I awoke as I always awoke

to the OM MANE PADME HUM

chanted from the temple

Across the road

 

My husband Ranil was at sea

fishing in the family boat

with his uncle and cousin.

It is a small boat

with a hollowed log hull

one rough and unfinished log outrigger

attached by two curved, sturdy branches

bound by strong nylon string

a wood and nylon mesh platform gives storage

for nets and tools, plastic water bottles

and the eagerly awaited evening meal

rice and curry wrapped in a banana leaf

and of course the wooden mast and cloth sail.

Perhaps tonight the sea might bless us!

 

I dressed quickly and as always

offered a few grains of rice at our family shrine

and spent a few precious moments in meditation

 

I let the children sleep

Rasheed aged two (and three quarters),

Deshika aged six and Lucki aged eight

I washed in the basin outside

The electric light illuminating our small garden

I paid my morning visit to the outside toilet

Squashed two cockroaches

Squatted and watched a line of ants

eating the roaches I crunched yesterday

bowels loose I washed – left hand

from the small red plastic jug below the tap

still dark outside

I switched on the dim kitchen light

And lit the charcoal stove

I put on one bowl of water for tea 

sweet and milky just as we like it

while the water boiled I chopped fresh vegetables

and then started cooking the rice and dahl for breakfast

 

By this time the gathering light

Had vanquished all but the brightest stars

So I woke the children, kissed each one

Rubbing sleepy eyes they dressed

Deshika and Lucki in their white school uniforms

Rasheed in yellow shorts and his blue T shirt

We ate breakfast and chatted

The sun rose at 6.30 (as it always did)

And the warm light kissed the two palms

at the bottom of our garden (as it always did )

 

Uncle Assan came at 7.15 in his Blue Tuk Tuk

To take Desika and Lucki to the primary school

At the other end of the village

It is between the beach and the railway line

As always I checked their bags and kissed them goodbye

I miss them but they are always home by 2 o’clock

 

At 7.49 the train passes on its way to Colombo

it toots as it approaches the crossing

it is always packed with early workers

Just before eight o’clock I started the daily chores

They are not really a chore however since

I take a pride in a task well done and

I know that my clean and tidy house is appreciated

 

I put away the sleeping mats

shake and fold the sheets

sweep the sand from the floor that gets into everything

then I wash the breakfast plates and cups

 

and at 8.15 Rasheed and I enjoyed a cool glass of water

Rasheed went into the yard

and swept the fallen coconut leaves into a pile

he brushed the sand from the concrete yard

and he laughed as he played with the dog

Then he chased it out into the lane

where it slept in the warm sun (all day)

 

At 9am Rasheed and I set off from the house

and walked, hand in hand, the short distance to the beach

he laughed as he chased a blue butterfly

Rashid is a happy child, he is a blessing!

The men always returned by about 10am

And we all help to pull the boats up on the sand

 

God willing the catch will be good today

The other wives are gathering to help with the boats

We left the small children with Sunetra as we worked

They sat in the shade of the coconut tree

Altogether there are fifteen of us,

We are lifelong friends.

 

Shortly after we arrived on the beach a mysterious event happened

The sea which normally lapped close to where the boats were left started to, slowly, but inexorably, ebb out

After 15 minutes a great reach of the bay

and the whole of the coral reef was free of water

Fish thrashed for their lives, gulping for air

A propitious event which offered a great feast.

Surely a sign from god!

We picked our way carefully down the sand

across to the sharp coral, smiling and laughing

gathering as we went a multihued ocean harvest

surely God must have some great plan for us!

 

My close friend Anandi suddenly called out

We all looked up where she pointed out to sea

A dark band crossed the horizon where the boats were

We gasped as the boats all bobbed up higher and higher

And then disappeared from view

It looked like nothing to worry about

but an ominous shadow stopped our hearts for a moment

 

In the time taken to exchange a few words

the water by the reef trickled in

to fill the gaps between the coral

When it covered our feet we became alarmed

We started to walk to the shore

but the water rose faster than we could walk

we screamed as the force of the water pushed us from our feet

at that moment the wave, not then higher than a man

but strong and relentless like time

gripped us like a baby holds onto your finger

tore our feet, arms and legs

as it dragged us over the razor sharp coral

suddenly we all knew that there was no escape

we all screamed in anguish

as we remembered in a moment of helpless panic

our babies sheltering under the palm tree

 

but no more than anyone could fly back up

when you slip from the top of a coconut palm

the wave carried us up to the beach

and high over the place where our babies

had been sheltering from the sun

it only took the length of time that it takes to enjoy

a sip from a cup of sweet milky tea.

One by one, in only a few minutes,

all my friends from the beach road 

disappeared from my view into the raging water

and were gone for ever.

 

For some unfathomable reason

That only god can tell, I was spared that day

As I managed to clutch for dear life onto a palm tree

but the water had first teased gently

but then ripped off roughly every stitch of my clothing

after a whole night and day had passed

I saw a man walked below looking for bodies

but I was too ashamed of my nakedness to shout for help

after another day and night the same thing happened again

After three days a lady rescue worker passed,

and found me still clinging for life

in the top branches of a coconut palm.

 

Later I discovered that my husband, along with the other fishermen, survived because their boats rose like floating coconuts over the giant waves.

I am pleased to say that, five years after that day we will never forget, we now have a child of three.

A day never passes that I don’t think about our three children that we lost.

Life must go on.

(Serendib - an ancient name for Sri Lanka)

 

Alan Graham       (based on a true account)