December 12, 2006
Newsletter #4

The Light

Chasm of community

Why is it that society constantly feels the need to separate or distinguish one group from another? Why is division so much easier than union? During the last month, I have experienced two situations that have caused great separation in Sri Lanka: the absence of a right to be heard and a right to interact with mainstream society.

The great divide

As I ducked my head to walk into Udenika’s “house,” a one-room area the size of a small American kitchen, images of my comfortable, furnished apartment, just fifteen minutes away, flashed through my head. Are people really still living like this two years after the tsunami? I looked around the room, filled with any belongings she had salvaged from the disaster, and saw how she had tried her best to make it feel like home, despite the small space and practically unlivable conditions. She gets by only from the child support her husband has to pay for her son with special needs, who, due to the living conditions, has to live with her mother in another area. The two rupees (less than two cents) she receives per pair of pants she sews for a garment factory is definitely not a living wage. The house was covered by a tin roof, which did anything but repel the heat, and was built, along with many others, in an off-the-beaten-path, marshy area, which was prone to flooding during this horrible monsoon season. Her bed sat on tin cans and cinder blocks, as the water has sometimes reached that high the past month.

This is typical of what I saw in six tsunami resettlement camps in Ratmalana, an area about fifteen minutes south of my neighborhood in Colombo. I went with Saranapala De Silva, the coordinator for the United Federation of Labor, an organization in the Joining Hands Praja Abilasha network. We traveled around the area to talk with the people. After the third camp, I realized the situation was much the same in all the camps. Many of these people had lived on rented land, so when the tsunami hit, they had no documentation of ownership, and thus were not entitled to compensation for land. They were given no rations, and the government refused them permanent housing. The owner of the land usually received the compensation, even if the tenants could prove they were renting. Some families who did own land also received minimal or no compensation because they were away when the tsunami came, everything was washed away, and their documents were lost. We were even told that even some people who could produce their deeds did not receive compensation.

So how are these people supposed to return to society when help is minimal? They have entered a vicious cycle. Since these camps are far from their place of employment, people aren’t working and have no or only a tiny income. With a low income and no compensation, they cannot afford to save to buy land (which is hardly available in Colombo now anyway) or to pay for a lawyer, who could help them get the documentation to make a claim for their losses. With their inability to afford critical, legal resources and guidance, they will never understand the policies or know how to approach the government to fight for their right to land, so they will continue to work the minimal hours and get by however they can.

These citizens do not deserve to live like this. They should not have to live in cramped housing and unhygienic conditions, with toilets overflowing because they are never emptied, with lack of water because it is not consistently present in the tap, with rooms that are marked off by saris draped across the walls, with a constant fear of being kicked out at any time—a fear that might become reality for many at the end of this month.

So what can be done? These people need somebody to explain their rights to them and be their voice in approaching the government. They need to know that somebody cares for them and that they are still an important part of society, not outcasts because of their situation.

Praja Abilasha is now looking into how we can become a part of this struggle. It may take some time and collaboration, but anything that can help to bridge the divide between these people and mainstream society will be a success in my eyes. The power of unity is an amazing thing.

Peace,

Chenoa Stock
Companionship Facilitator
Joining Hands – Sri Lanka