REPORTER: Nick Lazaredes
Like almost everyone else living on Sri Lanka's
normally serene coastline, Jalat and Susani Chamali and their three children had no inkling of what a tsunami really was and only had only seconds to react.
SUSANI, WIFE (Translation): The waves were coming towards us.
JALAT, (Translation): We didn't realise it was a tsunami. We thought it was just rough sea.
This small concrete slab is all that remains of the family home - testament to the power of the tsunami which nearly claimed their lives.
SON, (Translation): The waves came and struck us all of a sudden. More and More waves came. We went over there, and the waves were so strong they hit the gate. More and more waves came and the door got jammed shut. The windows smashed. My mother was screaming.
JALAT, (Translation): I was terrified. Then the water came up to my shoulder. If it hadn't been for me they'd all be dead.
Within 15 minutes of the first tsunami strike on Sri Lanka's southern coast, a cameraman in the city of Galle captured its devastating impact
40,000 lives were lost in the disaster. Livelihoods were ruined in an instant.
Fishing fleet destroyed, thousands of boats and more than a million fishing nets.
International donors gave nearly $1 billion to the Sri Lankan Government.
But 12 months on, less than a fifth of this money has been spent and the lack of progress is fuelling resentment.
FISHERMAN, (Translation): I never got anything. Only those who had more were able to get more. Only those who are already rich. We've been fishing for 15 years and we haven't received anything. We work as labourers, but we've received nothing.
Along Sri Lanka's coast, fishermen have always played a crucial economic role. Traditionally, fishing has always provided both a safety net and the ability to prosper. But a year after the disaster, fishermen say they and the families they support are the tsunami's forgotten victims.
FISHERMAN, (Translation): Foreign countries give money to the government. It's for helping these people. But they don't help. They keep all the money. They simply implement one project just for show. We hear that hundreds of thousands have been given.
For Jalat and his family, the past year has been a long struggle. Since their house was destroyed, they've lived high in the hills, almost 20km from the coast. This unbearably hot tin shed they call their home was only ever meant to be a temporary shelter. But a year on, the progress to get people into permanent homes is slow.
SUSANI, (Translation): We can't sleep properly when we're hungry. It's very hot. We can't eat when we're hungry. If they gave us a house, at least we'd have somewhere to live. There's nothing but sadness here. We've lost everything we earned.
JALAT, (Translation): The sea has taken it all.
But their living conditions form just part of the problem. That's because, for a fisherman living so far from the ocean, causes immense hardship. Jalat spends a good part of each day just getting to work and back. He gets home from the night's fishing at 6:30 in the morning and takes his children to school. He's lucky to get three hours sleep before he has to set out on his long journey back to the ocean.
JALAT, (Translation): I came here this morning, now I'm going straight back. I won't get any sleep at all. Last night I hardly got any sleep. It was different before the tsunami. We slept and ate well.
After a couple of hours walk to the coastal road, Jalat finally gets some relief in the form of a short 3-wheeler tuk-tuk journey to the outskirts of Galle.
JALAT, (Translation): Now there's no bus when we need it. 100 rupees. But at night you can't get one. Mostly I walk.
It's mid-afternoon by the time that he finally gets to his boat, with precious little time to prepare for the night ahead on the ocean.
Most of these boats were donated by foreign aid organisations in the months following the tsunami, but many arrived without motors, nets and other equipment forcing fishermen like Jalat to take out high-interest loans.
JALAT, (Translation): With great difficulty I've outfitted an old engine. Just yesterday I spent money repairing this engine. I never got a new engine. So even now I have a hard time as a fisherman.
Fishermen like Jalat are fed up with their government's promise of support and they've taken their struggle to the streets. Demonstrations like this one have been organised by unions like the Fishermen's Solidarity Movement. The unions suspect that the government wants to sell off their fishing rights to big business.
FISHERMAN, (Translation): Give us back our ocean...
But according to the governor of Sri Lanka's southern province, fishermen have nothing to complain about. He blames the country's powerful fishing union for causing trouble and unrest.
