Let us rally for a post-tsunami type humane effort

On December 26, 2004, when the Indian Ocean tsunami ravaged the coast of Sri Lanka, there was something that broke through the numbness of shock. Hours after the giant wave had unleashed 20 minutes of fury on a populace that did not even know its name, there was a collective call of conscience that was answered by almost everyone who was still alive. Before the international cargo planes started to fly in, before the thousands of NGOs landed on these shores with their relief packages, it was the people of Sri Lanka that were the first responders in the disaster – to feed, clothe and indeed, bury their fellow men who had been devastated by the waters. From the very young to the old and feeble, people came out in thousands to assist in any way possible, whether it was to load trucks full of rations to send out to the affected regions or dig out the dead from under the rubble. The fact that ordinary people moved of their own volition, with no political motivation or mobilisation of any kind, determined simply to help in any way they could, was the most shocking thing of all.
In many ways, we have watched unfold before us in this past week, a tsunami of a different kind. Television stations have beamed pictures that have reached the furthest corners of the globe, of a sea of people trekking their way into government controlled territory, injured, starved and bleeding, some carrying their dead, free at last from the showers of bombs and bullets that have rained on them for several weeks inside a safe zone. Even as Colombo and the rest of the country has rejoiced in the elimination of the LTTE, it is this unceasing wave of Sri Lankan citizens that have borne the brunt of the government’s military offensives against the Tigers. Held hostage by the rebels for many months, caught in the crossfire, robbed of their food and medicine, facing very real starvation and death, the toll of the war is written all over their faces. Sri Lankans have been glued to their televisions as they watched this mass exodus from LTTE clutches and very real expressions of sympathy and shock have been articulated. There is no doubt, genuine thankfulness that the people are finally, finally safe at last.
The trouble is, this sympathy and concern is yet to be transformed into deed the way it did during the 2004 tsunami disaster. There is no palpable noise being made about extending a hand to our brothers and sisters of the north in their time of terrible need. There are no television stations calling for aid every hour, there is no peoples’ movement towards sending relief to the afflicted and if there is feeling for these traumatised victims of war, it has remained silent sympathy.
There is a crying need for a gesture, the extention of a hand from south to north, brother to brother, citizen to citizen. The war, after all, is won. For all intents and purposes, the LTTE is no more and with its elimination, the threat of secession is past. The time is right then to begin to build bridges. It is a time to stop thinking in terms of an ‘us’ and a ‘them’. The time has come, to find ourselves again – the peaceful, hospitable, helpful people – that somehow got lost in the noise of war and the taste of victory. It was this sense of Lankan-ness that prevailed in 2004 and only a similar outpouring of humanity can be a salve to the cruel and lasting wounds of war. Once the guns fall silent, there is so much left to do. Let us hope we can find it within ourselves to start now, in order to build, together, a peace that will outlast us all.