So many people helped to make the last four months great:

Thanks to my family for your support! Special thanks to mom for editing, dad to reading, and Dorito for commenting.

Thanks to Erin and Iain at AP.

Rumba nandri to everyone in Colombo- especially CRM, VJ, TN, MdS, KK, and SX.

Thank you for reading!

I would also like to thank the three-wheeler drivers of Sri Lanka for providing me with unforgettable words to live by:

Hip hip hurray; Don't give me pain

make it snappy

Why Can't I do a part of your life?; Don't brake my heart.

Love how can a small word mean so much

You are the gift to god to me

Love is honey life jolly

I never love anyone other as you

different show; I can be different

Golden Father

Do you want to challenge me

Left our with us love remain eternal

Why fight the inevitable

LONG LIVE our mother land; No one mistake

Life is sweet dream

Better To You Don't Come My Way

The overwhelming presence of religion in Sri Lanka continues to surprise me.  Many people profess their religious preferences before they open their mouths; Buddhists may have a white string tied around their wrist, Hindu women will sport a pottu or bindi on their foreheads, and Muslims wear hijabs or niqabs.   Just about every moving vehicle I’ve been in- three-wheeler, bus, car- has featured a shrine, statute, or offering to one of the island’s Gods.  In Jaffna, I saw devout Hindus hanging by hooks.  In Kandy, Buddhists sobbed at the Temple of the Tooth.  On the road to Kayts, Muslim men with orange beards watched passing traffic from newly constructed Mosques.  Here in Colombo, Christian cell phone tones echo from buses.

Devotees march to Murugan Temple, Jaffna

Devotee hangs from hooks, Jaffna

In Sri Lanka religion also narrows identity and serves as an additional barrier between ethnic groups.  Buddhists are Sinhalese, and most Tamils are Hindu (there is a minority Christian population).    Muslims also speak Tamil, but whether they are “Tamil people” is a contentious issue.

Mosque in Jaffna

Public religious profession extends to politicians as well.  President Rajapaksa finished his most recent United Nations General Assembly speech with a blessing of the “triple gem,” the symbol for three major tenets of Buddhism: Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha.

Buddha, Dambulla

Sri Lanka’s constitution endorses this religious fervor:

The Republic of Sri Lanka shall give to Buddhism the foremost place and accordingly it shall be the duty of the State to protect and foster the Buddha Sasana, while assuring to all religions [basic] rights. (Chap. 2.9)

In post war Sri Lanka, religion is also being used as a means to change the ethnic landscape.  In addition to changing street and village names from Tamil to Sinhala, the government and army have constructed Buddhist Temples and statutes traditional on Tamil lands.  In Batticaloa, for instance, the Special Task Force (STF) told villagers to vacate their land to make way for a new temple- a Hindu Murugan Temple.  They even asked the villagers to assist with the initial land clean up.  The first few days of construction revealed that the STF was actually constructing a Buddhist Temple.

Kovil-Trinco

Many Tamils in the North and East see these installations as early steps toward the total “Sinhalization” of their homeland.  According to Tamils I’ve spoken with, new Buddhist Temples pave the way for claims to historical ownership and invite new occupiers into the north and east.

For example, in Jaffna, the Army occupies the Kantharodai archaeological site. The Army changed the name of the site, installed Buddhist statutes in trailers, and now welcomes droves of Sinhalese tourists every day.  While the Army feels it is protecting the site, Tamil villagers view the military presence as continued oppression and occupation.

Kantharodai

These sharp divisions illustrate the central theme of my experience in Sri Lanka:  May 19, 2009 signaled the end of the war, but not an end to the island’s conflict.

photo credit: Revolution in Sourth Asia, An Internationalist Info Project, http://southasiarev.wordpress.com

Women’s participation in the LTTE has fascinated academics, journalists, and policy makers for years.  In fact, for many people, the LTTE automatically brings to mind images of sari-clad suicide bombers.  While the suicide bomber phenomenon garners significant media attention in general, something about a woman blowing herself up seems to kindle new realms of incomprehensibility.

Accordingly, language changes when journalists discuss female suicide bombers.  A journalist from Marie Claire described her first impressions of a failed LTTE suicide bomber with language the media rarely employs for men: “with her long black hair neatly pulled back from her chocolate-colored skin, she is shy, soft-spoken — the kind of person you’d trust with your kids.”  Like the Marie Claire article, this Al Jazeera story exposes “the softer side” of the potential suicide bomber they profile.

