| by S. Ratnajeevan H. Hoole
( November 24, 2012, Washington DC, Sri
Lanka Guardian)
Returning home is never an easy task in the Vanni. After years of being caught
in the cross-fire, hiding little children from Tiger press-gangs, running away
from rampaging soldiers, having the entirety of several districts emptied of
people, and living in camps, there was finally hope of a new life. People are
slowly beginning to rebuild their lives through the help of NGOs and the
government and, most of all, by their own sheer will. These farmers restarting
life in their ramshackle shells is a testament to their resilience.
Peter (whose name has been changed to
save him from being arrested by our intelligence services and put on TV to
retract his story like what was done to the doctors from Mullaitivu), is a
sturdy young father of three. He hails from Kokulai in the Mullaitivu district.
Having protected his family from the ravages of both sides, he comes home with
hope of a new settled life; of a time for himself and his young family to
forgive and forget.
In the early 1980s, riots and war
displaced the occupants of Kokulai village to outlying areas of the Vanni, and
subsequently to Menik Farm in 2009. Spurred by the earlier violence of the
1980s, the area was converted into a military zone to protect the border
between ‘Tiger’ and ‘Government’ territories.
Unable to return, displaced farming communities are uniquely subject to
poverty without land. They generally take on seasonal coolie work, which, when
they are lucky, pays as little as Rs600 a day. For largely agriculture-based
communities, such as Kokulai, their greatest asset is cultivable land, the loss
of which can drive entire communities to the depths of poverty.
In October 2011, Government of Sri Lanka
forces completed demining Kokulai. Families were invited to return to areas
surrounding the established military camp. So they did. Peter remembers his
father tilling a nearby plot of land. Growing up displaced in the Vanni, he and
his father tilled other people’s lands for a day’s wage. Part of the highlight
of Peter’s return to Kokulai is in owning the land they were cultivating. It is
a thrill that only farmers know. Peter showed me his deeds to four parappus of
land handed down to him by his father.
Abject poverty
Peter could not resist coming home. He
slashed his way through jungle and brush to identify his lands. Returnees from
Menik Farm rightly receive special resettlement assistance through the
government. The Indian government sponsors about a dozen tin sheets, some basic
tools and utensils, while NGOs provide shelter and start-up livelihood packages
to stimulate economic flow. Nonetheless, dismal levels of abject poverty –
driven by caste, marginalisation and war – are characteristic of Menik Farm
returnees to the Vanni. Water is scarce due to deteriorated culverts and
polluted wells. Their tools are lost or rusted. But poverty is the hardest to
bear. Yet, the thrill of being home kept them going.
That is, till early February 2012, when
Namal Rajapaksa paid a pop-visit to the returned villagers of Kokulai. The
belief that he was coming to assist them with their most urgent needs increased
the excitement in the air. Peter and his friends perked up with hope. A new
dawn indeed, it seemed. As they expected, Namal spoke to the people with a
sense of great gravity, pity, and commiseration. He toured the lands of
Kokulai, as they believed, to better understand their sorrows. He left that day
with promises, raising much expectation in Peter and the poor returnees.
Whether Namal’s intentions were later
led astray, or they had never been honourable in the first place, is difficult
to know. Nonetheless, the next day the local AGA received a call from his
office informing him that 20 acres of land, belonging to around 30 families,
would be given to an East Asian company for the extraction of ilmenite. Before
the families themselves knew of the transaction, strangers arrived and started
setting up walls and fences around their property! Peter told me of the
surprise that filled the villagers when strangers took over their land.
Concerned, they approached the AGA with their deeds in hand. Now these are not
government permits which can be revoked by the government; what they possess
are deeds proving their ownership to this property for generations, yet the AGA
claimed his hands were tied. How was he to stand up to the forces arrayed
against these families? After the experience of the chief justice, would there
be any judge who could be trusted to hear pleas on this dispute in a fearless
manner?
Peter’s handsome eyes look bright with
burning anger under his worried frown over the injustice and the robbery of his
ancestral land. Illegal acquisition of land is happening all around Peter.
In the neighbouring village of
Kokuthoduvai, the townscape is restored, yet the military protects Sinhalese
farmers who continue illegally to cultivate Kokuthoduvai land within the
heightened security zone. In Trincomalee, the fate of some 4,000 families lies
in the illegal sale of land to private companies for coal generation and
economic development. There was no talk of compensation or support. Neither
have there been discussions of alternative income sources for these destitute
families or the illegal farmers. These sales are conducted without owner
consent by the most powerful people in this nation and undermine the very drive
to peace that citizens of Sri Lanka have doggedly demanded.
Fear – the order of the day
I tried to take up this matter with a
well noted NGO which provides free legal services and with politicians who just
four years ago would have relished taking up the cause of Peter and his
villagers. The lawyers refused to return my calls and the politicians, beside
shaking their heads and grumbling about the state of affairs, were quick to
change the topic when I asked about solutions. It appears in the present climate
they do not want to hear about it at all. Fear is the order of the day.
There is a lot of work to be done to
ensure that poverty and resentment do not open up old wounds again. I remember
the president saying in faltering Tamil when he opened the Poonery bridge, that
he promises only what he will do and does what he promises. But the promises of
“Mahinda’s thoughts” sound pretty hollow in Kokulai. The poor without land to
till cannot leave their families and work in cities miles away, especially not
single women and families with young girls. They feel powerless and abused.
Christians will know the story that
Prophet Nathan relayed when he confronted the rich and powerful King David who,
despite having many wives, took his General Uriah’s only wife:
There were once two men, one rich and
the other poor. The rich man was incredibly rich, but the poor man had nothing
but one beloved ewe (female sheep) which he nourished like his child. One day,
the rich man had a guest, but instead of taking from his own flock, the evil
man took and prepared the poor man’s ewe as supper for his guest.
David, not realising that Nathan had
described his own adultery, immediately pronounced death on the rich man and
stated that “he must pay for that lamb four times over.”
Surely it is the same situation here!
The very land the people have tilled with loving care for generations has been
robbed by those who have unaccounted riches. They add to their mountains of
money. They buy Lamborghinis and party at expensive clubs, well beyond
government servants’ pay. They do not even want to pay any tax on their
Lamborghinis while the poor pay through increased taxes on flour for bread.
Will our rulers ultimately be obliged to
like King David?
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