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Issue Date: 2 / 2006 |
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Picking Up the Pieces: One Year After the Tsunami
Mridu Khullar
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Local fishermen playing cards.
(Adam Huggins)
Click image to enlarge.
Tens of thousands of lives lost. Many millions more rendered homeless. Thousands of families cramped into temporary shelters that were built to house survivors for a brief period. While the state and central governments may have declared the relief phase over, and the state machinery has entered into the rehabilitation mode of operation, people continue to live like refugees. In most places, the land for construction of permanent houses for survivors of the South Asian tsunami has yet to be identified, and there is little hope in the eyes of people who have lost homes, families, and livelihoods that they will be able to call anything but these windowless blocks of land home again.
This is India, one year later.
After a span of one year, it was expected that there would be quick distribution of compensation and relief, completion of permanent housing structures,and people reaching closure. Instead, the landscape is covered with debris-filled, desolate beaches, halves of boats buried in the sand, and people who are desperately clinging to the hope that help will come, sooner rather than later.
Beach after beach, village after village, shelter after shelter looks haunted, as if still living in the past. In many of these places, time has stood still and the only visible change is that blades of grass now grow where earlier there was nothing but sand, carried in by the killer waves. Villages that look like they were ravaged not a year, but a week ago, broken structures that have yet to be cleaned up, and vendors standing by the roadside waiting for buyers who may never come, all serve as a reminder that while the tsunami may have become a hazy memory for the world, the reality of what happened on the morning of December 26, 2004, is something that people in these areas still struggle to come to terms with each day.
No boats ply the waters; instead, fishermen sit idle everywhere--in their shattered homes and splintered boats by the seaside. With the recent flooding and increased water levels in the region, fishing has taken a backseat. While economic and housing difficulties last, fishermen have little else to do but sit in their boats and play cards. Empty alcohol bottles littering many temporary and permanent shelters suggest other fishermen's pastimes in these areas besides gambling.
But even though the difficulties have made it hard for fishermen to ply their trade right now, most of them did occasionally go back to the sea as soon as June or July. For them, it's not a matter of being afraid of the sea or being brave enough to not let it stop them. For them it's a matter of survival. They know nothing else, can do nothing else. When it's a choice between going back to the sea and facing another tsunami on the one hand, and staying at home with no means of livelihood on the other, there is really no choice at all. They have gone back to the sea.
Millions of dollars of aid came in, but where that money ended up is anyone's guess. These fishermen are proud people, and the fact that many of them have been reduced to homeless beggars is a fact that hurts them the most. Indeed, right after the tsunami, heaps of donated clothes were burned instead of being distributed. They may lead lives of poverty and uncertainty, but they will not tolerate being looked down upon. The fishermen have protested several times against the government's treatment of them. "The tsunami may have washed away our lives and our belongings, but we refuse to be treated like beggars," they say.
The temporary shelters, a story in themselves, are falling apart. Thousands of people are crammed into tiny spaces, with no privacy, no indoor plumbing, and, in some places, not even electricity. In Palaiyar, for example, a temporary shelter community is completely devoid of electricity, with nearly 50 people living together in a small shed. These people had to pack up their meager belongings and move yet again after they found poisonous snakes where their children were playing.
Other shelters tell similar horror stories--water seeping in through the floors, no electricity, and huge holes in the walls. Family after family tells tales of disappointment amid ugly living conditions. They say they just want their homes to be rebuilt as soon as possible so they can return there. "We'd rather face another tsunami than have to live in these temporary shelters," is a common statement in the shelters.
Employment
Not just housing, but going back to work is a problem for people, too. One of the problems that the fisherwomen are facing is that the government refuses to give them the status of workers. While the government classifies what they're doing as routine family activity, the women argue that they are the ones selling the fish in the market each day as their husbands bring them in.
Furthermore, the people here have yet to be issued new identity and ration cards. Without these new identification cards, the people struggle to prove their identities and start new ventures, since their old ones were washed away with the tsunami. In fact, on November 21, 2005, which happened to be World Fisheries Day, the workers held a protest in Nagapattinam by forming a human chain and demanding that the government provide them with these basics immediately.
There have also been many discussions between the state fisheries department and the fisher people on how to handle compensation for their lost boats and equipment. In all these meetings, the fisher people have repeatedly demanded to have checks issued directly in their names. As the situation stands right now, the Tamil Nadu state government issues joint checks in the names of the victim and the director of fisheries. This leads to unnecessary delays and red tape, and often the money, it is said, ends up in the hands of corrupt politicians, rather than with the people who really need it.
