Bad news can be good news

WHEN we stepped into the car in the Sri Lankan capital of Colombo last Wednesday to undertake the trek to the north, there was a tinge of nostalgia. After all, seven such journeys over two years were undertaken 10 years ago in the name of humanitarian assistance and many more followed in subsequent years.
The first in early 2005 included a 200m trek on foot through no man's land – the area that separated areas controlled by the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Ealam. Carrying a bag pack and several boxes of medical equipment, there were "immigration checks" on both ends.
There was little difference. Both sides had armed soldiers who checked every bag methodically, gave everyone a "once-over" and allowed to pass.
Carrying out our responsibilities in the Tiger-controlled area was relatively easy. They provided everything that was needed – internal transport, comfortable accommodation and an armed guard to boot. Supplies were trickling in after the tsunami and we had no interest in their ideologies and struggles. We were merely there to provide assistance with funds from the people of Malaysia.
We are now returning to see the fruits of our labour and how our contributions had changed their lives. We were hoping to see, among others, people lining at the local hospital to be X-rayed; bubbly children playing in the orphanage and fishermen bringing in their catch.
The checkpoint in Omanthi is still operational and a special pass is required to travel beyond. As you drive past the first kilometre, you have to prepare yourself for the vast changes.
The bumpy gravel roads have been replaced by tar roads with electricity poles inter-spacing the A9 Highway. Scenes of peacocks and herons sharing the rewards from below ground level are common.
As one enters Killinochi town (which was once the administrative capital of the Tigers), the change is glaring. Rows and rows of modern shop houses line the road; judging by the crowd, business is booming; and people are going about ingenuously.
Only four years earlier, all of them had been classified as "displaced persons" and interned in refugee camps. We look for the orphanage that we helped to build. There's no sign of the bright blue building. In its place, is a heap of rubble and what remains of a wall can be visible.
The A9 Restaurant, a favourite haunt of visitors and volunteers at the height of the tsunami is no longer there. In its place is a petrol station.
Across the road, a massive water tank, blasted by the Tigers in the face of the advancing army, lies as a monument.
We look for the barber shop we had a shave every other day followed by shoulder massage. It's gone. The nearby Ganesha Temple which was also a casualty of war is being rebuilt. The small school has made way for five blocks of buildings and children are playing cricket in the manicured pitch in the centre of the field.
No, this is not the Killinochi where we spent several nights during our sojourn to provide assistance. The culture has changed with a "wine shop" providing remedy for thirsty travellers.
We are at Paranthan and turn towards Mullaitivu. Crossing the Vaduvahai Bridge which links to the town and the coast has been rebuilt. Boys are casting their nets for sprats – (a smaller version of ikan bulus).
We are now on the coast. There's no sign of what we had donated – fishing boats and nets. A new hospital has replaced the old. The medical equipment is brand new.
There is nothing to indicate that we had been present and had put in efforts to get the people back on their feet.
All is not lost. We remember the statute of Virgin Mary at a road junction. We managed to get there. Sister Neeta, a Catholic nun was offering her prayers. Photographs were taken. She would have been too young to ask about the contributions from Malaysia.
"So many people and organisations came and went. We can't remember all of them. The Red Cross and the UN people are still here," volunteers an old man.
Looking for any semblance of the contributions made is becoming futile. There's nothing to show because nothing remains.
The war had not only taken its toll on the people but also public property and everything on the peripherals. That's the bad news.
So, what is Lao Tzu's theory of a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step?
Yes, we covered 917km by road and on foot and yet failed to achieve our aims. We were (at that time) not interested in their internal disputes and politics. Nothing has changed. We came to look at how people have rebuilt their lives after 10 years.
Our assistance may have put some of them back on their feet, but 10 years later, they are fending for themselves. They are having a better quality of life. They seem contended. Bad news can sometimes sound like good news.