us, and “What can you do for me?” I think he is serious. When we mention our interest in possibly replicating the blockmaking operation closer to Galle, he informs us that the person who knows the most about the operation is away at the moment.
“ Have you considered coir?” he asks with a smile. I had read about coir in the guidebook. Fibers from the husks of coconuts? We encourage him to tell us more. He produces photocopied sheet of paper with line items written in Sinhala, and prices.
“ Coir operation in village destroyed. Employed many women. These things needed to start again.” He describes several of the line items—equipment to remove the coir from the husks, machines to spin it, material costs from the husks themselves.
“ What’s this item at the bottom for seven lahks?” I ask, trying to sound knowledgeable. One lahk equals 100,000 rupees, or about US$1,000.
“ We need a transport system. That’s a truck.”
This monk is not the only one we have met who is approaching tsunami relief efforts with an entrepreneurial spirit. I want to believe that the head monks of the temples are placing the highest priority on the welfare of the villagers, but at times they seem opportunistic. We tell him that we will bring his proposal back to our organization, by which we mean Project Galle 2005.
That evening Annette and I ride a tuk-tuk into Galle. We notice that the new wall being built at the pink hotel on the beach has been demolished. Curious. We pass a truck bearing a banner that reads “Hare Krishna, Food for Life.” At the internet café, a young, preppy-looking foreigner sits at the computer next to me. His t-shirt says “Volunteer Minister.” I learn that he is a Scientologist. He leaves a stack of papers on the counter of the internet café, inviting people to a “Free One Day Seminar on Trauma Relief” at the town hall in Galle. Everyone has an angle on the disaster.