The rain pours down through the incomplete roof, drenching the floors of the dilapidated home they live in. Artillery fire echoes nearby – the sound of the war that has returned to haunt their lives – and the walls of the house tremble and crack. A few cardboard boxes hold their meager belongings – tattered clothes, a book or two. Sleepless nights are spent bailing water off the floors. Daylight dawns and there is a new set of problems to be faced. Where is the next meal to come from? Will they eat at all that day?
For Sujeewa Pathmini and her six children ranging in age from 19 to 7, this is the life they have always known. Sujeewa’s husband, a fisherman, survived a gunshot wound in the head in 1985 when he and several others were attacked by LTTE gunmen as they were fishing in their boat. He survived – yet has all but lost his mind. On days when he is coherent, he still goes accompanied by others, on fishing expeditions. Most days are spent mumbling in his house, unaware of the world around him.
With no income of her own, and no training for any sort of proper employment, Sujeewa was faced with the tremendous task of raising four children on her own. Helped by the fishing community in which she lived to get by from day to day, she gave them the only things she really could – self respect, dignity, and a determination to survive.
It is difficult to think of education when you’re battling hunger, don’t have clothes to wear or a safe place to sleep in. Yet Sujeewa made sure that all her children went to school. Two of her sons, Sujith and Ashuntha, were taken into a Children’s Home, where they amazed everyone with their quick learning and exceptional talents. Sujith, who was ten when he arrived at the home, could barely read, yet today at fifteen is at the head of his class and also a school prefect. Twelve year old Ashuntha is especially gifted with his pencil and draws remarkably well.
Apart from a steady education, the Home also helped them in other aspects. Recently Ashuntha was brought to Colombo for surgery in his ear, to rectify a problem that had been there since childhood. This was brought to light only at a Medical Camp that the Home organised for the children.
Despite this Sujeewa must still think of the four children and her husband at home. Her eldest son, at 19, is being trained as a diver, and tries to contribute from his meager earnings. The others are still in school.
For now, she only desperately yearns for a proper roof over their heads and plastered walls that will survive the heavy vibrations of the gunfire around them. There is no furniture in the house – nothing even for a child to place a book on. Once, collecting firewood was an option to earn a living, but today is fraught with danger – a stroll into the forest might bring death.
Sujeewa and her family are only one in many who suffer the same plight. Is it fate that their existence must continue in this manner? Has society condemned these people to such a life? Will not someone hear their silent cries?
