Despair reigns in crushed town

Walking past what was once the bus station in Galle, Sri Lanka, I found the elderly Nilina together with others sifting through the remains of their homes.

"When the water came I should have been at my seafront stall selling coconuts and betel, but I was on holiday with family at a house inland," she said, her frail voice barely audible.

"You may think I'm fortunate, but we have lost about 50 relatives. My family had to rescue babies, children from rooftops. I do not know what the future holds."

Ifti Muaheed, one of many jewellers in Galle, a town perched proudly on the southern tip of Sri Lanka - where King Solomon once bought his fabulous jewels - stood staring at the ruins of his shop.

Tens of thousands of dollars worth of precious stones, including dozens of the unique star sapphires for which the area is renowned, were washed away when the waters smashed through his windows.

"Three generations of our family business have gone just like that," he said.

Yesterday, as the torrents drained slowly away, the celebrated town was a damp and devastated shadow of its former self. The colonial streets leading to an imposing 17th-century Dutch fort were gone, flattened by the worst natural disaster the country has ever seen.

Matthew O'Connell, an American who was one of thousands of tourists in Sri Lanka when the tsunami struck, was on Galle's beach when the first wave came up and swept him hundreds of metres inland.

"I thought I was dead. I thought it was the end of the world," he said. "You know your life flashes before your eyes. It happened to me."

These scenes of devastation, grief and incomprehension were replicated along the southern coastal regions of the island as residents and visitors struggled to take in the extent of the disaster, which claimed 12,212 lives in Sri Lanka alone.

More than 1.5 million people have been displaced from their homes - around 7.5 per cent of Sri Lanka's population. Another 2000 have reportedly died in Tamil-held areas of Sri Lanka.

From the temples of Kosgoda and the riverside homes of Balapitiya to the surf beaches of Unawatuna and Mirissa, the coastal road was littered with debris. Everywhere there was evidence of homes, vehicles and lives ripped apart in minutes by the forces of nature.

In Galle, the Army closed off a vast section of the town to clear rubble from the main streets and to keep out looters intent on stealing buried gems. Thousands of men, women and children could be seen at the edge of the cordon, where they sifted through the wash of muddy debris and concrete in an attempt to find food, clothes or the bodies of loved ones.

In a hospital in the nearby village of Karapitiya, people scrambled over hundreds of piled-up bodies, looking for friends and relatives. Others milled around outside, holding shirts or handkerchiefs over their noses against the stench of decaying bodies.

Officials said they were overwhelmed.

"We have got hundreds of dead," said a hospital official. "I don't know what to do."

Further afield, amid fragrant tea plantations, cinnamon fields and rubber trees of the hill country, frantic crowds of homeless, hungry and grief-stricken people were seeking refuge at Buddhist temples. Monks and aid workers tried to ensure they were fed, sheltered and provided with medical aid.

Neel Sumanarnthna, a 44-year-old security manager from the coastal town of Ambalangoda, said his family lost everything apart from the clothes on their backs as they fled their flattened home to the nearest inland temple.

"We heard the water and we ran," he said. "It was me, my wife and three children in the house. We ran inland and waded through the water until we were put into the back of a lorry and driven here.

"There were women with babies crying for help and the walls of the houses were falling down. We have nothing left."

Everywhere, the same stories of despair and loss. Among it all, the selfless acts of assistance.

Janaka Nanayakkaka, who owned a hotel and two rental properties in the surfing and diving resort of Hikkaduwa, spent hours yesterday retrieving bodies from the debris and driving displaced tourists to his inland family home.

His rescue efforts came 24 hours after he fled an approaching 9m wall of water with his wife, 5-month-old baby and dozens of his hotel guests.

Ignoring the pain of an injured and bloodied foot, Nanayakkaka, 29, said: "The scene in Hikkaduwa is horrendous. I pulled out three bodies this morning from the rubble, including one of a 3-year-old child whose parents are missing."

He was eventually forced to abandon his heroic efforts.

"It's too late to save people now. The water went at least 100m from the sea and flattened everything in its path. We are fortunate as the hotel is slightly raised, so we had more time. And now the looters are invading the town and taking what they can. It's a very dangerous place."

Among those benefiting from his bravery was a British visitor, Ian Betts, and his wife, Anna, who had joined the terrified throng fleeing the area as the waves began to hit the exposed resort.

"The water started coming into the hotel and we just had to run," said Betts, 35, from Norfolk. "Tourists sunbathing, surfers and people walking on the beach were just getting swept straight out to sea. We were lucky to have been with Janaka, otherwise I don't know where we'd be now."

 

Galle's Old Fort, a 36ha walled site built by the Dutch in 1663 on a promontory, appeared most vulnerable to the crushing forces of the tsunami. But while the fort appeared to have survived the worst, its narrow streets filled with mosques, churches and hotels were reduced to impenetrable rubble.

"This is the end for Sri Lanka," said one tuk-tuk driver as he joined the exodus of residents and traders heading to the comparative safety - but uncertain future - of the hill country.

But amid the chaos, stench and debris, many people appeared phlegmatic. Hundreds piled into lorries to help with clearing the roads. Others drove around distributing food parcels and cartons of juice.

For some, however, the grief was too much.

"My mother was killed, crushed to death," said a tearful Mahinda de Silva, from Balapitiya, as another funeral car bearing the white flag of mourning drove past.

"She could not escape and I could not rescue her. She was already paralysed and the waves knocked down the walls of her house.

"What is going to happen to Sri Lanka? How are the people going to survive this?"

They were, unfortunately, questions to which there was no obvious reply.

- INDEPENDENT