I have always assumed that any mischief in this aid operation would come from the Sinhalese authorities withholding aid from Tamils. This turns out to be grossly over-simplified. The sort of discrimination happening here is much more subtle, as becomes startlingly clear when we visit Manalchenai, some 50 kilometers south of Batticaloa.

HHR has received a list of 65 families in Manalchenai who are angry at having been denied aid – so angry, in fact, that they have formed an association to lobby. When they heard that HHR might be a source of support they submitted a lengthy list of needs, including toilets, wells, and houses.

Challenging the status quo: Xavier (left) and Arula Nandam listen as the Manalchenai villagers make their case.

I had never imagined that the Home for Human Rights would be building toilets and I’m not sure that such infrastructural support is a good idea. But Xavier has been energized by the drive and determination of the 65 families, who are clearly not prepared to accept their karma lying down. We head out to investigate.

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Black water tanks festooned with NGO logos stand like sentries beside the road leading into Manalchenai. These are for the use of the inhabitants from a nearby village who are living in temporary shelters. The shelters are spacious, and the water is plentiful.

It is a different matter as we turn off the main road and enter the sprawling village of Manalchenai. An invisible line seems to split the village. On one side there are wells, trees, land under cultivation, and a school building. On the other side, in the direction of the sea, the land is poor, the trees are stunted, the wells are stinking open pits.

This is where the discontented 65 families live. Like the Poonichimunai families, their parents and grandparents originally lived and worked on the tea estates, before being driven out in September 1977. They moved to one village, found no work, and moved again to Manalchenai where they settled on public land that happened to lie in the direct path of the Tsunami. They managed to reach higher ground where they spent a month eating bark and plants, and climbing trees to escape marauding elephants, before returning back to their homes.

With all the official channels closed to them, the 65 families have found it almost impossible to get assistance from international agencies.

These families have received some tents from a private German donor, but they have not seen a single rupee of the 5,000 rupees promised to every Tsunami-affected family by the Sri Lankan government. The reason emerges as we sit under a large tree.

In order to qualify for aid, families have to register with their grama seveka, a government-appointed official who acts as a mayor. Unaccountably (and illegally) Manalchenai has no grama seveka. One woman cycled several kilometers to plead with the grama seveka in the next village, only to be told that all 65 families would have to appear in person. They had no better luck with their District Secretary a more senior government representative. He sent them on to another District Secretary, where they were predictably turned away.

They met the same reaction from fellow villagers. Every village has a rural development society, and many aid agencies have used the societies to distribute aid, giving them enormous power. The 65 families say that they have appealed repeatedly to the president of their society. Eventually they went in a group to demand that their representative be elected to the council. They were threatened with physical violence.

With all the official channels closed to them, the 65 families have found it almost impossible to get assistance from international agencies. We are told that the International Organization of Migration offered to help but was discouraged by the District Secretary, who described the 65 families as outsiders and “encroachers” – a demeaning term.

The NGO ADRA brought in some black water tanks outside houses, but omitted to provide pedestals and water. Most of the houses here draw water from kottus, which are deep holes lined with concrete and are almost dry. Another man shows us the remains of a toilet that collapsed as soon as it was erected.

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The hostility being shown to the Manalchenai families seems different from the raw prejudice that we have found in other villages. The 65 families are convinced that the local government is trying to force them out and turn the land back to Muslim landowners. The land was once owned by a Muslim landowner, until it was broken up under land reform.

High and dry: M. Selliah’s water tank has yet to hold water.

If so, this would seem to fit a pattern. A subtle struggle is underway between Muslim and Hindu/Christian Tamils in several villages, and the Muslims appear to be gaining the upper hand. The Tsunami has strengthened their hand, because Islamic donors have been particularly generous.

Whatever the cause of their ostracism, the 65 families have challenged the social order. These 65 families are led by a retired government official, Arula Nandam who is from the area and is – in local terms – relatively affluent. He has taken charge, channeled their anger, organized them into a group, approached HHR, and formed an association – of which he is the president.

Is he legitimate, or is this a grab for power? Arula Nandam has the confidence of the families who are quite happy to follow his lead. They all voted to elect a committee for their new association. Each family pays 25 rupees a month, and they now have 14,000 rupees ($140) in a bank account. The treasurer produces carbon receipts. It is unfortunate that the 11-member committee only includes two women, but that is democracy.

And democracy, as we all know, can be deeply subversive. Not only does this initiative threaten the power of the Manalchenai Rural Development Society. By approaching a human rights organization like HHR, the 65 families have increased the chance that their grievances will be put to the government. There can be no returning back to the status quo ante for Manalchenai. To judge from our visit, this may be no bad thing.

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Xavier does not see it this way. He responds with the instincts of the human rights advocate, and sees the issue in terms of fairness and accountability. The rights of the 65 families must be protected and the authorities called to account. As a lawyer, he knows how to defend clients.

All of this translates into a varied program of activities. HHR will fund the construction of two public wells in the disadvantaged part of the village and ten toilets. The villagers will contribute labor (which we estimate at 85,000 rupees – a sizable amount).

There can be no returning back to the status quo ante for Manalchenai. To judge from our visit, this may be no bad thing.

HHR will also start a sewing project for 22 women who have requested it, modeled on the Poonichimunai success. The villagers have already identified a building, so there will be no rent. HHR will also help them to register their association.

Finally, and most ambitiously, HHR lawyers will see whether they can help the families secure titles to their land. None of the Manalchenai families have land titles on either side of the invisible divide. This might conceivably bring them together, although to judge from this visit it will also take a lot to heal the wounds.