In Sri Lanka, aid workers combat wild rumors and lingering fear

Disaster relief is usually described in terms of cycles or phases of the crisis - first aid, stabilization of refugees, and eventually rebuilding. Yet the severity of the tsunami that claimed nearly 30,000 people here was unexpected, experts say. And as international aid groups discuss the second and third phases, the question of the mentality of victims should not become something abstract, they say.

"I am a professional who thinks about these kinds of disasters night and day," says Daniel Glinz of the International Committee of the Red Cross, who is based in southern Sri Lanka. "Even I've been having trouble figuring out a strategy for this. So I can sympathize with the kind of trauma people here feel. And I think trauma is the right word. People here don't let you see what they are feeling. But it is serious."

Several elements contribute to the picture of a more profound trauma. For one thing, the physical infrastructure in southern Sri Lanka is old, with no recent history of redevelopment. Most of the shops, municipal buildings, and the estimated 70,000 houses that have been destroyed were built slowly over generations. Many people have trouble imagining how it will be rebuilt anytime soon - and how they will return to work.

"We don't have professional carpenters and we don't have good materials easily available," says Douglas Liyanage, who retired two years ago from Sri Lanka's People's Bank. "This is a five-year job at least, and I think that causes great worry among the ordinary people."

"People are only starting now to let themselves think about the future, and they know there is a minimum six to 12 months when they won't have a salary," says Hewawitharana, the harbor master. "No one knows how that will be dealt with yet."

The destruction on Sri Lanka's southeast coast, where the waves hit more directly, is far more extensive. Here, in the southwest, the waves hit the coast line in such a way that rock outcroppings and small peninsulas made all the difference, and on the upper west coast there are tiny pockets of land that are unscathed. Corpses are still being removed from some beaches. Heavy rains are slowing progress everywhere.

With destroyed bridges and damage to the coastal roads that oriented traffic for generations, alleys and side streets flanked with banana trees are suddenly main thoroughfares. People and children stand dumfounded outside as huge convoys of food, military trucks, aid workers, and streams of ordinary people walk past their living rooms. With no immediate prospects, some are going inland hoping to get a jump on new jobs and space for homes before other refugees arrive.

"Some of these people, those with relatives elsewhere, are now leaving for four years," says Mr. Liyanage. "I am feeling our tragedy is something like Hiroshima. But like Hiroshima, maybe we can use it to rebuild everything in a new way, and we can get past our old politics and ethnic troubles. I'm an optimist, as you can see."

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