8 - TRAVEL INTERVIEWS, PART I

RAJJIPURA, A CAMP FOR A COMMUNITY DISPLACED BY THE TSUNAMI. 26 February. This report is from the road. I’ve been invited to travel to several of the affected areas. About sixty people, mostly woman and babies, wait in a school building near their tents for the distribution of food items and clothing. Seated on the cool cement floor, some of the women fan themselves while others watch their little ones. They are feeling settled and safe in this camp maybe 10 kilometers from their coastline home town, torn apart by the massive wave.

This camp, like most others has been visited by scores of well wishers from the city bringing gifts of food and household needs, kettles, pans. Trucks from a local aluminum processing company brought in cots while we were there – donations sponsored by an international NGO named “shore to shore” It was gladdening to see the joy in the faces of those who handed over these gifts.

Discussion centered on fear the ocean and dread a recurrence. The women especially are against the idea of going back. They’d rather be settled where they are now, and are willing to wait until they could move from their tents to newly built homes the government was promising.

The women said they felt safe as the camp was patrolled by navy police. Life was getting comfortable, some said. Seeking to understand the strength of their conviction we wondered why you say “we don’t even want to see the sea” but some of the older women merely shrugged their shoulders. When a husky teenager was asked if he, too, feared the sea, he turned sheepishly to his mother, as if she would answer for him. The navy police guard turned and asked “would be interested in joining the navy?” He blushed. When I asked to see the oldest person in the group, a gentle gray-haired woman came forward smiling. She had been swept into a ditch many meters from her shattered home. Do you fear to go back I inquired, she with a smile said “not at all.” A disapproving hum followed from people crouched in the back of the hall. One young woman leaned over to me and said, “Do not pay attention to her sir! She’s a bit mad”.

The local chief is prompted to ask “would you be willing to go by the sea if we take your there in a bus, “just to see?” Embarrassed smiles, some nods. Clearly these folks were deeply attached to the shoreline, the men mostly all fishermen, whose source of their livelihood was dependent on the fishes of the sea. When I whispered to the Chief Secretary asking if caste considerations might be a factor in re-settlement, he said “possibly, yes”.

We discussed rehabilitation. One carpenter said he had lost all his tools and would like to have a new set. Another wanted the materials to make bricks and some women asked for cloth to sew their needs. The provincial chief secretary announced that his office would release the funds for the projects requested. The overall mood was pleasant, the local chief seemed contented.

In the Buena Vista Camp there were just three families left. One mother pointed to her 10 year old daughter noting that the girl had been swept away but was saved when she got entangled in the branches of a high tree. The kid smiled proudly, as if she had performed a great feat. Another mother said she lost six family members. The body of only one of the sons was recovered. They spoke of a kindly “sudhu nona” (white skinned woman) who hearing their woes offered to build them a house