The Hindu Business Line : Tsunami brings out their sterner side

TRAVELLING around some of the worst affected tsunami areas in Tamil Nadu - villages in Nagapattinam and Cuddalore districts — and interacting with the survivors from Anadman and Nicobar Islands in the relief camps in Port Blair, one cannot but marvel at how women have yet again proved to be made of sterner stuff than men.

In Port Blair, one heard several stories of how the tribal men in the devastated areas of Car Nicobar and other islands in the southern half of the archipelago have hit the bottle. From Car Nicobar in particular, there are ghastly tales of how the iron trunks and steel almirahs that survived the havoc of the waves were yanked open by survivors who did not flee the region.

"Fishermen and others who live by the sea rarely keep their money or jewellery in banks or bank lockers. So the plunderers got a big booty, and our information is that a lot of that money is being spent on foreign liquor," said a cable operator from Kerala, working in Car Nicobar for 15 years, and now in a relief camp in Port Blair.

Even during normal times alcohol addiction is a malady that has destroyed not only individual homes but also entire colonies in some villages.

It would be no exaggeration to say that in the fishing hamlets of Cuddalore and Nagapattinam, one smelt alcohol on the breath of every third man interviewed. That is why a month-and-a-half after the tsunami destroyed their world, women in the affected villages in Tamil Nadu have been vociferous in telling both the Government officials and NGOs that they do not want any relief or rehabilitation packages in the form of cash.

"Give us constructed houses away from the sea, fishing boats, nets, utensils and other household items, but do not give us cash," is the refrain one heard from the women in village after village.

Also, as groups of fishermen, who have not yet returned to the sea sat near the coast chatting and smoking — the drinking is done clandestinely — the women were busy sending the children to school, getting a meal ready, with a watchful eye on any distribution of relief material by NGOs, which could be garnered.

Self-help groups, which have lost hundreds of members in the tragedy, were also helping the women to negotiate fresh loans from their groups so that income generation can begin all over again.

Jayanthi at a relief camp in Port Blair

At the Nirmala school relief camp in Port Blair, where there are now 900 refugees from the Nicobar and other group of islands - originally there were 19,000 - one finds 34-year-old Jayanthi from Malacca, Car Nicobar. Malacca has been in the news as almost the entire town was swept away in the ocean's fury.

On the day the tsunamis came, Jayanthi, whose house was very close to the sea, was at home with her three children - two boys aged 17 and 15, and daughter aged 13.

"As even the Iyyappan temple on the coast was shaking violently, I took all the children and ran from the house... with the sea water literally chasing us." She estimates that she must have run for a few kilometres before they came to a higher plain and rested.

"We remained there for 2 days, along with other people, without food or water. On December 28, they put my daughter and me on a huge cargo plane and sent us here. I kept pleading with them to send my sons too, but they promised me that my sons would be on the next flight." At around 2 a.m. she reached Port Blair and was given food and water, but "I didn't feel like eating because I knew my two boys wouldn't have eaten."

The whole of next day was a nerve-racking wait for the woman, who was not only waiting for her two sons, but also for some news of her husband Karuppasamy, who worked in a school as a peon, and who was not at home that morning.

After a 24-hour wait, the women who was by now wailing for her two sons, saw some boys from Malacca alighting from the bus which brought them to the refugee camp. "They told me that they have been sent by plane to Chennai; just look at them, how can the Air Force people be so heartless," complains the mother.

Jayanthi was later able to get in touch with her brother who works in Chennai, and who on hearing that some survivors from the Andaman & Nicobar Islands were being brought to Chennai, went to the airport and found his two nephews. They are now with her mother in Virudhunagar in Tamil Nadu.

But the tragedy is that there is no news of her husband, who has been declared `missing' by the A&N administration along with thousands from the region. After eight weeks, she has little hope he has survived, but as his body has not been recovered, "according to the law, we will have to wait for seven years before we can be given the compensation of Rs 1 lakh," says Jayanthi.

She has no idea what the future has in store for her, but is waiting at the relief camp, "even though I'm sick of the potato-mutter curry they serve here everyday... ."

Shabnam comforting Faiza

But Shabnam, another woman from Car Nicobar, also a refugee at this camp, has found a solution to beat the monotony of the food served.

If you spend two minutes at the rear end of the camp where her extended family... her two daughters, husband, parents, four brothers and their families - one of her sisters-in-law delivered a baby in the camp a couple of weeks ago... is staying, you know that she is in total control.

As the family sits in a circle to eat the food served, she brings out at least half a dozen pickle bottles and the fare looks delicious enough to mask any taste. Suddenly, 7-year-old Faiza runs in, sobbing and complaining that a boy called Deepak had once again beaten her. Without losing her cool Shabnam comforts the child: "Don't worry, I'll take care of him; he won't bother you again. Go wash your hands and eat."

The woman, who is passionately fond of ghazals and hailed from a prosperous family... they owned a jeep, an autorickshaw, a couple of two-wheelers, three fridges, three TVS, etc... and had kept Rs 6 lakh in cash in their store and Rs 70,000 at home... has no expectations of any kind from anybody.

"My grandfather had built everything from scratch; we are a large family... Allah saw to it that we did not lose a single life... If we work hard, the past can return. What I don't like is sitting idle here the whole day. I want to get back to our birthplace and move our hands and feet and earn the food Allah gives us... ," she says.

No tears, no bitterness, no complaints. Like thousands of tsunami-affected women whose stories will never be told, Shabnam is clearly cast in the mould of a leader... a human being who is eager to shake off the misfortunes of the past and get along with her life... "

Response may be sent to rasheeda@thehindu.co.in

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