The change in language reflects a larger divide in the way people discuss women’s participation in the conflict.  Usually conversations about women in conflict revolve around civilian casualties, loss of homes and property, and sexual violence.  My conversations with Tamil women in Sri Lanka have indicated that women’s roles, relationships, and contributions to the LTTE were much more complicated.

In a 2003 interview, the currently imprisoned head of the LTTE’s political wing, Thamilini, explained,

Thamilini. photo credit: http://www.thenee.com/html/040709-2.html

We participate in our liberation struggle on an equal footing with the men….. Any oppression prevailing upon a society will affect its women.  In fact, in most cases, they are more affected.  This is because in our society the woman bears the greater responsibility for the home and the family... She should defend herself and face the oppression.  Neither a father, a son, a relative, nor a husband can protect her.  When the army attacks a village it will torture the men and kill them, then the women are molested and killed. If women do not face this who does?…

The necessity to fight has arisen, in order to regain that free and ordinary life….We are fighters, and have to bear that responsibility. However we too have our ordinary lives; our fighters get married, live among ordinary people, dress as others do, but when it comes to our historical responsibility we have to take on a different role.  It is wrong to regard us as heartless automatons.

The way a woman should behave and comport herself in society is predetermined and these limits cannot be transgressed… Opinions cannot be expressed in public and injustice must be borne in silence. But this training and knowledge we acquired after joining the movement was totally different. We not only acquired the combativeness required to face an invading army, but also the wisdom to face life itself…

watch the entire interview here:

Whether this was top-down political pontification or a reality for most women in the LTTE (or in LTTE occupied territory) depends on whom you ask.  Some women have told me that during the LTTE occupation they felt equal to men, free from harassment, and invested in their wider struggle.  Women in other villages organized for political and social change during the war.  These women came together to demand that female soldiers searched female civilians, to fight to get family members out of detention, and to make crucial decisions in their communities.  On the other hand, women have told me about fleeing forced recruitment, losing family members, and of hardships under the constant watch of the LTTE.

Tamil women. photo credit: Tamilnet.com

Women’s experiences before, during, and after LTTE occupation illustrate a common refrain I’ve heard throughout my time in Sri Lanka: contrary to popular images, the end of the war has not automatically translated into direct improvements in anyone’s lives.

Last week I met Marisa, a young human rights activist who recently moved to Jaffna.  Like other amazing advocates I’ve met in Sri Lanka, Marisa is energetic, passionate, and loves a good laugh.  Unlike other rights activists I’ve met, Marisa is Sinhalese (Sri Lanka’s ethnic majority).  I asked Marisa about her experiences during the conflict and about the ways ethnicity has shaped her work, activism, and life in Jaffna.

Jaffna Town

Sri Lanka has been in conflict for your entire life.  What was it like growing up in that climate?  What are your early memories of the conflict?  Were you always aware of what was going on?

Although I was literally born into the conflict era, I wasn’t quite aware of the extent of the conflict, its origin and its repercussions until I was much older.  However, I was told stories about 1983, because my father was on the road during the riots, and he had to hide our Tamil driver until he got to my aunt’s place, where my family was hiding some other Tamil relations of ours.

Initially it was the sporadic suicide bomb attacks and assassinations that kept reminding us that a war was waging in the North.  Other than the bombs, the war was distant to us, and we were generally detached from people being killed…unless of course we knew people in the forces or if someone we knew got killed by a bomb.  My uncle was killed when a claymore mine exploded in Willpattu.  That was the closest the war came to home for me.  However, as I grew up, and started to see the world for what it really was, and I started to feel more passionate and vocal about the war, and about how it was being carried out.

Marisa

What motivated you to do human rights work?

I’m not very sure what the exact trigger was for me, but from the time I was young I guess, I’ve always rooted for the “under-dog.”  Friends used to call me a “ union leader” sometimes.

I hate injustice. Always have. And I have always wanted to do something about it when it’s in my presence.  So, I guess it’s in my nature in a sense.  But also, my eyes were opened to the reality we live in by a group of young people I met a few years ago.  It’s essentially after that that I really went head-first into this sort of work.  I began to realize that there was so much shit going on right before our eyes, and I just couldn’t let myself turn a blind eye to it.  So, it’s not really a concerted choice I made as such, but more out of a sense of civic consciousness that I acted, I guess.

