|
Sri
Lanka Journal:
Entry Number 5
Meeting the Survivors: The Prasad Family
I
met a family called Prasad. There is a father, mother, a twenty year
old son and a daughter named Sewandi. Mr. Prasad was first seen lugging
a large plastic bucket of fruit salad. This family was living in one of
the blue tents - their address being "Number 10". The son, whose name
was Klahiru spoke good English and he brought me over to the other
family members. We stood in the narrow space between the facing tents.
This family had lost another son about five years before who was nine
years old. They said it was an accident but I did not know what sort of
accident. They brought out a photo album and showed me several photos
of this boy. Then there were photos of his grave site with beautiful
flowers and candles lit. The whole family was posing behind the grave
as though it were a family wedding portrait rather than a grave site.
The Lost Boys
Klahiru and his mother brought out a framed portrait of another boy. He
was three and a half years old and was named Kravindu. He had been
swept away in the tsunami. The mother spoke quite a bit about the loss
of the previous child and how they had the opportunity to have the
funeral and grave site. I asked her is the body of Kravindu had been
recovered. It had. But he was pushed into a mass grave and covered over
with the back hoe. The family is not exactly sure where is body is
located. This was a source of great distress to this mother and, in
fact, to the whole family. While she was speaking, the rest of the
family stood by and nodded assent to what she was saying.
The family invited Rifky and me into the tent. In one corner was a pile
of cooking and eating utensils. In other corners there was folded
bedding. On the back wall, they replaced Kravindu’s portrait which had
some sort of small beads hanging from it. There were two plastic lawn
chairs in the middle of the room. Rifky and I were asked to sit. So we
did. The customs here are pretty straightforward. You are invited in to
sit or you are invited in to sit and also have tea. It was obvious that
there was no way to make tea in this tent. Cooking has been happening
outside in various ways including open campfires. I was very struck by
the quiet dignity of this family - something I would experience time
and time again.
Nothing Left
I was also struck with how little they had. There was no evidence of
extra clothing. The photo album and framed portrait were about it for
family belongings. They told me the tent gets so hot in the day, they
have to spend most of their time outside. As they said that, a giant
rainstorm came up. So, I wondered about staying in the overheated tent
or going outside in the rain. Not much choice. Each tent has a single
non frosted light bulb hanging in the middle. It casts a harsh light on
the whole interior. After we sat a while, we got up to leave. There is
a sense about how long you sit. First of all since there were only two
chairs, the rest of the family stood looking down on us. It is a little
unnerving. Secondly, it seems as though by accepting their invitation
they felt very satisfied and content while we sat.
We all got up and went out into the “main street” between the tents.
Various pieces of plastic had been hung so only a little rain got in. I
told the family about how beautiful the child who died five years ago
was and also how beautiful the grave site looked. They were beaming as
though I had just complimented them on a new house.
No one Asked
Then I said it was very sad that they were unable to have a funeral for
Kravindu and what a beautiful child he was. At this, Mrs. Prasad turned
to Rifky and spoke very fast and very intensely. Rifky told me that I
was the first one to ask about their loss. She went on that no one had
come there and asked these simple questions. She stood there with tears
running down her face. Her daughter, son and husband just let her
represent all of them in their emotions. Then a certain calm came over
her and she grabbed both of my hands and smiled. This was really
overwhelming for me. I realized at that point I was a witness to their
lives and the lives of their lost children. It came upon me as a weight
and a gift at the same time. I had this feeling many times before
talking with families about their losses. But, that was always a part
of a larger picture of family, religious and community involvement.
Here the community cannot get involved because they all have similar
stories.
I was grateful about the simplicity of this family and how they were
all focused on this lost child. They were bearing grief and when they
told me about it, I was able to affirm that part of their existence.
They had no belongings or a house or anything to do. It was hot in the
tent and their whole existence was boring. But they had this secret of
their grief. They owned that. It was a unique grief intertwined with
the loss of two children - one being taken in the tsunami. I was very
taken about the precious and unique character of their losses and how
that formed an identity for them. It was not a morbid focus. It was
just part of the fabric of who they were. The missing children were not
eradicated. Their spirits and their brief lives were keeping this
family company. I realized how obscene it is when we hear statistics
about how many died. It hides the true reality of the lives these
people live.
I now had a notion of the immensity of providing some comfort in this
situation. There were the other 90 or so tents. Each one had a story.
Each story was unique. There is no homogenization of feeling here. Each
expression is a unique and poignant as the character of each human
being. The hearing of these stories is a tremendous gift.
Photo Gallery
|
