Pictures of hope after tsunami

There are just three carriages now. The other five have gone, along with the engine, towed away by Sri Lankan Railways. But still the people come. They come to see three battered, brown rusty cars that remain in Peraliya.

For this is South Asia's ground zero, a place where those who have lost can come to contemplate.

Although the devastation has spread far and wide, this little village between Colombo and Galle on the island's west coast has become its focal point.

On Boxing Day, as the deadly waters surged ashore, it was here that the coastal train Samudradevi - the Queen of the Sea - was engulfed. At least 1500 passengers died.

Now, in the shadow of the ghostly carriages, the children of Peraliya are learning to smile again - with the help of pictures. A project to give cameras to shattered youngsters has produced fresh perspectives of the legacy of the world's worst rail disaster.

Before the tsunami, many of Sri Lanka's children had rarely been near a camera. So when the world's media descended, many were frightened when cameras were pointed at them.

Now they find themselves on the other side of the lens. Travel photographer and magazine editor Juliet Coombe started working as a volunteer in Peraliya at the start of January. She was drawn to the island after finding out that some of her friends had died in the tsunami. Immediately, she felt an urge to help.

After weeks of delivering aid, recovering bodies and listening to the children's stories, she hit on a plan. Give them all cameras.

"It struck me that their perspective of this devastated village and its iconic train would be interesting. But, more importantly, I thought photography could serve as a form of therapy, by helping the children to confront their fears," says Coombe, who has also helped set up a website where the village's recovery is being recorded.

"We're trying to empower them to tell their own stories through photographs to deal with what they've seen and to overcome it."

The image that dominates the children's portfolios is the train.

"The train has become part of the village. It is etched on their lives," Coombe says. "It was the first thing that the kids wanted to shoot. When we gave them the cameras they made straight for the carriages."

In the small area that lost so many people, the train is much more than a haunting hunk of wreckage and when authorities tried to remove it recently as the line was being rebuilt there was an uproar.

Locals sped to where it had been shifted and demanded its return.

A compromise was reached that saw three of the carriages left behind as a sort of national memorial. The villagers are still fighting for the engine to be brought back.

Meanwhile, the children snap away at what remains. One young photographer, 9-year-old Danuka, says: "The broken carriages look like my friends' tsunami scars. The train is bleeding. So many people died. I feel the carriages are like open wounds."

Dinushika, 11, admitted she was "still worried about the ghosts that live in the train".

The dominant thoughts remain: loss, death and fear - little wonder, given that 1500 from the village died, as well as those killed in the train.

More than 450 families were left homeless. Still, they try to pick up the pieces. Shattered homes are now topped with tents provided by international aid agencies and individuals.

The village is battling for recovery but scars left on young minds remain deep.

"So many people are still missing from my village that I wonder if some are still hiding out on the train," Dinushika says.

The children of Peraliya witnessed unimaginable scenes. And the horrors continue. Last week, remains were still being found in swamp areas behind the train line.

Carnage has become commonplace. And the attention drawn to their village has brought strange sights and sounds to Peraliya.

White people, for a start. Dozens of them. Aid workers, tourists helping the recovery process and television camera crews.

Not all have been welcome visitors. Photographers who waded through devastated homes to get dramatic images have left some sad children saying: "Didn't they realise these were our homes? Why didn't they ask if they could come in? They just walked in."

But now dozens of such children are using photography to tackle inner demons left behind by the tsunami.

"As well as the train, the children are going back to the sea," Coombe says. "This is progress. In the first few weeks they would not go near the sea."

Panani, 7, echoed the fears of many of the youngsters as he showed off a picture taken from the beach. "The sea eats people. I don't want to swim in it in case it eats me."

But amid the continuing fear is hope. "It has been great to see smiles on the faces of little people who have lost so much," says Coombe. "Each step on the road to recovery brightens their lives."

A few weeks ago most of the children were too frightened to enter the carriages where so many lives ended. Now it is a backdrop for the games of growing up.

As the camera clicked, Hasitu, 10, clambered through the train doors in search of a few of his camera-clutching friends. "I'll want to photograph them, but the train is full of places to hide," he said.

Playing on the carriages, returning to school, replacing the village sign, getting back to the beach - all are huge events for a community left in ruins just two months ago. And all are moments being captured by the children of the train.

- INDEPENDENT