MR. WICKRAMARATNE, GOVERNOR OF SRI LANKA: Unions also live on the other man's problems. If they don't have, if they don't appear, they don't do something if they don't shout and create a problem, so they create a problem and they solve the problem themselves.
REPORTER: So what you're saying is that, for political reasons, they're manipulating these people?
GOVERNOR WICKRAMARATNE: Oh, yes, the union especially. This is part of the harbour which will be developed as an international yacht marina.
One of the most often heard complaints from poor locals is that the government is too obsessed with high-end development aimed mainly at the rich and visiting tourists. Certainly, Governor Wickramaratne has a grand vision for the region including a yacht marina, scores of international hotels European-style housing estates and an international sports complex.
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: One of the major attractions will be the cricket museum.
Developing the coast for big business means keeping the fishermen away, and also getting rid of the small-scale businesses that villagers have rebuilt since the tsunami.
At Unawatuna beach just outside of Galle, the tsunami wiped out what was a thriving tourist trade, but now the foreigners are beginning to trickle back. There's only one problem - these properties built on the beach and the surrounding area are illegal. Since the tsunami, the government has introduced a no-go buffer zone of 100 metres.
REPORTER: Technically most of those buildings there are illegal, aren't they?
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: They're all illegal.
REPORTER: They're all illegal?
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: Except for the hotels that are built up there.
REPORTER: OK, except for the big hotels?
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: Big hotels.
With official permission to rebuild given only to a few big
luxury hotels, small business owners in Unawatuna who ignored the new rules
are getting nervous.
SHIRLY KORALAGE, DIVER (Translation): The police warned us not to build. They warned us because of the buffer zone. They also warned that they would arrest whoever built anything. Yes, arrest. But all that lasted only a few days. Very soon, everyone began to build. And everyone has done so.
Shirly Koralage suffered a double blow in the tsunami, losing both his brother and his father. His father established the dive centre on the beach 16 years ago. Like many other Unawatuna residents, he's rebuilt his business without permission inside the buffer zone. But that's not Shirly's only problem. Unfortunately, his building lies right in front of the main beach access for a proposed 5-star hotel development and it's a project the governor is eager to see built.
REPORTER: Will it ever become a 5-star hotel, do you think?
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: Yeah, it's going to be a 5-star.
REPORTER: It will be.
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: People who are already having hotels in Colombo are building, trying to come in there, because we're going to give them a tax holiday, give them money in advance, a big loan, all of that, so a tax environment for them is created.
But that's cold comfort for Shirly, who seems resigned to the double standards at play between big business and small.
SHIRLY KORALAGE (Translation): If it's a big hotel, it's built on the shore. Only when poor people build is there a problem. They have to get permission from everywhere. When they build a hotel,
they say it's a big hotel and it will bring lots of jobs. But for us small-scale traders it's virtually impossible to get permission to build.
The governor clearly believes that big hotel developments are in the interests of everyone, including the fishermen.
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: Because fishermen also depends on the hotel industry. The hotel buys the fish from them, so, as a result, the industry, the tourist industry, keeps them alive.
On his nightly trips back to shore, Jalat has plenty of time to reflect on the challenges that lie ahead and he's continually worrying about those who depend on him.
JALAT, (Translation): A large number of people depend on our fishing industry. And our children... once we fishermen go to sea, our lives are at risk.
By the time Jalat returns to the harbour at Galle, it's 3:00 in the morning and tonight's catch was good, but the returns are low.
JALAT, (Translation): 89 kilos of fish at 60 per kilo makes about 4,000 or 5,000. So we take home about 200 rupees.
On average fishermen here receive about 70 cents a kilo, but with fuel costs averaging about $30 a trip, as well as maintenance and bank repayments, fishermen like Jalat are lucky to walk away with just a couple of dollars and a few leftover fish. There's no fortune being made here. And although plans for Sri Lanka's post-tsunami tourist paradise seem well advanced, the guardians of Sri Lanka's coastal tradition appear to have been left behind.
