Talalla Central is home to approximately 60 families. Around 20 have moved, compliantly, to a nearby refugee camp situated towards Matara, others remain in the village. Some, out of fear, are clinging desperately to what is left of their homes, if anything, and otherwise residing in donated shelters. They are clinging out of ignorance, and not their own dealing, for as yet nobody knows what will happen to these displaced families. The Government still sits on a ruling that reconstruction, even of temporary residences, cannot be initiated within 100mtrs of the sea.
Confused and afraid of a destiny, yet to be decided, the people of this small village stay fixed to their land, determindly, living below even their own prior standards as leaving could mean they will later be refused access to return.
Amidst this confusion there lives a close group of 11 families, 47 people, of whom we’ve become particularly fond. It’s difficult to say why, exactly, perhaps because of their abilities to cope as a true community in such adverse conditions, surviving together as one rather than clutching to what is available for themselves. Watching them it’s hard to believe the massive extent of their combined losses.
When we arrived they were still living in critical conditions, food rations distributed weekly by the Government of rice and sugar. Of the 11 families, nine lost their homes and possessions entirely. Their tents have been erected closely together on collective land, and they now form a small refugee camp.
Eminent is their absolute tolerance towards these conditions. Residing with inappropriate shelter, places to cook or wash and no livelihood tools to earn an income for their survival. Still, they do survive, contently, and in defiance of all the elements that are rallying against them.
Daily life incorporates laughter, sunshine, tears, arguments, acts of kindness and unkindness, bravery and surprise – just as you’d find through everyday personalities in any village, anywhere. Their familiarity is endearing. The children run from tent to tent, sit with whichever ‘parents’ they choose for the moment and mothers punish and defend when needed, even against their own naturally born. They play and fight, as I imagine they did before - accepting of their diminished environment: still boisterous; shy; determined; fair or bossy – their striking personalities have not been affected.
We recently donated musical instruments to help them through the uncomfortable days and nights without recreation. They play and dance as one family, binding more tightly this incredible sense of togetherness.
The end of next week should see their livelihoods returned, comprising of fishermen, labourers, seamstresses and coir makers, for the entire village. While we cannot help to rebuild their homes at this stage, due to Government ruling, we aim to make sure that all temporary residences are suitable to withstand the forthcoming monsoon. And by returning their livelihoods we are offering them the chance to begin to 'reconstruct' their lives, with an available income.
The people here exemplify the many sub-groups within communities who forge a particular closeness, although this group, and what we have already learned from time spent with them, are particularly dear to us, and our efforts.