Talk about your experiences as a Sinhalese person in a Tamil organization.  (Although everyone works under the banner of universal human rights, there is a lot of resentment towards Sinhalese people.)  How has this played out for you?

Well initially, when I found out I was the only Sinhalese, I was a little uncomfortable, because I thought I’d be looked upon as the enemy, and that people would just “tolerate” me because I had been hired by the boss.  Of course my boss was more than happy to have me on board, especially because I was Sinhalese; she thought it was time for change.

Even though it’s possible that at first, staffers might have had their reservations about me, I decided that I had to make an effort to win their trust.  And not in a deceptive way, or by trying too hard to be accepted, but, in a sense by being myself and hoping that I’d be accepted for who I am, rather than what I’m supposed to represent (ethnicity wise, I mean).

There have been ups and downs.  I’ve heard that some people thought I was with Military Intelligence  because apparently “for a Sinhalese to be so sensitive to the Tamils’ grievances” I would have to be in Intelligence.

I can’t really blame people who think that way because in their experience the Sinhalese have always been the “bad guys…” and probably vice versa for most Sinhalese who’ve been affected by the war.  This is why we all need to be sensitive and empathetic towards everyone’s feelings and backgrounds.  If I were quick to judge and take offense, then I probably wouldn’t have lasted long here.  I take each day as a challenge, especially when I’m in Jaffna, and so far, most people accept me for who I am once they get to know me (and vice versa).  So each day, I live and learn.

decaying boats in Kayts, Jaffna District

What is it like living in Jaffna one year after the end of the conflict? Do you think your experience in Jaffna is impacted by your ethnicity? Do you get the feeling that life has improved for people in Jaffna (or in the rest of Sri Lanka) since the end of the war?
Well it’s strangely peaceful, but, in a subdued way of sorts.  People go about their daily routine, but there’s this sense of desolation and sadness in the air.  From the half destroyed houses, to the glazed eyes, to the heavy military presence, it’s just not your average day-to-day existence.  Every move, every breath, involves the shifting of this large burden that has most often been passed down from generation to generation.  There’s nothing “normal” about this new-found “normalcy.”  Of course it’s a relief to the people that they don’t have to worry about missiles flying overhead.  But, as far as security goes, that’s about all most people have an assurance about.  There are still children, siblings, spouses and parents who have been detained, or are missing.  Nobody’s addressing these people’s trauma.  They live every day of their lives re-living all their pain and holding back their grief.  People still don’t have homes, jobs, or hope.  Of course, the town is bustling, and the A9 (the road that connects Jaffna to the rest of the country) is open so there’s an exchange of products.  But, life is far from normal still, and will remain this way as long as both the government and the rest of the country choose to live in denial.

jaffnasign

It’s more than just easy to be pessimistic, it’s almost inevitable. It’s a daily battle, because each day, there’s one more reason to be frustrated, disappointed or pessimistic.  As it stands, I don’t see much hope for Sri Lanka…unless there’s some sort of divine intervention, our opposition party suddenly grows a pair, and our minority parties leave aside their petty agendas, unite, learn from past mistakes, and actually work with the best interests of the people they represent at heart.  Sri Lanka also has many young, intelligent, change-makers who would make ideal politicians.  However, the chances of them ever getting the space or opportunity to make a difference are rather bleak.  But, of course we will keep fighting the futility, hoping amidst the hopelessness, and aspiring for a better tomorrow, because if we don’t, we won’t have the strength or incentive to wake up each morning.

Last week, the government passed a constitutional amendment that ends term limits for the president, eliminates critical checks and balances, and ultimately deals a death knell to democracy in Sri Lanka.  As activists carried democracy’s casket through the streets of Colombo, I ventured to  the war torn Northern Province of Sri Lanka.

gate on palali

Throuought Sri Lanka’s history, the North’s major city, Jaffna (or Yalpanam, as it’s called in Tamil), has been a center of Tamil political organizing, and therefore an area of  massive displacement and extreme violence.  In 1995, after years of fighting, the Sri Lankan Army reclaimed the peninsula from the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE).  For the next 15 years, Jaffna residents witnessed military operations, disappearances, raids, and massacres in their villages.  Since the end of the war in May 2009,  Sri Lanka’s army, navy, and air force have maintained multiple bases and outposts, high security zones, camps, and checkpoints throughout the territory.

