A season of joy tinged with sad memories
Kumudini Hettiarachchi revisits the humble home of Asitha Fernando, whose picture 19 years ago, as a distraught boy, epitomised the tragedy of the December 26, 2004 tsunami that hit Sri Lanka
Joy and sorrow. Christmas and searing memories of the tsunami inextricably linked for numerous Sri Lankans.
Christmas, one of the holiest days for Christians followed by Poya, a day important for Buddhists. It was so in 2004 and it is so this year (2023). Back then soon after the Christmas festivities, huge waves engulfed Sri Lanka’s eastern and southern coasts taking many to a watery grave on December 26.
For a little family in Koralawella, Moratuwa, the joy of Christmas and the sorrow trailing behind the tsunami, 19 years after that catastrophic event, are still a poignant reality. This family, however, has also experienced the sharing and the caring of this season.
We are in the home of Asitha Fernando, the then nine-year-old whose face not only became a symbol of the tragedy of Sri Lanka’s tsunami but also set in motion a tidal wave of empathy, support and generous donations, as soon as the Sunday Times put a name to the face. His mother, Ranjani, died in the tsunami and a year later his father, Ivan, a fisherman, rushing around to find a little money to hold an almsgiving in her memory on her first death anniversary, fell off the train and met with an untimely demise.
Now Asitha is 28 years old and a “very responsible” husband to Shashinika Srimalee and “devoted” Thaththa to 11-year-old Ayesh (fond of mathematics and chess) and five-year-old Venush.
We are greeted like cherished relatives by Asitha’s family and his two sisters, Ashani – who has been the only mother the little boy has known since orphaned within the span of one year – and Bunty (Ruwangika). Though we had given only a day’s intimation of our visit, spicy patties hot off the fire made by Shashinika are served along with cake, marshmallows and steaming cups of milk tea.
While two shrines – with Christ and Buddha – adorn the walls of the sitting room, a crib with Baby Jesus, sparkling fairy lights on the thatched roof, takes pride of place next to an artificial Christmas tree aglow with tinsel. Close to the tree, on a tank with gold fish, is a framed photograph of Asitha’s parents.
The family of four will go to mass at St. Mary’s Church, Katukurunda, to celebrate the birth of Christ tomorrow morning. The next day which is poya, they would walk into the temple. Asitha is a Roman Catholic and Shashinika a Buddhist, like many Sri Lankan families.
Poya too would be the day on which Asitha, Shashinika, Ashani, her husband Tharanga and Bunty, provide a simple meal, sets of clothing, soap etc., to four elderly women and men, in memory of their parents.
Inviting us to join the almsgiving, Asitha laughingly lists what the meal would consist of – what his parents relished: rice,
(boiled jak),
(dhal), (cucumber salad) and, of course, a favourite of the area,
(a spicy pork curry). They would also carry heaped-up plates of food to the priest and sacristan of the church.
Life has changed for Asitha since last we visited them. With the major fuel crisis which gripped Sri Lanka, he has been compelled to give up one of his two jobs, delivering racing
and winnings twice a day on a motorcycle to five places between Moratuwa and Aluthgama.
Now he only does spray-painting of furniture at the nearby and that only on non-rainy days. He is paid Rs. 2,500 per day when he works and the family is finding it difficult to make ends meet. The efforts of Shashinika to for a garment factory and make string hoppers and short-eats for (boutiques) close by have proved futile, as the factory has closed and large-scale suppliers have elbowed her out of the food trade.
They are managing, all of them smile, talking highly of brother and husband. Asitha has been the bulwark for his two sisters when Ashani’s husband was in prison, giving her money daily. Whenever he is not working, Asitha is at home, says Shashinika, unlike many people around them into (drugs).
With pride, she shows off the dining table he has made himself for the family, the desk for Ayesh and also a bed for the elder boy. But sadly, in this tiny home with a small sitting area, one bedroom and miniscule kitchen, the bed has not been fitted. The four sleep on one bed. The roof of their rented home (they pay Rs. 15,000 a month) leaks and its location in a congested under-served area leaves much to be desired. The water and electricity bills are unbearable.
Asitha, ever-grateful to his older sister for looking after him and making him a responsible adult, will not evict her from the house that had been donated to him as a child after the tsunami by a Sunday Times reader. Wise beyond his years, he does not like to get his family to live there too, knowing that community living would trigger friction among the children and even the in-laws.
Even as he longs for a home of his own, the family talks with appreciation of all the Sunday Times readers who have been by their side throughout. From school books to clothes, dry rations to toys and even a bicycle, Asitha recalls.
“The person living in Havelock Town who gave us a small fridge recently has kept in touch with me,” he says, with a broad smile, flicking off the covering on a white car standing in the cramped front-yard.
While Shashinika explains that they had to break the gate with permission from the landlord and assurances that they would fix it later, to park the car there five days before, Asitha adds that it had been the donor’s own car but was not being used by him anymore. “He even pumped petrol worth 5,000 rupees so that I could bring it home.”
The true spirit of Christmas showered on this humble family!