One problem that has repeatedly been causing friction between government authorities and the fisher folk is that of the Coastal Regulation Zone. This zone, which originally was intended to regulate human activity within 500 meters of the Indian coast, was divided into four zones, according to how densely it was populated and the kind of development that had already taken place there. The fishery community falls into Zone 3, which includes tourist places, resorts and other undeveloped areas as well as some housing structures. On a case-by-case basis, permission was given to the people to build structures up to 200 meters from the sea. However, a lot of illegal construction and water tapping was done in these areas. After the tsunami however, this limit was increased to 500 meters, in order to make it safer for the people living near the coast. This is because even though tsunamis are rare, cyclones are rather common in these areas.
The fishermen however, feel that this prevents them from earning their livelihood, since it is almost impossible to carry such heavy boats from their homes to the sea each day. The nearer to the sea they live, the easier it is for them to fish each morning. And till now, this hasn't been a problem. Since the livelihood of the people living in the coastal regions is primarily dependent on the sea, hardly any of the 6,000-kilometer coastal belt of India is habitation- or structure-free.
Schools
The state of education facilities isn't much better. Schools that were flattened by the tsunami continue to function without the necessary repairs, and are increasingly becoming unfit for education. Children themselves have not been left scarred, even though many of them have lost parents, siblings, and relatives. While earlier the children faced severe psychological problems, such as nightmares, feelings of terror, and extreme isolation, parents and teachers have been given counseling on how to handle these conditions, and most are returning to normal life. It has come to the attention of authorities, however, that the orphanages and children's homes are not child-friendly, and child labor is becoming common in the affected areas. Stories are often heard of children who have run away from the homes or who have been removed by relatives who have observed the terrible conditions under which the facilities are run.
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Burial ground for tsunami victims.
(Adam Huggins)
Click image to enlarge.
Nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) in the area are continuously working toward rebuilding and repair. They are trying to solve these problems by not only providing the fishing communities with relief supplies and temporary and permanent shelters, but also by giving them counseling and support.
Social Need, Education, and Human Awareness (SNEHA), for instance, is an organization that was working toward enabling and strengthening the fishing community even before the tsunami happened, which is why they are able to monitor the situation closely and provide ongoing help. Based in the Nagapattinam District of Tamil Nadu, this organization acted as a channel for other NGOs to work through 2004. Even in 2005, when most other organizations had pulled out, SNEHA continued to provide ongoing aid and support by maintaining close ties with the community. So far they have been working in 40 villages of Nagapattinam and 10 villages in the Karaikal District of Pondicherry to ensure that the affected communities retain their original habitats and have access to their livelihood resources.
Rebuilding is happening on a structural level as well. The Akkrapettai bridge, one of the major bridges in Nagapattinam, for instance, was completely destroyed by the tsunami in 2004, but by early 2006 was almost fully rebuilt.
Tales of survival are everywhere, such as that of 12-year-old Selvanathan Thoduvai, who suffered third-degree burns when a live wire fell on him two days after the tsunami. While Selvanathan screamed for help, everyone around him scrambled to flee the scene, for fear of another tsunami. Unable to get anyone to help, Selvanathan lay without medical attention for hours. While he's been unable to get enough compensation from the government to cover his medical expenses, Selvanathan has decided not to sit in silence. He has become a member of the children's Panchayat, a body set up by SNEHA to help the children make decisions on area problems that affect the youngsters.
At every temporary shelter, there's a new story of courage, a new story of hope. One such is that of Jeevarani, a onetime fisherwoman who is now a shop owner. She not only lost two of her daughters to the devastating waves, but was also forced to become the breadwinner for the family due to her husband's severe injuries following the tsunami. She doesn't cry as she talks about how her life changed that day. She's told this story before--to the NGOs, the government officers, the journalists who have wandered into these places … she's met them all. She says all she has to without any sign of emotion. She has moved on. Despite having a permanent house near the ocean that has been repaired and reconstructed, Jeevarani and her family continue to live in the miserable conditions of the temporary shelter only so that she can earn a living and feed her family by running a small shop that sells food to construction workers. She has her struggles, and she has her complaints. But she's happy. She's where she wants to be. Away from the sea.
It's only after a disaster like this that the true human spirit rises up. Buried under all the stories of tragedy there are stories of inspiration. A children's playground ten meters from the sea, a game of cricket going on in a temporary shelter, fisherwomen giggling over a private joke. ... They may have lost homes and loved ones a year ago in the devastating tsunami, but these people continue to show courage and resilience by moving forward. The survivors of this tragedy have discovered moments of happiness amid all their sorrow and have learned to treasure what little joy they can get. And one year later, that's really what it's all about.
Mridu Khullar is a freelance foreign correspondent based in
New Delhi, India.
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