First Person
Tales of Loss and Hope for the Future
By Mikel Flamm
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| K. Vadivel sits on the remains of what used to be his Habitat house in Batticaloa, Sri Lanka, which was totally destroyed by the tsunami on 26 December 2004. © Mikel Flamm photo |
I will never forget the image in my mind of the Sri Lankan homeowner sitting on the broken remains of what was once his house. As he sat there silently, he stared out to the ocean as if in a trance. His thoughts were of 26 December 2004, remembered as the day the ocean turned his life upside down. His wife had been swept away by the waves, her body later discovered that afternoon in a nearby lagoon. He had tried to save her, but did not make it in time.
For 55-year-old K. Vadivel and his surviving family members, their lives were in ruins. His wife of 30 years and his livelihood as a fisherman had been swept away within a matter of minutes. He could not comprehend why, and I felt his pain with each image I shot of him and his family over the week I was in Batticaloa, eastern Sri Lanka.
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| A little girl clutches her clothes, one of her few possessions left after the disaster. © Mikel Flamm photo |
K. Vadivel and his son, Sivaneshan, had gone out to fish, as they usually do, in their small boat in the lagoon that is across from their house. The lagoon is a few hundred metres from the shore that separates the inlet from the open sea. As they threw out their nets, Sivaneshan, 27, looked towards the ocean side of the lagoon. “At first I couldn’t believe it, but then I realized the danger. A huge wave had just come over the distant beach and was headed in our direction. The height was over 6 metres and I knew we had to get to shore to warn my mother, brother and sister. We dropped the lines and paddled ashore.”
As they neared the shore, Sivaneshan jumped out of the water and ran to the house. As he got to the house, the massive wave swept across the road. His father grabbed hold of a tree trunk and held on tight. “I yelled to everyone and took my mother and sister to hold them up to the top of the beam near the toilet”, said Sivaneshan. “The rush of water pounded the house as I tried my best to keep a hold of my mother.” A second wave came through and levelled the house and nearby surroundings. “I looked around for my mother but could not see her.” After about five minutes, the water subsided.
“I was in shock”, said K. Vadivel. “Everyone was running around thinking another wave would come in, but after the second one nothing else. I looked for my wife but could not see her. My children were safe, but their mother was gone.” Later that afternoon, 50-year-old Sarasvathy’s body was found not far from the house, tangled in some bushes in the water. She was taken by the family to the nearby hospital and buried the next day.
Sivaneshan said: “The sea has not been normal since December 26th when the tsunami hit us. It has a strange sound that we can hear all during the day and night. We are worried that this is not the end of this. We all live in fear. All of us fisherman make our living from the sea. The sea gives us everything. Now it has taken back more from us.” Holding on to one of his fishing knives as he cut into a coconut, K. Vadivel added, “this knife is the only property I have left now”.
I was in Sri Lanka in early January 2005 after the tsunami had hit, on assignment for Habitat for Humanity International to assess the loss of lives among homeowners along the coastal areas and the damage done to communities where Habitat had projects. The devastation was hard to assess. Piles of rubble were all that remained of houses where families once lived, where children once played. Torn clothing clung to trees, a child’s toy lay half buried in the sand, as well as a clock whose hands had stopped at 9:15, and there were photo albums with water-damaged pictures of a family in happier times. What was once a community had become a wasteland.
In the communities where I travelled, I heard stories from survivors that made me feel their pain. A homeowner took me to where his house once stood. “This used to be a beautiful house”, he said. “I grew up near the ocean, but never felt like it would cause us any harm. Now we know different. We feel that there may be another tsunami coming, so we are all afraid.” As I walked through a community located less than 100 metres from the shoreline, it looked as if a bomb had hit the area. As far as you could see in any direction was a vast plain of ruins. K. Vadivel had told me that “the ocean is angry now. As fishermen, we take from the sea for our livelihood, but now it has taken back from us more than we could ever have imagined.”
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| Mikel Flamm pictured with Manimala. © Mikel Flamm photo | As the rebuilding process continues, people are picking up their lives through the enormous relief effort that began within days after the tsunami hit. In mid-March, I covered a group of professional builders from the United States, Australia and the Netherlands, who were part of the Habitat’s disaster response programme. Known as the “First Builders” teams, they work in communities most affected by natural disasters.
One of the houses they worked on was K. Vadivel’s in Batticaloa. Over a period of five days, they helped to complete the job that had been started by local volunteers. His 19-year-old daughter Manimala, who helped to mix cement and carry bricks, took me to the room that would be hers. “This is the same spot where my mother stayed in the other house. Soon it will be my room. I still feel her presence here. I know she is watching over us and this makes me feel safe. I know we will be happy here.”
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| K. Vadivel, his daughter Manimala and son Sivaneshan, at the dedication ceremony in March 2005, pose with members of Habitat for Humanity’s First Builders team in front of their completed house. |
American team leader Bob Bell of Eugene, Oregon, said: “When we arrived here five days ago, we had no idea of what to expect and were not sure of what we would do. But during our time here, we worked on a total of five houses.”
As K. Vadivel, his daughter and two sons stood inside their new house during a house dedication ceremony, there was stone silence as a single candle was lit under a framed photo of his wife. It had been three months since the tsunami had struck, and on the very spot where their former house once stood, their new house was being dedicated. “We did not expect to have a house dedication while we were here, so this is a special occasion to be part of. To each of us who came here to help this and other families, this house culminates a new beginning of hope for this family, one with a lot of happiness for many years to come,” according to Bob Bell.
K. Vadivel thanked the volunteers who came to rebuild his house and his life. His daughter later told me: “I feel my mother’s presence here today as if in a dream. I feel she is with us here and will protect our family. I know we will be safe now.”
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Mikel Flamm has been in Southeast Asia since 1980 as a freelance photojournalist based in Bangkok, Thailand. He has covered events as a photographer and writer, mainly on human-interest issues, ranging from refugees, street children, children of war and in prostitution, and trafficking of children in Southeast Asia. In 1996, he co-authored with Ngo Kim Cuc a book on the street children of Viet Nam, titled Children of the Dust. |
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