Nasivanteevu Village, September 25: In the village of Nasivanteevu we finally come face to face with war.

This is not to say that the war has been entirely absent. Patrols from the government’s Special Task Force are everywhere, and the LTTE operates checkpoints a few miles further inland. Still, we have found that the war has less immediate impact on the distribution of aid than local traditions, attitudes, and structures of power.

Not so in Nasivanteevu. The village lies well to the north of Batticaloa and is encircled by a large lagoon on side, and government forces on the other. LTTE patrols pass through regularly, which further invite the attention of the army. Twenty years of this has taken a terrible tool. Out of the village’s 1,300 inhabitants, 144 have been arrested and tortured, 46 killed as a result of the war, 31 women widowed, and 5 children orphaned.

When the Tsunami smashed into the village, many villagers saw it as one more episode in a never-ending calamity. By the time the water receded, another 5 women had lost husbands, 20 more villagers had died, 63 houses had been destroyed and three more children had lost both parents. We stand for a moment’s silence to remember both sets of victims, under a huge, hundred-year old Banyan tree. Nasivanteevu is the only community to do this. It feels like a political statement.

*

Because of its isolation and suspected ties to the LTTE, Nasivanteevu was initially ignored by the aid agencies. The situation was rectified by yet another act of civic impatience. Under the leadership of their president Paranthaman, several members of the Nasivanteevu Youth Club formed a delegation and went to lobby their Regional Secretary.

“For 90 days we made agitation,” says Paranthaman, a confident young man. Their protest eventually provoked a response. The government and aid agencies have given 15 lake canoes, 32 nets, 19 sea-fishing canoes, a ferry boat, and promised 250 houses.

But one major need is as yet unmet – jobs. The youth club is asking for vocational training for 52 unemployed members. Half want to learn how to repair tractors, and the other half want to repair outboard motors. This could be their way to break Nasivanteevu’s isolation.

HHR is keen to make some kind of a commitment because it would have an effective partner to work with in the Youth Club. HHR will only have money to cover the cost of 10 trainings, but Parasuraman, HHR’s field officer, has already found a German NGO to undertake the cost of the outboard motor training. Xavier decides to approach the Bishop of Batticaloa and sound him out about supporting the remaining 16 young men.

*

We are about to leave when, quite unexpectedly, another group comes forward. They will prove much harder to assist.

Until now I have barely noticed that more than half of those at the meeting are women, even though some of the weathered faces at the front are quite memorable. Then someone mentions a word, and there is a sudden fluttering in the crowd. Frail figures begin to rise like wraiths and come to the front, where they settle on the ground with barely a murmur and look at us solemnly. These are the widows of Nasivanteevu.

From the point of view of aid donors, widows are in a special category with special needs. They are known in the jargon as “EVIS” (extremely vulnerable individuals).

Few would dispute the label. One of the five women who was widowed by the Tsunami, 66 year-old S. Marimuthu, tells us how the body of her late husband was found with an umbrella in one hand and a knife in the other. Her daughter also lost a child in the Tsunami. Marimuthu is staying in an abandoned house and is completely dependent on one son who lives in another village.

HHR would like to encourage these widows to work together and perhaps form a cooperative, but there is little enthusiasm for the idea. Some of the women on the ground are not widows and argue that they also need help.

As for the widows themselves, they do not necessarily identify with other widows. Xavier’s assistant Sanathani points out that the label of “widow,” which makes so much sense to us, might be seen as a stigma and make it harder for them to deal with the loss on their own terms. There are major differences of age, income and ability between the widows that might make it hard to form an association.

We try a different tack. How would they feel about forming a women’s association that would give special attention to those women who have special needs, like widows? We offer to contribute nine rupees for every rupee contributed by a member and contribute some capital for projects. This seems acceptable. Parasuraman and Sanathani will return and start putting the idea in practice.

This visit has raised serious questions about another basic assumption of donors – that stricken communities will take care of their own and accept responsibility for their most vulnerable members.

The start of the meeting made me feel that Nasivanteevu was especially motivated. Now I am not so sure.