Like almost everyone else living on Sri Lanka's
normally serene coastline, Jalat and Susani Chamali and their three children had no inkling of what a tsunami really was and only had only seconds to react.
SUSANI, WIFE (Translation): The waves were coming towards us.
JALAT, (Translation): We didn't realise it was a tsunami. We thought it was just rough sea.
This small concrete slab is all that remains of the family home - testament to the power of the tsunami which nearly claimed their lives.
SON, (Translation): The waves came and struck us all of a sudden. More and More waves came. We went over there, and the waves were so strong they hit the gate. More and more waves came and the door got jammed shut. The windows smashed. My mother was screaming.
JALAT, (Translation): I was terrified. Then the water came up to my shoulder. If it hadn't been for me they'd all be dead.
Within 15 minutes of the first tsunami strike on Sri Lanka's southern coast, a cameraman in the city of Galle captured its devastating impact
40,000 lives were lost in the disaster. Livelihoods were ruined in an instant.
Fishing fleet destroyed, thousands of boats and more than a million fishing nets.
International donors gave nearly $1 billion to the Sri Lankan Government.
But 12 months on, less than a fifth of this money has been spent and the lack of progress is fuelling resentment.
FISHERMAN, (Translation): I never got anything. Only those who had more were able to get more. Only those who are already rich. We've been fishing for 15 years and we haven't received anything. We work as labourers, but we've received nothing.
Along Sri Lanka's coast, fishermen have always played a crucial economic role. Traditionally, fishing has always provided both a safety net and the ability to prosper. But a year after the disaster, fishermen say they and the families they support are the tsunami's forgotten victims.
FISHERMAN, (Translation): Foreign countries give money to the government. It's for helping these people. But they don't help. They keep all the money. They simply implement one project just for show. We hear that hundreds of thousands have been given.
For Jalat and his family, the past year has been a long struggle. Since their house was destroyed, they've lived high in the hills, almost 20km from the coast. This unbearably hot tin shed they call their home was only ever meant to be a temporary shelter. But a year on, the progress to get people into permanent homes is slow.
SUSANI, (Translation): We can't sleep properly when we're hungry. It's very hot. We can't eat when we're hungry. If they gave us a house, at least we'd have somewhere to live. There's nothing but sadness here. We've lost everything we earned.
JALAT, (Translation): The sea has taken it all.
But their living conditions form just part of the problem. That's because, for a fisherman living so far from the ocean, causes immense hardship. Jalat spends a good part of each day just getting to work and back. He gets home from the night's fishing at 6:30 in the morning and takes his children to school. He's lucky to get three hours sleep before he has to set out on his long journey back to the ocean.
JALAT, (Translation): I came here this morning, now I'm going straight back. I won't get any sleep at all. Last night I hardly got any sleep. It was different before the tsunami. We slept and ate well.
After a couple of hours walk to the coastal road, Jalat finally gets some relief in the form of a short 3-wheeler tuk-tuk journey to the outskirts of Galle.
JALAT, (Translation): Now there's no bus when we need it. 100 rupees. But at night you can't get one. Mostly I walk.
It's mid-afternoon by the time that he finally gets to his boat, with precious little time to prepare for the night ahead on the ocean.
Most of these boats were donated by foreign aid organisations in the months following the tsunami, but many arrived without motors, nets and other equipment forcing fishermen like Jalat to take out high-interest loans.
JALAT, (Translation): With great difficulty I've outfitted an old engine. Just yesterday I spent money repairing this engine. I never got a new engine. So even now I have a hard time as a fisherman.
Fishermen like Jalat are fed up with their government's promise of support and they've taken their struggle to the streets. Demonstrations like this one have been organised by unions like the Fishermen's Solidarity Movement. The unions suspect that the government wants to sell off their fishing rights to big business.
FISHERMAN, (Translation): Give us back our ocean...
But according to the governor of Sri Lanka's southern province, fishermen have nothing to complain about. He blames the country's powerful fishing union for causing trouble and unrest.
