THE BAD

s the tsunami approached, it pulled the sea back on itself, extending the beaches by as much as a kilometre. The bed of the ocean, thus revealed, provided scenes of breathtaking beauty: acres of sand, polished by the sea over innumerable millennia, sparkled in the sun’s rays, while uncovered coral displayed every shade of every colour. The stunning natural revelation beckoned with untold promises of an unknown world – and man, finding the allure irresistible, approached unhesitatingly…
But far more irresistible was the awesome power of the ocean, as it returned with a vengeance – louder and louder, faster and faster, churning, whirling, swirling and rising, rising, rising – to drown, destroy and devastate with a fury never before witnessed by the people of our country.

THE GOOD

Sri Lanka was buckling at the knees… its people were dying by the thousands, and the nation was going under. But it’s darkest before the dawn, they say – and so it proved. Its people – divided by decades of misrule – arose, unified by the common goal of helping their brothers and sisters.
Ordinary Sri Lankans cleared out shops of water, milk powder, medicines and other emergency aids. Then, they collectively organised the transportation of their donations to the ravaged regions. This was the silent majority at work – this was the true spirit of Sri Lanka…
In the weeks that followed, the world matched the deeds of Sri Lanka’s silent majority, with unprecedented pledges of assistance. This unimaginable disaster had united a divided world. From the four corners of the globe they came, these brothers and sisters of different races, religions and colours, with astonishing gestures of the heart that will keep alive a little longer the dream of world peace.

THE UGLY

As the picture of devastation became clearer, the country’s politicians began crawling out of the woodwork. Many were enjoying the holiday season in First-World destinations – and some kept on holidaying. Those who had remained were helicoptered around so they could have a bird’s-eye view of the death and desolation. Pathetically, they commandeered the nation’s precious resources to ferry their kith and kin from plush beach resorts to safety, while tens of thousands lay dead and dying.
As ordinary Sri Lankans held centre stage with their magnificent aid efforts, the vultures started circling overhead. Businesses pledged funds in ‘magnanimous gestures’ in the presence of flashing cameras, releasing to the media finely crafted statements extolling their own virtues. Conspicuous by their absence were the manufacturers of essential items – bottled water, pharmaceuticals, milk powder. Supermarkets also enjoyed a roaring trade – but prices weren’t discounted for the relief effort. Perverse as it sounds, it seems the tsunami was good for some.
Overnight, the country was dotted with makeshift camps providing shelter for hundreds of thousands. Reports of over a thousand people per toilet were commonplace and the threat of disease appeared a virtual certainty. To most Sri Lankans, it came as no surprise that the state seemed unable to cope – despite the biggest peacetime mobilisation of people and materials in history.
Law and order were amongst the first casualties. Reports described dead bodies with ears and fingers cut off for the jewellery that adorned them. At morgues, bribes had to be paid in some instances to take possession of dead relatives’ bodies. Hotels reported the guardians of the law were walking in uninvited and helping themselves to food and drink. Women and children were most in danger – rape and abuse were becoming increasingly commonplace and children were disappearing mysteriously. And although individuals and organisations alike were voluntarily queuing up to help look after the ‘tsunami orphans’, no solution was forthcoming from Sri Lanka’s legendarily inept bureaucracy. Still, the state muddled along – seemingly oblivious to it all.
For weeks after, grieving mothers and fathers would stand guard on the beaches, staring out into the great ocean, hoping for the bodies of their children to be given back by the sea that took them. A decent burial is all these parents can offer their children now…

EPILOGUE

The tsunami can, perhaps, be considered a metaphor for Sri Lanka’s 56 years of self-rule. First came the promise of untold wonders – in one case provided by a receding sea, in the other by aspiring politicians. Then came the havoc, wrought by the very body that provided the promise of glorious wonders. While one caused death and destruction in a few minutes, the other has been doing it year after year, for well over a half a century – something that every citizen could perhaps reflect on, on 4 February…