The Buddhists’ traditional almsgiving takes place three months after a death, intending to commemorate the passing of the spirit, to guide the soul safely over to a fine new life and family. Before this time the soul is supposedly still lingering in the home to which it once belonged and the monks’ chanting is said to be asking the spirit to move away and forward to ‘its’ new life. The night of the 25th March leading into 26th marked three months since the tsunami crashed destructively into Talalla Bay, stealing with it so many lives. Consequently mostly everyone in the village was involved, in their respective groups, hosting ceremonies throughout the night and following day. Strategically the almsgiving ceremony, or ‘dhana den eva’ as is called in Singhalese, is broken into timetabled rituals including the giving of food, water, flowers, gifts of robes and ordaining the house decoratively with electrical lighting, to symbolise the elimination of darkness.
We were invited to take part with one group of locals, which was a wonderful honour as they insisted we had become as much a part of the tsunami and its aftermath as they had. The ceremony itself was inspiring, the spectacle wonderful and entirely new. Arriving at around 9 pm the usually barren house, accommodating the almsgiving, was illuminated with fairy lights throughout, cleaned, polished and decorated ready for the arrival of the monks who were to bless and chant until the following morning where they would take a specially prepared breakfast. On arrival we were taken to a room and enjoyed a wonderful meal, which I had observed being prepared busily by all the women involved throughout the day. The tradition is so important that the people, living more frugally in present circumstances, had pooled resources in order to create a delightful feast and make for comfortable surroundings. Many villagers lasted through the night, although some retired and returned later for the morning breakfast.
The following day saw further ceremonies taking place. One family, who had suffered considerable losses, six children and two mothers, had a large number of attendees to bless their dear spirits' passing. On the whole, on this day, we witnessed a surprisingly happy ambience. It was difficult to detect whether this meant people had moved on and were ‘forgetting’ or simply holding themselves bravely. Still, it manifested some wonderful images. To see the love and laughter being shared amongst families, to see how much they have their movements have developed to embrace their lives and livelihoods again, to see children playing happily amongst the still devastated houses, their bravery shining in the face of what was lost to them three months ago. Particularly warming was the sight of children playing in the water, at first with caution but then jocularly and fully clothed they submerged themselves – convinced that they should no longer fear what they fear of the sea. Families too came down to watch the then gentle waves lapping calmly over the shore in the blistering heat of the day.
So after three months feelings are mixed. Families are now starting to work and function in their new senses of normality. Yet still the burdened memories are lingering. People suffer mentally through their losses. Income causes a huge problem in the way of pride and inability to provide adequately for their families. The loss of houses too means people are forced to accept the generosity of relatives and friends and live under donated hospitality. Kome Edirisinghe noted “Because so many homes were washed away the families are suffering mentally, without their own place to live.” But they are facing their problems despite no help form the Government and a subsequent loss of faith in a structure that should be protecting them. Kome said, “Until now the people have no trust in the Government because they have received nothing. They look to the help from foreigners like you (The Talalla Bay and District Support Group) and it’s the only help they have seen.” Another known fisherman from the village, Kirthi Subasinghe said, “The Sri Lankan Government has not helped at all. We have received nothing and it makes me so angry.”
Ironically only two days after the three-month commemoration, when spirits were lifted, the recent tsunami threat resulted in a giant step backwards. Chaos ensued on the night of Monday 28th March as people were warned all over the coast to move 2 kms inland; they took the warning and ran. Villagers fled as far as they could towards safety, so frightened that once again the dreadful horror from the sea would come and take from them. The heightened ambience that we saw last Saturday is now shattered and has been replaced by caution, fear and anxiety as the slowly suppressing memory of the tsunami once again becomes tangible and threatening.
Photographs taken by a local man Ghit, at the time of the tsunami, show the water drawing back into the ocean before the second wave. In stark contrast, Jess stood at the same viewpoint three months later capturing, comparitively, the calm glassy ocean as it appeared last week.
