Tsunami Diary: I can't get over how quickly the time is flying over here. While a group of us sit on the roof top of the Lady Hill restaurant in Galle this evening, we conclude that Sri Lanka is timeless.
Miles and miles of palm trees cover the surrounding landscape. The echoes of Buddhist prayers from the temples below float up to the roof top and the atmosphere is surreal as the sun disappears behind the Indian Ocean. I sit back and wonder . . . how did I arrive at this wonderful paradise?
While visiting the various relief camps, orphanages and schools I have heard some of the most heartbreaking stories.
I spoke yesterday to Rani Lyanage who has been coming to our hotel in the mornings as a cleaner. Rani has been a widow for the past nine years and has raised her daughter Zarah, who is now 10, by herself. Being a lone parent, Rani was struggling even before the tsunamis hit. She had a lovely little beach house about 50 metres from the sea. I stood in what used to be her kitchen while she told me her story.
On the morning of December 26th, Rani sent Zarah off in a tuk- tuk to visit relatives. She considered having a bath but decided against it, for no reason in particular, and headed off up the street to get some rice and vegetables for dinner that evening. Ten minutes later the first wave hit the shores of Galle.
Rani's house was almost completely destroyed. Just two walls of her beautifully tiled kitchen are held up by two beams of rotting wood at 450 angles.
Rani now lives in one of the relief camps across the road from her old home. Each morning she drops Zarah to school and makes her way to Hotel Tiny House to work. At lunchtime she takes some food to her daughter and then rushes back to the relief camp to ensure that she gets her provisions. Anyone who is not in the camp when the provisions are distributed must do without.
Despite the statement by the Sri Lankan government that no houses are to be built or rebuilt within 100 metres of the sea, Rani plans to rebuild the other two kitchen walls and turn it into something that resembles a home for herself and her daughter.
Even in her impoverished position, she relates to the timing of events of that morning as a miracle and considers herself extremely lucky.
Our hotel manager, Kingsley, also told me of his experience on December 26th. He owns a small restaurant near the beach and was on his way down there that morning, but could not find his keys. Being a Buddhist, he took this as a sign that something was wrong and lay down on his bed for about 30 minutes.
By the time he started heading towards the seafront, people were running in the opposite direction shouting "Tsunami, tsunami". Superstition maybe, but it definitely saved his life.
Kingsley drove me to his old school, Vidyaloka college, in Galle earlier where I handed over a sports bag full of jerseys along with a rugby ball and shorts. I was the centre of much amusement while the students gathered at doorways in their pristine white uniforms trying to catch a glimpse of the goodies.
I took some fantastic pictures of the rugby team kitted out in the gear, each of them donning a massive grin. The principal, NG Gunapala, stood proudly beside them and thanked me profusely for the donation and told me to pass their appreciation on to the people of Ireland for all our support. So there you go . . . straight from the horse's mouth . . . thank you Ireland!