TSUNAMI-IMPACT:
Sri Lankan Widowers Share a Common Grief
Marwaan Macan-Markar
MULLAITTIVU, Sri Lanka, Feb 17 (IPS) - Ramasamy Rajakumar spends his afternoons in the company of a few men who are united
by a common thread of grief. They all lost their wives when the Indian Ocean tsunami
struck. Some, like Rajakumar, also lost two children.
This gathering of the new widowers takes place in the midst of the destroyed homes in
this town along Sri Lanka's north-eastern coast. Sometimes, they seek shade in the ruins
of a Catholic church, also a victim of the tsunami.
The conversation among the men is still punctuated by words of sadness and the guilt of
having survived the natural disaster, which struck over seven weeks ago. Fifty-five-year-
old Rajakumar also reveals his disgust with the sea when probed about his work as a
fisherman.
''I lost my family and I have no reason to fish again,'' says the bearded Rajakumar, in
measured tones. ''What is the point of surviving?''
Such feelings of grief are not new in this town, currently a stronghold of the Tamil Tiger
rebels. Mullaittivu also has been the scene of some bloody battles during Sri Lanka's over
two-decade-long ethnic conflict, which has killed nearly 64,000 people.
Among the conflict's painful legacies are the widows it produced in northern and eastern
Sri Lanka, home to the country's Tamil minority and the bastion of the Liberation Tigers of
Tamil Eelam (LTTE) - which has been battling the Sri Lankan troops in a bid to carve out a
separate state.
By the time a ceasefire deal was struck between the LTTE and Colombo in February
2002, this Indian Ocean island had an estimated 40,000 war widows. Of that number,
nearly 30,000 women came from Tamil communities in the north and east.
But the tsunami has left in its wake a large number of men who have lost their wives and
children in this Tamil Tiger-held area. It is these men, like Rajakumar, who echo the sense
of despair.
''The tsunami was worst for me than the war, because it killed my family,'' says Anthony
Arumurajah, a 45-year-old fisherman who also hails from this town that has been reduced
to rubble. ''I have nothing left.''
Arumurajah has conveyed his feelings through a calendar he printed to mark the loss of
his family. On this broad single sheet of glossy paper are the photographs and names of
the dead - his wife and seven children. In the background is an image of a giant wave,
rising.
According to government estimates, over 3,000 people died in the Mullaittivu district,
while a further 2,640 died in Jaffna, a district to the north. In all, nearly 38,000 people
were killed along Sri Lanka's coast when the tsunami struck on Dec. 26.
Only Indonesia had a greater death toll, close to 200,000, of the 11 other countries in
South-east and South Asia that were ravaged by the Indian Ocean tsunami.
''There are a greater number of husbands and fathers who survived because they
seemed to have had the ability to swim or escape, while their wives and children were
swept away,'' Daya Somasundaram, professor of psychiatry at Jaffna University, tells IPS
during an interview.
''In some cases, there are fathers who survived along with their babies,'' adds
Somasundaram, who is part of a group formed in Jaffna to respond to the psychosocial
effects caused by the tsunami. ''This is forcing the men into roles they are not accustomed
to.''
Evidence of this sizeable number of widowers is emerging in the refugee camps that
have been set up across Sri Lanka's battered northern provinces. This image offers a
contrast to the scenes that were dominant in the refugee camps during the war - those of
the war widows.
One such camp at the Thanniyootu Hindu Board Tamil Mixed School reflects this reality.
It has many widowers among the nearly 300 families being offered shelter.
Among them is Sebastian Croos, the 45-year-old leader of the camp, who lost his wife
but whose four children survived.
''My children only have me to depend on,'' says Croos. ''It is going to be difficult, but I
am determined to help them.''
Other male survivors in refugee camps in towns further north, like Point Pedro and
Valvedditurai, reveal similar sentiments about coming to grips with the life of being a
widower.
That is compounded by the fact that most of the survivors in such towns along the
coastline of the Jaffna district are refugees from the war. Their homes are inaccessible
because they are located within an area that the Sri Lankan government has taken over to
situate its military muscle - hence described as a ''high security zone'' - in its war against
the Tamil Tigers.
The challenge for those like Croos will begin when the refugees at the school move out
in a week to become part of the second phase in the post-tsunami relief efforts - helping
the shattered communities to recover their lives.
But the road ahead for Croos is littered with new hurdles. For one, the Tamil Tiger rebels
who run this camp have still to offer the refugees at the school a permanent place to start
rebuilding their lives.
Then there are the disruptions in the community spirit and life caused by the tsunami
that has to be overcome. ''Because the devastation was so sudden and so overwhelming,
fundamental organic bonds were broken that Sunday,'' says Somasundaram, the
psychiatrist. (END/2005)
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