By Tom McLaughlin, PT, VeAhavta Volunteer

Having just visited Sri Lanka for the second time to help train health workers in the Mercy Home elder care facility, I was asked by another VeAhavta volunteer and journalist to write down some of my impressions of the resilient character of the Sri Lankan people during the recent escalation of civil war. That collection, partially presented below, became my own personal journal by which I will remember my trip. It contains the thoughts that are not conveyed by my photographs.

In Sri Lanka, everyone hopes for peace. The resiliency of the Grace Care Centre residents and staff, as well as that of their Mercy Home counterparts, seems rooted in the fundamental message of the blues: things are bad, but there is hope that they are going to get better. The sources of this strength are elusive, as there are few heroes and almost no reliable administrative or physical infrastructure to provide a margin of comfort or safety in the north and east of Sri Lanka. In my recent visit, I saw resilience manifest in various ways:

An older teenager, whose brother was soldiering in the recent Muttur conflict, persists in her daily tasks, including diligent studying, while visibly disturbed at times by the lack of information as to her brother's safety. She sequesters herself from the group one evening, but Diane, manager of the Grace Care Centre, demands she participate with her sisters in talent show night. Sometimes one's resiliency is helped along by others.

A busload of Grace Home girls and younger adults embarks on a three-day (seven-hour one-way bus ride) outing to a youth rally in Batticoloa in the sweltering heat. Their hope is to take first place in singing, dance, art, and spoken word recitation. They expect no less. They are decked out to the nines in a mix of traditional saris and wraps, colorful hand-me-downs, and designer-faded jeans with their best travel shoes. Every ounce of energy goes into the whole affair. As the bus departs, you must continue waving enthusiastically until they are absolutely out of sight, and the singing begins. They return home with a major haul of top prizes.

The bus loaded with the same girls departs five days a week for school in disciplined silence. During the trip each way, they will be stopped no less than four times for check point officials to pick through their book packs as rifles dangle at eye level. The girls, armed only with pencils and college-ruled exercise books, bravely wait in silence. What kind of esteem for self, the homeland, and authority does this foster in their minds? Once you have spent time with these kids in their home, you cannot help but cry.

Diane (seasoned resident and capable manager of our compound) and Cheryl (Mercy Home Medical Director and physician extraordinaire) continue the tradition of building good relationships with other local humanitarian aid groups. The escalation of civil war in the north and east of Sri Lanka in the last six months prompts Non-Governmental Organizations (NGO's) like ours to become more acquainted in order to share resources and provide safety for one another. Another elder care facility down the highway sends their nursing aides to attend physical therapy and nursing training sessions at Mercy Home during my two week stay, and one of the training sessions is held at their facility. We drive to a church-run English language school near the harbor to discuss mutual concerns and reaffirm our support for one another. Surplus donated equipment and medical supplies are shared. A German paramedic takes occasional breaks from the endless stream of war casualties and informs us about the severity of the local firefights. Traveling freely about the region, he is an invaluable source of information, and serves as an unofficial but effective coordinator of health services in the Trincomalee District.

One of the older (70's, 80's?) Mercy home residents crouches in the sun at least seven hours daily, pulling out weeds by their deepest roots using a small trowel. She maintains a flat-footed squat posture that few people in the western hemisphere can tolerate for ten seconds. She is a 65 pound human Roto-tiller, mincing at least 25 square yards of earth into a homogeneous sand/dirt composite during my stay there. Her stated purpose (translated by one of the GCC teachers): to personally "make sure Jesus has no thorns under His feet when He returns."

Hiram, one of the co-directors of Mercy Home, institutes a daily duty program for the elderly Mercy Home residents over the last few months. It is an instant hit. The residents find endless purpose in carrying out their landscaping and cleaning duties, and many have to be coerced away from the chores to tend to other basic routines. Arguments, even small fights, break out over which tools belong to whom, and who works hardest. No exercise program designed by the western physical therapist can exceed the benefits of the new work program.

Daisy announces that the fisherman out front have started a morning beach-net haul. I go to take a look, and like a good tourist I jump in to pull a little. A fisherman hands me a rope rig and shows me how to use it as a hip sling to spare my hands and arms. The "fun" is intoxicating, my leg muscles are howling, and I hang in for the whole hour or two. I am careful to avoid delusions that they need my help, and they graciously tolerate my novice pulling technique. It's a fairly good catch according to the boss. For my part, he pays me with the cuttlefish from the catch. I insist that I was just thankful they let me participate and learn, expecting no wage. I am sure the local fishermen each got a few coins or fish for their work. The Grace Care Centre cook serves cuttlefish curry with rice that night to the western visitors.

Attention spans for the last ten minutes of Mercy Home physical therapy training session #4 are hopelessly lost due to a happy disturbance outside. Angela, the other Mercy Home co-director, has returned from maternity leave with her new baby, proud father in tow. Four generations of Sri Lankans are present for the spectacle, competing for a chance to hold the newborn. The smiles and love are overwhelming. The undisputed tacit assumption of everyone at this impromptu event is that love and human life are the most important things. I wonder how this idea has been lost by the leaders of each political camp in this island paradise. In all fairness, I wonder how it has been lost by the leaders of each political camp in my own country. Angela and family consider spending the night in a tiled treatment room at Mercy Home with the escalation of rifle fire in town and bombing in the distance. The irony is mind-numbing.

On our last full day at the compound, someone takes a pot shot at one of the Mercy Home health workers as he rides his motorbike to work. Safe at the compound, he jumps into the day's tasks. On the central coast of California, that would be good for two weeks of paid time off for emotional stress. In Trinco town, if you don't work you and your family don't eat. It's business as usual.

A respected elder resident of Mercy home is taken across the country to the hospital in Colombo, where he spends several days for care of his end-stage heart condition. His status is critical at times, being resuscitated back to life at least once during his stay. Upon discharge with bed rest orders, he boards the night mail train back to Trinco town without escort. The twelve-hour trip would be physically and mentally grueling by anyone's standards, but our intrepid friend admits that he has already lived a hard life. He disembarks, and finds his way back to Mercy Home alone on a day of hartal (curfew imposed by local military and police). Unfazed, he greets his friends and neighbors, and pens a greeting card of thanks to his sponsors in California. Those who have known him a while are not surprised at his resourcefulness and accomplishments of the last 24 hours.

Five days of round-the-clock bombing, shelling, and missile launches three to twenty miles in the distance set the background din for the Uppuveli zone. There is no break in the usual routines at Grace Care Centre and Mercy Home, except for some missed school days. There is a particularly concussive blast in closer range which evokes that "I wonder what's next" feeling among all present, and a young teenager asks me if I am OK with the ruckus. I believe she is half concerned for my comfort, and half embarrassed that her foreign visitor has to endure the unrest. She feels she is an integral part of the current events in her country, even responsible for them as my host. I will soon leave these friends, back to relative comfort and safety. She will remain to be a part of Sri Lanka's destiny. May her dreams of peace be fulfilled soon.

Special thanks to Sport, Spine and Orthopedic Rehabilitation Center in San Luis Obispo, CA, and Sammons Preston Roylan for their kind donations to the work in Sri Lanka.

Tom helping with the net in front of Grace

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