Mother who lost her three children to the sea when the tsunami hit
Batticola, Sri Lanka 2005.
Of the 8,000 residents of Batticaloa, 5,000 died. That’s 60 percent of its population. The once-thriving beach-front village was surrounded by a lagoon so there was nowhere to run when the giant wave hit, just into more water. Saris and clothing were left embedded in the barbed wire set up to protect against wild animals, where many of the bodies were trapped in its grip. A few...
more »Mother who lost her three children to the sea when the tsunami hit
Batticola, Sri Lanka 2005.
Of the 8,000 residents of Batticaloa, 5,000 died. That’s 60 percent of its population. The once-thriving beach-front village was surrounded by a lagoon so there was nowhere to run when the giant wave hit, just into more water. Saris and clothing were left embedded in the barbed wire set up to protect against wild animals, where many of the bodies were trapped in its grip. A few remnants were scattered: cooking pots, photographs with cracked glass, clocks stopped when the wave hit at 9:22, Buddhist statues which mysteriously remained standing. But mostly there was just rubble. Everywhere had its own ghosts.
I viewed the beach, cluttered with personal effects. Human bones had started to wash up. A woman walked alongside me who appeared to be in shock. As I turned to ask if she was all right she began madly gesticulating toward the sea, indicating that it had taken her two children. She, as so many I encountered, now lived with the image of seeing her family swept away and struggled with the profound guilt of being unable to hold onto her children. Beside herself with anguish she attempted to throw herself into the ocean. I pulled her back and held her as she wept. Inconsolable, she buried her face in the sand. Death is certainly more integrated with life in this part of the world, but there was no quantifying the universality of a mother’s pain.
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