On my air force chaperoned bus from the airport to Jaffna,  I noticed an overwhelming number of bullet-ridden abandoned, destroyed, and evacuated homes.  The empty houses don’t shock people who understand Jaffna’s history; every single one of Jaffna’s 600,000 residents has been displaced at least once and about 100,000 people from Jaffna still live in Internally Displaced Person (IDP) camps.  Demographers estimate that Jaffna’s current population would rival Colombo’s had it not been for the violence and displacement.

In town

Political Ads

Some families decided to escape violence and occupation.  Other families had no choice.  For instance, in October 1990  the LTTE gave Jaffna’s 14,800 Muslims two hours to leave the city.  (In 2000, the LTTE apologized for the mass expulsions – but only after over 75,000 Muslims had already left their homes in the Northern Province).  In 1995, as the Sri Lankan Army encroached into the LTTE’s territory and tension and violence escalated, 450,000 Tamils fled their homes.  For over 30 years, Jaffna’s population has shifted and shrunk with each occupation and every incidence of violence.

kayts house

greenhouse

columns

After a few days in Jaffna, I began to hear the stories behind the numbers and the empty houses:

This woman owns a large tract of land and a house in her village.  She decided to leave after a bomb killed her sister and other women who were waiting to buy milk at a government cooperative shop.  Now that the fighting has ended, she wants to return to her village, but the military has designated the land as part of a “high security zone.”  Like thousands of other families, she cannot access her home or her land until the military relinquishes control.  This woman echoed statements I heard from dozens of Jaffna residents:  military occupation sparks LTTE era nostalgia, fuels ethnic tensions, and makes reconciliation impossible.

This woman said that leaving home was the only way to prevent the LTTE from enlisting her son.  While he successfully avoided this forced recruitment, the family could not escape Sri Lanka’s violence.  She lost her eye to a bomb in 2006 and has bullets in her neck.  The injuries cause daily headaches, fatigue, and unrelenting pain.  Her brother, his wife, and their children also decided to flee their home in the North, only to be killed by a bomb one night while eating dinner.

downtown2

Kayts wall

Unfortunately, most Jaffna residents can share similarly devastating stories.  As the region starts the post-war revitalization process, these empty homes serve as constant reminders of past violence, current injustices, and future struggles.

Being white in Sri Lanka has its perks.  For example, I can easily slip into any of Colombo’s four-star hotels to lift toilet paper from the bathrooms, read the paper, or indulge in high quality lobby coffee.

Being white in Sri Lanka also has its drawbacks.  I am often at the receiving end of assumptions, “you people” comments, and unwanted stares.  Sometimes I get all three at once: “those men are staring at you because you white people usually walk around half-naked and they’re looking for a glimpse of your legs.”

Without exception, passing young men will meow, “Hellllloooo, how are youuuuu?” and I’ve seen more than one man trip while gawking at me.  A friend of mine from India who frequently has the pleasure of witnessing these displays says that I’m treated like an animal in a zoo.

Part of me understands that this attention goes with the territory.  At other times, I want to scream, cover myself from head to toe, and explain that ignorance can go both ways.

[Street sign from Blank Noise, an Indian organization that fights street level sexual harassment. http://blog.blanknoise.org/]

When children stare at me, I react differently; I say Hi, I take their picture, I ask their names.  Kids don’t bring the added baggage of colonialism or Hollywood or ingrained expectations to our interactions.  For them, I’m just a curiosity.

Yesterday, for instance, I went to an Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camp to discuss human rights violations with residents.  After about 15 minutes, dozens of kids had stealthily slunk past the windows to get a glimpse of the white lady.  Two kids in particular thought that I was the funniest thing they’d seen.  Ever.

As always, a sense of humor conquers all.

the pitch!

Every Sri Lankan loves cricket.

News headlines feature players’ personal and professional ups and downs, cable TV subscribers have access to multiple 24-7  cricket channels, and kids play pick-up games whenever they have a tennis ball and five minutes to spare.

The Sri Lankan National Cricket Team gives the country plenty to obsess about.  In addition to holding numerous world records, the team won the Cricket World Cup in 1996, the ICC Champions Trophy in 2002, and placed second in the 2007 World Cup.  Cricketers marry, divorce, and procreate often enough to provide fodder for tabloids.   And in 2009, unidentified armed men attacked the national team in Lahore, Pakistan.  The attackers killed two police officers, a driver, and injured six Sri Lankan players.

Until very recently, like most Americans, I was not a cricket enthusiast.  Everything I knew about cricket I learned from a six-hour Bollywood extravaganza, Lagaan.  Plus, I was leery of any sport that involved sweater vests and tea breaks.

