In 1989, Mohamed Lateef had just got married and had taken ownership of a rice farm and was looking to settle down to a quiet life of farming and raising his family. That dream quickly shattered in 1990, when Lateef and 70,000 other members from the Muslim community were forcibly evicted from Northern Sri Lanka by the LTTE, only taking with them minimal possessions and limited amounts of cash with everything else being confiscated by the Tamil Tigers.
Without knowing where they were going, these desperate people moved south in whatever mode of transport they could find. Most of them trekked miles and miles, days on end with many perishing on the way. Eventually Lateef and the survivors found themselves in Puttalum, a town with a sizeable Muslim settlement. There they were received by the locals and housed in makeshift refugee camps.
Twenty one years on, and Lateef is still in Puttalum with his family, living in the makeshift refugee camp, in a coconut-leaf hut affording little respite to the elements, relying on daily wage earnings to support his family which has now grown to include 3 children, the oldest being 15, all born in the Saltern Internally Displaced People (IDP) camp in Puttalum.
“I don’t think about the past. It just makes me sick. There is no future for me to think about. I gave up thinking about the future a long time ago. I just think about the present and how I can give my family at least two square meals a day,” he says wearily.
This incident has been largely forgotten in the annals of the Sri Lankan conflict. Successive governments have failed to provide adequate reprieve and support for the displaced who find themselves in a political wilderness without much of a voice despite having representation in the government. Problems with education, proper shelter and sanitation plague the camps and so the displaced people are dependent on menial jobs or handouts from philanthropists or the government and humanitarian organisations. On top of this, it has also become a delicate commercialized, criminalized and corrupt political scene.
“Yes we get support” remarks A.B. Niyas, the camp leader of the Saltern IDP camp, cynically. “Every so often we get the refugee tourists, who come and see us, take photographs, give us some money, promise additional help and disappear.”
Puttalam still houses approximately 100,000 displaced persons across 141 welfare centres, from the five districts of the Northern Province. Over the recent years, Puttalam has also played host to some Tamil and Sinhala IDPs who have been driven away from their homes in Batticaloa and Trincomalee. The town is beginning to buckle under the pressure of hosting a large IDP population.
Recent incidents in the town have exposed these cracks. There is now a new fear that tensions between the area's original Muslim inhabitants, who have grown tired of the newcomers taking their jobs and, increasingly, buying their land, could lead to further crisis.
"We did all we could for them when they first arrived," says Naleer, an amiable businessman and Puttalum Resident. "But they're placing an unbearable strain on resources. They work cheap, so they've taken people's jobs. They take education, healthcare, too. They are supported by the government and INGOs on top of this. We do not get anything from them. The situation has created a lot of hate." Many critics go on to say that the refugees are perpetually in this situation of desperation without doing much to help themselves, since they know that there will always be sympathetic support.
This is a charge that M. Rahman, an activist from a local CBO set up by the displaced people refutes. “We just want to go back home. We don’t want to live anywhere else. We are from Jaffna or Mullaitivu. We lived side by side with our Tamil neighbors without much problem. We want to go back to that”
Until the 1990 incidents, the communities co-existed fairly harmoniously in the north. Eighteen years after the evictions, the displaced Muslims still speak affectionately of their old Tamil neighbours and given the chance would return back to their home towns. 34-year-old Fatima Shafeek, a mother of two, vouches for this. “I was born in Jaffna and that will always be my home. If I am given the chance I will go back“
After the Ceasefire Agreement was signed in February 2002, a number of these displaced families returned to their homes in the North only to find their houses occupied by displaced Tamils, or rebels, or destroyed. Those who stuck it out once again left back to Puttalum when the security deteriorated.
As for Lateef, what does he make of the situation? Well just ask his ten year old son Mujeeb where home is. He will reply that home is the coconut-leaf shanty in a camp in Puttalam.
So as the world celebrates World Refugee Day, 21 years on from when they were first evicted, the flame of hope needs to be reignited for these forgotten IDPs of Puttalum, to one day find resolution to their problems.
Amjad Saleem
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a slightly longer version of this was posted on Groundviews
