Sri Lanka Journal- Andew and Annette Dey: 2/18/2005

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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

Andrew

We have at least two reasons to travel to Unawatuna for the weekend. One is to check on the progress of the playground wall at the temple. We have entrusted a local hotel owner, Sassi, to oversee the project in our absence. Another is to get a break from our work in the north. We have worked long hours every day since arriving three weeks before, and we are in need of time to relax and recharge. NPA gives us the option of flying to Colombo and driving from there, or making the entire trip by car. We opt to fly. Although the overall travel time for the flying option is only a couple of hours shorter than for driving, we know how grueling the drive is.

The airport serving the north of Sri Lanka is located in the town of Jaffna, on the northern peninsula that is mostly under the control of the Sri Lankan army. Since the camps where we are working are only a short distance off the main road to Jaffna, we stop on the way to the airport to lay out the locations of another group of ten shelters. Our hope is that if additional layout is needed while we are gone, the locals who have been working with us will be able to manage on their own.

Tony has tapped Lingam to drive us to the airport. The choice is based not only on Lingam’s exceptional driving skills; he is also the person, in Tony’s opinion, who will best be able to “talk our way” across the border if any issues arise. Suda, the leader of the task force overseeing the camp construction, has described Lingam as “the worst kind of Tamil bandit.” With his long mustache, he looks the part. Lingam had mentioned to us that in the mid-nineties, he had spent six months in Sri Lankan government prisons under suspicion of being part of the LTTE. When we asked him whether he was treated decently in prison, he chuckled and rolled up his sleeve to reveal numerous small round scars: “cigarettes.” We later learned that before Lingam drove for NPA, he drove for the Sri Lankan Red Cross, and before that, he was a gang leader in Jaffna. What sort of gang?

“Marriage counseling. Someone come to us with problem, we meet with interfering relatives - smooth things over.”

Lingam helps us to lay out the shelters, but only to get us on the road sooner. The look he gives us as we stretch tape measures from one corner to the other seems to say “Only mad dogs and English men…” After finishing the hot, dusty work, we climb into the Land Cruiser and head north.

We have heard that the northern border crossing between the LTTE controlled Vanni region and the Jaffna district is less rigorous than the border to the south. We are essentially waved through the first two checkpoints, manned by the Tamil Tigers. Lingam points to a sticker on the windshield granting us special permission from the LTTE to cross the border.

We then travel through a “no man’s land” of several kilometers. This stretch is administered by the International Red Cross. The final checkpoint is controlled by the Sri Lankan Army. Lingam stops our car, grabs some papers, and brings them over to the two soldiers in the guard booth. I see a list of NGOs posted on the wall behind the soldiers, and note that NPA is on the list. One of the soldiers comes over to talk with us.

“Where are you going?”

To Jaffna, to fly to Colombo.

“What organization are you working for?”

We tell him Norwegian People’s Aid, NPA.

“How many branches does NPA have in Sri Lanka, and where are they located?”

We struggle. Colombo, Kilinochchi, maybe Trincomale…To our relief, Lingam appears and takes over the negotiation in rapid-fire Tamil. Moments later we are underway again.

The Sri Lankan army is well-entrenched on the northern side of the border. Every five hundred meters or so, we pass a bunker occupied by soldiers armed with automatic rifles. We also pass signs indicating camps for various branches of the military—the army, military police, engineers.

The military installations eventually give way to residential areas. In the first town that we enter north of the border, we encounter a road block that Lingam is not able to talk his way through. A bridge is being rebuilt further along on the main road. We turn onto the detour, a smaller road perpendicular to the main road. Lingam checks his watch, and puts the hammer down.

In the States, Lingam’s normal mode of driving would generally be considered fast and, to the uninitiated, reckless. On the long detour that brings us eventually around into Jaffna town, he reveals an entirely new level of what can generously be described as driving expertise. Lingam Schuhmacher, indeed. My guess is that he does not really care all that much whether or not we make our plane, but rather that he is offended by the roadblock, and on principle, he wants to ensure that it does not cause us to lose much time.

We rush into the travel agency, fork over 17,000 rupees for our two round-trip tickets, jump back into the car, and head for the airport. Jaffna is a blur. When Lingam is not leaning on the horn, he is checking his watch. We notice that he does not honk quite so loudly when passing police cars. We spend most of our time staring straight ahead, wondering by how much we are going to miss hitting the next motorcyclist or tuc-tuc. As we leave Jaffna and enter the town of Palaly, we begin to see signs for “civilian air travel.”

The airport is located in a high-security zone controlled by the Sri Lankan military. We pull up to a checkpoint that is not unlike the ones we passed through when we left the Vanni. Signs in Tamil, Singhala, and English warn of the consequences of unauthorized entry. Lingam brings our paperwork to the guards in a small hut. A young soldier approaches the car carrying a large mirror with wheels and a long, pivoting handle. He uses it to inspect the undercarriage. He then tells us “baggage check.” No, it’s not the Sri Lankan army’s version of curbside check-in. We carry our small knapsack, a satchel, and our laptop computer to the hut. A male soldier checks my satchel and the computer. He looks carefully at the sat phone which I have forgotten to leave at the job site. A female soldier arrives to check Annette’s knapsack. Lingam waits just outside the hut, smoking and checking his watch.

Our reward for passing the baggage inspection is to have a soldier climb into the front seat of the car. He and Lingam chat casually as we proceed toward the airstrip. We pass shell after empty shell of houses in what I am guessing was a residential area before the war. My eyes catch on a spray of purple flowers erupting from the remains of one house. Bunkers are everywhere. We pass barracks, outside of which soldiers are relaxing in the shade. Several trucks and buses filled with soldiers pass us headed in the opposite direction. We see a tractor pulling a trailer full of seated soldiers.

I recall having heard that in the late nineties at the international airport serving Colombo, the Tigers staged an audacious, crippling attack on the Sri Lankan air force and national airlines. A Singhalese publication described it as “Sri Lanka’s Pearl Harbor.” No wonder, then, the high security at this airport.

Eventually we arrive at a long, low building, outside of which well-dressed travelers are seated under a pavilion. Lingam and our chaperoning soldier bid us farewell. A short wait, two baggage checks, and a body pat-down later, we are seated in a pleasantly-appointed waiting room. I cannot see the airstrip. Our fellow travelers appear to be a mix of NGO “internationals” and well-off Sri Lankans. We chat with a surgeon who was born in Jaffna and emigrated to London. He returns frequently to Sri Lanka because he is building a clinic near Jaffna.

A dusty bus—the “Twinnkle Star”—arrives to take us to the plane. Like most of the buses we have been on, this one has a shrine arrayed around the driver. Gold-colored Hindu figurines are joined by Jesus Christ amidst bouquets of plastic flowers. A blow-up 747 bobs from the rear-view mirror. The dashboard is covered with what looks like a Yeti pelt.

We pass an earthen berm and see our plane—the only plane—on the airstrip. It has two propellers and it looks serviceable. Moments later we have tucked ourselves into our seats and the plane is headed down the runway. Visions of the south—fresh salads, king coconuts, inviting beaches—dance through my mind as we take to the air.