Last week, Community Development Groups from Sri Lanka’s tea plantations organized an estate-wide “5-over” tournament as part of a voter awareness program.   These estate community leaders converted me from a cricket skeptic into a budding fan.  I learned about the sport’s subtleties, the beauty of a good batsman, and the importance of exercising my right to vote.

cricket team captains

Players and spectators braved intermittent rain, meandering cows, and the most affectionate leeches on earth to make the event a success.  Before the match started, we built a tent for the fans, took a few practice swings, and lit an oil lamp to make sure that that the righteousness of Dharma governed the event.

players and spectators escape the rain

players wait to hit the pitch

During the matches, my cricket mentors continuously mentioned Muttiah “Murali” Muralitharan, the first and only Tamil on Sri Lanka’s national team.  When he retired in July 2010, Murali had a stack of world records, the distinction of “reinventing spin bowling,” and the unequivocal adoration of Sri Lanka’s cricket fans.

photo credit: sumedha.blogspot.com

Like the ancestors of most estate cricketers who participated in the voter awareness tournament, Murali’s grandfather left India to work on Sri Lanka’s tea estates in 1920.  In what has been seen as either a denial of his Tamil origins or a prudent public relations decision, Murali avoids political commentary or speaking Tamil in public.  Despite his silence, journalists often point to Murali as a shinning example of ethnic amity.

However, human rights activists I’ve talked to disagree.  For them,  Murali’s harmonious integration into Sri Lanka’s national team does not symbolize a coming together of ethnic groups or a promise of a brighter future.  Instead, he perpetuates the notion that Tamils should completely assimilate.  As one independent journalist put it: “Murali’s apolitical tact in public utterances as professional cricketer also denotes exactly how a Tamil should behave: recognized and even venerated for his talent, as long as he knows his place within the firmament and desists from making impertinent and awkward claims.”

In the match of ethnic strife vs. sport, the power of cricket prevails: even Tamils who dislike Murali love Sri Lanka cricket and celebrate the team’s successes regardless of the bowler’s ethnicity.

Watch and learn:

From now on, I’ll join the cricketer/activists from the estates and millions of fans around the world who anxiously await the next Murali.

cricket is the ultimate spectator sport

While the international community focuses on war crimes allegations in the North and East of Sri Lanka, centuries old, systemic rights abuses—including, some argue, genocide—have been given space to flourish in Sri Lanka’s more peaceful regions.

Up-Country estate view

This week I visited one of those areas: Up-Country (or Hill Country), a gorgeous, rambling, lush swath of land in the middle of Sri Lanka.  In addition to countless waterfalls, the region is home to hundreds of plantations or “estates” that produce Sri Lanka’s most important agricultural product: tea.

tea plantation

Nearly all of the island’s 200,000 plantation workers are Tamil descendants of Indian laborers the British brought to Sri Lanka in the nineteenth century.  In the long tradition of imported labor, tea pluckers and their families live on the estates and spend most of their lives working, socializing, and consuming within parameters established by their employers.

tea pluckers

kids on the estate

Estate management requires tea pluckers to collect 18 kilos (about 40 pounds) of tealeaves per day.  In exchange, each employee receives about five dollars a day, housing, and some other basic services.  Although tea pluckers play a vital role in Sri Lanka’s economy, living conditions on the estates fail to meet the minimum standards other Sri Lankans expect.  Plantation workers walk miles to take their children to school, drive down treacherous roads to get to hospitals, study without electricity, and rely on politically-backed trade unions to resolve labor issues.

tea crates

Estate management falls especially short when it comes to health care.  When an estate does have a medical professional, it’s usually someone who speaks Sinhala, has pharmacological training, and who provides services for over 1,000 families.  Women routinely give birth en route to the hospital and several women told me that estate management  encourages sterilization as part of a “planned genocide.”

estate dispensary

woman on estate

Lots of tourists visit the plantations to sample tea and to take pictures, but I actually got to meet estate employees who work to ameliorate conditions in the tea sector.   I saw their homes, I visited the pre-school they built, and I met with their community development groups.  These families work extremely hard, but they also know how to have fun.  On the day I visited, a group of community activists organized an estate-wide cricket competition as part of a voter education program.  Estate workers are incredible athletes and patient teachers (it’s not easy being an American at a cricket match).  Later this week I’ll fill you in on my first-ever cricket outing and more Up-Country first-evers including oil lamp ceremonies and leeches.

cricket kids

I’ve just returned from a very intense week of travel around Sri Lanka.  I heard inspiring and heartbreaking stories from torture survivors, displaced people, victims of military harassment, and targets of ethnic hatred.  I also had the privilege to meet the human rights activists who courageously tackle these issues in the face of regular intimidation.

