Recipe for ethnic conflict

The other night there was an accident in Sammanthurai, a town just next to mine. I’ve heard several versions of the story and cannot rise much above heresay at this point, but this is the gist of the story… A truck driver hit someone, the person was badly injured but alive. The driver, a Sinhala man, was scared that the Muslim residents of the area would attack him if they caught him so he sped off. In the process he hit and killed two others in the road. He was then caught by residents of the area who attacked him and killed his assistant. The police intervened and too him and the the Muslim residents he hit to the hospital in my town, Ampara. The next morning in Ampara, residents of Sammanthurai came to retrieve the bodies of Muslim victims of the accident at the hospital but were blocked from doing so. Someone burned two of their motorcycles. Things got ugly. Later that night someone attacked a Muslim on another motorcycle.

If Betty Crocker had a recipe book for ethnic conflict, this would be in it. Dead bodies not allowed to be buried= recipe for disaster. Ethnically inflammatory rumor mills love this sort of thing. Almost immediately rumors circulated of gangs ready to attack any Muslims coming through the area. Shops closed down. Buses stopped running, and the few that tried to run had rocks thrown at them. Police set up check points blocking the road between Ampara town and the predominantly Muslim coast. We had to cancel meetings, and our Muslim staff couldn’t come to work.

Fortunately today things seemed to be clearing up. New rumors… this time of bodies about to be buried. Mediation sessions taking place between Sinhala and Muslim community leaders. Much more benevolent rumors. It seems so far we have adverted complete disaster. But the speed at which things can rachet up here between communities that aren’t even the principle rivals in the area is a bit breathtaking. Generally, when people mention communal tensions here, it is either Tamil-Muslim or Tamil-Sinhala. But this week we’ve added Muslim-Sinhala to the puzzle. As if things weren’t complicated enough. Not that these communities were ever healthily integrated before, but little incidents like these underline the fragility of the ethnic patchwork of this region. I still feel safe in Ampara but finally the adage that nothing ever happens IN Ampara is glumly slinking down the drain.

Golden tsunami

It’s been 2 years since the devastating Asian Tsunami, but many of the worst affected countries are still struggling to recover. Over 30,000 people died in Sri Lanka. Millions were made homeless. Despite billions of dollars that have flowed into the country, many coastal Sri Lankans continue to lack permanent housing...



The seaside town of Kalmunai was never much of a tourist destination. Kalmunai is a bustling commercial hub where you can buy textiles, appliances, and just about anything made of plastic. There are no fancy hotels or restaurants. Rather there are cheap local restaurants that are called “hotels”.

Recently I went to Kalmunai with a group of local journalists I’ve been working with. We stumbled out of a van, just a short walk from the sea. It was a mess--tsunami rubble still strewn about. But it was strangely beautiful. The outline of destroyed brick houses framed the intense green of palm trees and the deep blue of the sea beyond. What houses were left were painted in bright sometimes fluorescent colors. They played off the vivid colors of men’s sarongs and women’s dresses. A group of teenage boys sat on the side of a boat smoking and gossiping, while a very young girl played in the sand wearing a lacy pink party dress that had seen better days.

My reverie didn’t last long. Within minutes, I was surrounded by nearly hysterical children. So very cute. But the first words to escape their precious mouths was “money?” One particularly savy girl could say “What is your name?” But for the most part the only English words they knew was “money”.




We were there to interview residents of the infamous ‘buffer zone’ area of Kalmunai. Kalmunai was devastated by the tsunami. Something like 10% of Sri Lanka’s tsunami deaths came from this town alone.

The ‘buffer zone’ is an area of the coast—15 meters from the sea (it varies depending on the region you are in), where the government has ordered that no rebuilding will take place. The government says this will protect people from future disasters. But rumors circulate that the government is really doing it so they can claim the coastal land for possibly lucrative future real estate deals.

Whatever the reason, the end result was less than satisfying to residents of the buffer zone. Aid groups built structures further inland. But none of the fisherman whose homes were destroyed wanted to live in them. How would they get to work—i.e. the sea. They had no transport. So some of the homes remain vacant while many people continue to have no permanent shelter. Currently a number of families have been petitioning local government to address their ongoing lack of housing.

More than 7 thousand Sri Lankan fishermen were killed and more than 22 thousand fishing boats were destroyed. For them and other coastal residents the tsunami reconstruction has been deeply confounding.

