Non-governmental organisations swarmed like locusts to Sri Lanka after the tsunami of 26 December. They would have dearly liked to do the same thing in India, but New Delhi declared itself perfectly able to deal with the disaster. For this ingratitude India was severely criticised by an international 'donor community'. There was also enough criticism to go around in Sri Lanka as well: how dare the Tamil Tigers claim they can coordinate and funnel all help through their own, indigenous NGO, the Tamil Rehabilitation Organisation (TRO), instead of letting foreigners run loose in the countryside! This chatter subsided quickly enough, once it became clear that the TRO was virtually the only efficient ngo in Sri Lanka when it came to dealing with the tsunami aftermath. It got so bad, for a while, that one would have been forgiven for being cynical: what was worse? The tsunami or the floods of aid-givers who arrived afterwards?
How India and Sri Lanka dealt with the tsunami is a study in contrasts, as is the response of the citizens in the regions that were hit. Whereas the government in Sri Lanka was mired in donor administration and coordination of NGOs, India decided to go about the task itself and kept a tight control on the assistance. The fisherfolk of the Tamil Nadu coast up and down the city of Madras were a picture of self-confidence in the aftermath of the tragedy, active in self-help and in challenging the government. On the other hand, across the Palk Straits in Mullaitivu in the LTTE-controlled northeast, the locals living in camps were but passive recipients of aid. There was a lethargy evident, and unwillingness to help with the reconstruction, which was perhaps the result of despair related to years upon years of war and destruction, followed by a tsunami of the kind of magnitude that it was.
Northeast disaster
In Sri Lanka, 37,000 died and 300,000 were rendered homeless by the tsunami. The devastation was concentrated on the coast between Galle in the south and Trincomalee in the northeast, the latter taking a direct hit that claimed 17,400 lives. Mullaitivu is the little market-town along this coast fiercely contested during the war. It is now part of the LITE-controlled area, the Vanni. Having seen the place after the war, it seemed that more destruction was not possible. Where in the past there was rubble and ruin, now there was virtually nothing. Nearly 3,000 people lost their lives here on 26 December, and 21,000 were displaced. The town was nothing more than dead branches, fallen trees, concrete slabs, a gutted post office, and the façade of a ruined church that had survived the earlier fighting. A children's home situated along the seashore had 98 of its 150 or so young residents swept away.