At the same time, the trip gave me the opportunity to take in beautiful landscapes, amazing home cooked meals, gorgeous untouched beaches, and incredibly elaborate Hindu Temples.

This is a barber shop

While I work on processing the immensity of last week, I’ll leave you with something lighter: a sampling of Sri Lankan cuisine.

Breakfast

Breakfast includes a selection of fruits: plantains, papaya, mango (sprinkled with chili powder), wood apple, pineapple, jackfruit, coconut, and the list goes on…

fruit

Sri Lankans will also eat bowl-shaped crepe-like hoppers, string hoppers (vermicelli patties), or pittu (wheat flower mixed with coconut) with dal, curry, or sambol, a delicious mix of coconut, chili pepper, and onion. I’ve also had roti, bread with jam and butter, and seven-dollar boxes of mango-flavored Corn Flakes for breakfast.

all-stars making hoppers and roti:

Snacks and Tea

At about 10:30 teatime rolls around.  “Short eats,” samosas, fried potato with curry, or roti, might accompany tea.  For people who want to take in high levels of sugar and milk minus the tea, a mango-flavored milk-box does the trick.

Short Eats

Buns, Cakes, Rotis, at Canny's

tea!

milk!

Lunch

Rice and curry constitutes the staple dish of any Sri Lankan’s diet (a possibility for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!). At lunch I usually get 70 cent prepared packet of vegetable, chicken, or fish rice and curry.  Lunch might be served in a styrofoam box, in six plastic bags, or in a banana leaf.  While slight differences exist between ethnic groups- Singhalese eat red rice and Dutch Burghers add sugar to the mix- the basic lunch parcel will always contain a hunk of rice and several sauces, curries, and vegetables   Once I open my parcel, I dig in with my finger-tips and combine the curry, vegetables, chili pepper, and sauces.   Then I’ll grab handfuls of rice and curry, bags of sauces, and fried chip-like papadums to pass between friends.

lunch!

mixing lunch

burgher rice and curry

homemade lunch

Dinner

In addition to rice and curry, Colombo offers sushi, Indian food, Thai food, and great veggie burgers (for a price).  Sometimes I’ll stop for Kottu, a stir-fry of rotti with egg, fish, or chicken.  I usually hear the sharp clanging of blades slicing the rotis before I know exactly where I’ll get it.

Then of course there are those times when Pizza Hut is so necessary.

This week on the road was fascinating, exhausting, and overwhelming. Through it all, I always managed to sit down with my team to share our ideas, a good laugh, and a delicious meal.

Women played myriad roles during Sri Lanka’s war: soldier, disappeared person, suicide bomber, student, victim of sexual violence, political organizer, mother, refugee, political prisoner, LTTE member, victim of torture, internally displaced person, widow…and the list goes on.

I had a very brief opportunity to talk to Carmella*, a Tamil human rights advocate, about her experiences during the conflict in Sri Lanka:

Tell me about growing up

I was born and raised in Jaffna. Many young boys got arrested and every day we could see their bodies which were tied to the electric posts.  One day early in the morning I went to my tuition class in the dark.  On the road to my tuition class one man was shot dead and hanged on an electric post.  That was one of the worst experiences of my childhood.  I could tell you many stories like this.

Feet

How do you think women have particularly suffered from the conflict?

Women have suffered a lot through this conflict…most of the women are leading women-headed households and they were forced to handle all the activities alone.  One example is my mother. She had seven children when her husband was disappeared.  She was compelled to carry out all the responsibilities.

Why did you decide to do human rights work?

My father’s disappearance when I was 7 and the personal experiences which I went through in my childhood brought me to the human rights field.

What do think about the international response to human rights abuses in Sri Lanka?

Everyone has to pay more attention to human rights in Sri Lanka.  People are starving because of the economic problems. In the meantime, the country’s direction depends on the decisions of one family. This violates the rights of others- mostly in the Tamil speaking community.

I know you are pregnant with your first child, do you see hope for the future?

Yes. I wish that my child won’t face any of the forms of violations I faced in the past.

நன்றி (thank you), Carmella