We arrive at the Batticaloa office of the Home for Human Rights at 11.30 and come face to face with the tear-stained face of Rajamani Sarathaden and her five year-old son Dinesh.

The two have just come from visiting Poopalapillai, Rajamani’s husband, who was arrested by a security patrol on September 4, after some shots were fired in the area. Poopalipillai had been fishing all night and there was nothing to connect him with the incident. His wife says that he has broken teeth and has been badly bruised around his face.

Rajamani Sarathaden, with her son, after visiting her jailed husband.

Under Sri Lankan law, Poopalapillai should be charged within 48 hours, or released. But he is being held under a special state of emergency that was declared after the assassination of the Foreign Minister, which makes it possible to remand suspects indefinitely. The fact that he has visible wounds makes it unlikely that he will be released soon, because he would be able to prove torture. In fact, the authorities are hurrying to charge him before the emergency expires. Things do not look good for this fisherman and his family.

Extrajudicial killings have increased since the present government took office in September 2004, and arrests have spiked with the current emergency. Indeed, Siva, the HHR lawyer, has received 13 cases like this in the last few days and he expects the number to rise as word gets around that HHR is taking testimony. It is a depressing reminder that HHR cannot afford to let its work with the Tsunami get in the way of its traditional support for torture victims and detainees.

It helps Rajamani to have a sympathetic audience, but she is also on the verge of panic. Dabbing at tears, she tells the lawyer that her first husband was shot dead in 1987, leaving her with three children. She married again and now has another three children.

HHR cannot afford to let its work with the Tsunami get in the way of its traditional support for torture victims and detainees.

With her husband in jail, she is the sole breadwinner for six young dependants. She feeds them by going out into the forests every day and cutting wood. This brings her 40 rupees (40 cents) which is enough to pay for one meal a day. At this rate, malnutrition is probably not far off.

Rajamani’s distress is particularly uncomfortable for those of us who have just arrived from Colombo. How can we relax after the long journey while we’re sitting near to a woman who is feeding six children on 40 cents a day? I choose the easy way and slip her 400 rupees ($4). I tell her that I am paying to take her photo, lest others get it into their heads that HHR is giving out charity.

This draws a look of admiration from Sanathani, Xavier’s assistant, who tells me that many foreigners take photos of the Tsunami victims but do not reward their subjects. But this also leaves me feeling uncomfortable. 400 rupees is a paltry sum – have I given enough? Will I now need to pay everyone whose photo I take? Have I started down a slippery slope by giving to an individual? Everything I’ve read and heard warns against giving out money to individuals.

I seem to have stepped into some deep water. But there are times when you have to put calculation to one side and act as one human being to another, and this one of them.

At least there is no chance of this family becoming lazy – one of the arguments often made against charity.