MR. WICKRAMARATNE, GOVERNOR OF SRI LANKA: Unions also live on the other man's problems. If they don't have, if they don't appear, they don't do something if they don't shout and create a problem, so they create a problem and they solve the problem themselves.
REPORTER: So what you're saying is that, for political reasons, they're manipulating these people?
GOVERNOR WICKRAMARATNE: Oh, yes, the union especially. This is part of the harbour which will be developed as an international yacht marina.
One of the most often heard complaints from poor locals is that the government is too obsessed with high-end development aimed mainly at the rich and visiting tourists. Certainly, Governor Wickramaratne has a grand vision for the region including a yacht marina, scores of international hotels European-style housing estates and an international sports complex.
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: One of the major attractions will be the cricket museum.
Developing the coast for big business means keeping the fishermen away, and also getting rid of the small-scale businesses that villagers have rebuilt since the tsunami.
At Unawatuna beach just outside of Galle, the tsunami wiped out what was a thriving tourist trade, but now the foreigners are beginning to trickle back. There's only one problem - these properties built on the beach and the surrounding area are illegal. Since the tsunami, the government has introduced a no-go buffer zone of 100 metres.
REPORTER: Technically most of those buildings there are illegal, aren't they?
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: They're all illegal.
REPORTER: They're all illegal?
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: Except for the hotels that are built up there.
REPORTER: OK, except for the big hotels?
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: Big hotels.
With official permission to rebuild given only to a few big
luxury hotels, small business owners in Unawatuna who ignored the new rules
are getting nervous.
SHIRLY KORALAGE, DIVER (Translation): The police warned us not to build. They warned us because of the buffer zone. They also warned that they would arrest whoever built anything. Yes, arrest. But all that lasted only a few days. Very soon, everyone began to build. And everyone has done so.
Shirly Koralage suffered a double blow in the tsunami, losing both his brother and his father. His father established the dive centre on the beach 16 years ago. Like many other Unawatuna residents, he's rebuilt his business without permission inside the buffer zone. But that's not Shirly's only problem. Unfortunately, his building lies right in front of the main beach access for a proposed 5-star hotel development and it's a project the governor is eager to see built.
REPORTER: Will it ever become a 5-star hotel, do you think?
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: Yeah, it's going to be a 5-star.
REPORTER: It will be.
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: People who are already having hotels in Colombo are building, trying to come in there, because we're going to give them a tax holiday, give them money in advance, a big loan, all of that, so a tax environment for them is created.
But that's cold comfort for Shirly, who seems resigned to the double standards at play between big business and small.
SHIRLY KORALAGE (Translation): If it's a big hotel, it's built on the shore. Only when poor people build is there a problem. They have to get permission from everywhere. When they build a hotel,
they say it's a big hotel and it will bring lots of jobs. But for us small-scale traders it's virtually impossible to get permission to build.
The governor clearly believes that big hotel developments are in the interests of everyone, including the fishermen.
MR. WICKRAMARATNE: Because fishermen also depends on the hotel industry. The hotel buys the fish from them, so, as a result, the industry, the tourist industry, keeps them alive.
On his nightly trips back to shore, Jalat has plenty of time to reflect on the challenges that lie ahead and he's continually worrying about those who depend on him.
JALAT, (Translation): A large number of people depend on our fishing industry. And our children... once we fishermen go to sea, our lives are at risk.
By the time Jalat returns to the harbour at Galle, it's 3:00 in the morning and tonight's catch was good, but the returns are low.
JALAT, (Translation): 89 kilos of fish at 60 per kilo makes about 4,000 or 5,000. So we take home about 200 rupees.
On average fishermen here receive about 70 cents a kilo, but with fuel costs averaging about $30 a trip, as well as maintenance and bank repayments, fishermen like Jalat are lucky to walk away with just a couple of dollars and a few leftover fish. There's no fortune being made here. And although plans for Sri Lanka's post-tsunami tourist paradise seem well advanced, the guardians of Sri Lanka's coastal tradition appear to have been left behind.