These cities have hosted what some call a ‘second tsunami’, comprised of INGO workers. Driving around the town you can follow a train of INGO signage. You can find how to get to the offices of Save the Children, Solidarity, or UNICEF. You can even see what these groups have built—as each has its own ‘branding plan’. They put their ‘brand’ on everything—from buildings, cars, motorcycles, even bus stops. ‘This light post was brought to you thanks to…’ I find it a bit obnoxious.



Some have even called it a ‘golden tsunami’. Billions of dollars washed in when the waves went out. A new economy was built of INGO staff… drivers, cleaners, translators, office managers, security guards. The tsunami lined government pockets as well. But for the homeless fisherman, two years on, it’s not always clear where this money has gone. I’ve heard unconfirmed claims of housing being donated by the aid community only to find that government is charging people to move into them. Regardless to the veracity of these claims the perception is not helping. Sadly I’ve even heard some people say they wish there would be another tsunami, so more money would wash in.

Others have complained how increasingly donor reliant attitudes have damaged the Sri Lankan cultural willingness to help one’s neighbor. One man spoke of a person borrowing a screwdriver from his neighbor. When he returned it a day later, the man asked for money for use of the screwdriver. This would have never happened before he said. But as I walked through the sand surrounded by children questioning me about “money?” and ‘which ngo?’ I can see that it will be difficult if impossible to undo the damage the tsunami has caused, long after the houses are rebuilt.

Listen to Worldview essay:

Prevention of Terrorism Act v. Patriot Act

I’m living in a country at war with terror. A country that has just introduced restrictive new laws to search and detain anyone suspected of terrorist activities.

I’m not talking about the U.S.
But somehow coming from the U.S. has skewed my perspective on Sri Lanka.

When I hear the word terror I am skeptical. I think of nebulous enemies used to justify unrelated foreign policy adventures. But here there really is an army of rebel troops intent on forming its own independent state. And they control large swathes of the country—including areas less than an hour from my house.

The Tamil Tigers invented and refined the art of suicide bombing. They tried to kill the president’s brother just the other day. But they are exceedingly disciplined in their choice of targets. Civilians are almost never targeted. Sure civilians are often hurt in the crossfire. But the Tigers aim pretty much all their attacks at the Sri Lankan government and military.

As an American I think it can be really hard to visualize what it means to have a war inside your country. Our wars usually happen in someone else’s distant lands. I feel like I am thinking of the neighboring district like it was somewhere on another continent. I cannot imagine the war coming to me. And it seems unreal and abstract to think that gross human rights violations are taking place just a couple hours away. Just days after I arrived here, the Tigers allegedly killed 5 soldiers with a mine. So soldiers at a nearby checkpoint allegedly walked into a school and shot 5 students dead at close range.

Almost daily I get security warnings text messaged to me on my phone saying things like: “Ampara, 6 Ltte cadres killed in retaliatory fire when STF tries to recover 3 tractors”. Sometimes the warnings suggest caution or avoiding certain areas. But to me it still seems a bit abstract.

I feel safe. And I feel guilty that I feel safe. I can continue living my life. --Listening to the BBC on the internet. Visiting other NGO workers who have parties in their homes where they eat Western delights like cheese or Pringles. Even playing with my neighbor’s children seems like an unfair indulgence. Just a few miles away someone else’s child is getting abducted into military service—either by the Tamil Tigers or by government supported rebels who broke off from the Tigers—the Karuna group.

This is similar to the guilt I felt when I lived in the US and read about the tragedies in the world. I hated feeling like there was nothing I could do and it wasn’t fair that I could forget about tragedy just because it was far away and I was privileged to be somewhere safe. I thought coming here I would be able to do more. But here, I still feel helpless in the face of injustice. I am still privileged. And the guilt is almost more so because I’m not that far away. I could get on a bus and go to the sites of conflict. But then what would I do?

Being here that is the question I wrestle with daily. What can I do to contribute to a culture of peace and communal understanding? Is there anything I can do? Being part of the world of INGOs has not inspired confidence. Despite their excellent intentions, many organizations here seem to do nearly as much harm as good. Especially since the tsunami, they have created a culture of dependency and expectation and torn at the fabric of Sri Lankan culture and its ability to heal itself. I’d like to hope that I’m doing something to empower Sri Lankans --so they can encourage dialogue between communities. But it will be a long time before I’ll be able to throw off my feeling of privilege and guilt – and my very American way of imagining war and conflict.