After the Tsunami: Reflections From Sri Lanka

Kevin Kostic traveled to Sri Lanka to survey CRS efforts to help the country recover from the December 26 tsunami.

April 18, 2005

When I reflect on it, this trip was not merely a simple delegation visit to see CRS programming in person. This trip — and I think I speak for most of us in the group — was a pilgrimage, a spiritual journey to a holy place. Through the death of thousands, the shores of Sri Lanka have become sacred. The people, the water, the sand, they all speak to something bigger than myself. In a single instance, I could be overwhelmed by the utter fragility of life, and then strengthened by a quiet persistent call to live in hope.

It is time to travel back to the United States, and I don't do so lightly. It hasn't been just another week at the office for me. Both tsunami survivors and CRS staff alike have given greatly of themselves. They have opened their homes, shared their stories, offered us drinks to cool our thirst. How do I repay that type of kindness, especially when it comes in the midst of such despair? I will need to think about that. Good thing I'll have a long plane ride home.

April 17, 2005

In a very familiar Sunday morning family ritual, we hopped in our van and headed to Mass at the local parish, All Saints Church in Borella. The fascinating thing about Mass here is that it's offered in three different languages. There is one in Sinhala (the major language used by over 70 percent of Sri Lankans), one in Tamil (a language spoken most often by Hindus in the northern regions of the country), plus English (a popular dialect for businesses and tourism). It's always energizing for me to experience Mass in a foreign language. Even though I might not understand a single word of it, except maybe an "alleluia" here or there, I'm able to follow right along. It's a beautiful piece of our faith I think.

Like many countries, religious tradition is woven tightly into the culture of Sri Lanka. Religious holidays pepper the calendar each month, and it's difficult to travel a single mile (or I should say kilometer) without passing an impressive Buddhist or Hindu temple, a Muslim mosque or a Christian church. The Catholic Church is a minority. Only about 7 percent of Sri Lankans consider themselves Christian. But the church plays a major role in caring for the poor, and is respected for that. The sad reality is that Sri Lanka still struggles with great poverty and injustice for the poor; it existed well before December 26. I'm proud to be part of an organization that continues to assist the church in Sri Lanka serve those in need, regardless of race, creed or language.

April 16, 2005

This morning our group began the day with a prayer service. These occasions have become important times for us to gather and share the experiences that have profoundly moved us. Fr. Joe Ciampaglio from New Jersey described something he saw two days ago. It's an image that speaks to the Christian nature of suffering, and will stay with me for a great while.

Fr. Joe's group was visiting the town of Galle, one of the hardest hit areas of southern Sri Lanka. There he entered a local Catholic church that was struck by the brutal waves. After taking in some of the initial damage, a fellow priest motioned for him to look at the crucifix that hung on the wall. It was an ornate crucifix, probably centuries old. What was so striking and spiritually jolting about it was that only the two forearms of Jesus remained on the cross. They hung there in silence. It seems that the remaining body had been smashed away by a colliding car during the tsunami. The vehicle was heaved into the church by the sheer force of a wave. For Fr. Joe, the parallel could not be missed. Just as so many people of Sri Lanka held onto trees and buildings for dear life, so also Christ on the cross in the town of Galle suffers with them.

April 15, 2005

It's been another memorable, hot and humid day. One of the primary areas of CRS' work is the construction of temporary homes or shelters. These are simple places in which families can live until permanent shelters can be constructed. The materials used for these temporary shelters can range from plastic tarps, to tin, to clay tiles for roofs, to plywood, to woven palm branches. But the eventual shelter style depends on the expressed desire of the people who will live there. That type of ownership on behalf of the recipients deeply impressed me. It's something that CRS incorporates into programming quite intentionally.

Recipients are able to choose where in the designated area they would like their shelter to be built. They can decide which side of the house they would like their door to be placed. And in many circumstances, that can even be involved in the actual construction of their shelter as well. This gives the added benefit of lowering labor costs for the shelter as well.

These seemingly small gestures are incredibly important. In their own way, they help provide a sense of autonomy to people whose lives have been thrown out of their own control.

April 14, 2005

Today I was given a powerful gift. I had the honor of meeting a young teenage boy named Suresh. Suresh lives in the Dutch Dar area of of eastern Sri Lanka, a small community that lost 130 people to the tsunami. At 14, Suresh has already lived through an unbelievable amout of traumatic experiences. Aside from being an orphan, Suresh has been shot in the leg, a bystander caught in the crossfire of political unrest in the region. He also narrowly survived the tsunami by climbing the roof of his church. He is currently under the care of Fr. Joe Mary, the pastor of St. Ignatius Church in Dutch Dar. Fr. Joe described how Suresh warned him of the tsunami by yelling, "Water, water, water is coming!"

Simply through his survival, Suresh has touched me deeply.

April 13, 2005

We're in Kalmunai, located on the east coast of Sri Lanka. In this small area alone, 11,000 families were affected by the tsunami and 3,000 people died. One of our first stops was to a Hindu neighborhood located along the coast. This is one of many areas where CRS is working to build temporary and permanent shelters for families.

It's amazing how children are the same all over the world. When our group poured out of our van, kids upon kids kept popping up and greeting us with huge smiles. Fr. Paul Esser from Milwaukee was entertaining a small group of them, when the little boy next to him noticed his "One Human Family" wristband. Fr. Paul soon made a new best friend as he gave it to the child. Fortunately I had a full bag of the wristbands with me, and Fr. Paul began passing them out to the eager youth. As he handed them out he would say, "This means, we love you."

The wristbands were created so U.S. Catholics could be in solidarity with those affected by the tsunami. Now the children affected by the tsunami are also in solidarity with us.

April 12, 2005

We arrived today, groggy and travel worn. For a while, I thought flying from Baltimore to San Francisco was a long flight. I can't say I feel that way any more, especially not after spending 17 plus hours on three different airplanes to arrive in tsunami affected Sri Lanka.

With roughly 31,000 fatalities, the island of Sri Lanka was the second hardest hit area by the tsunami December 26. Moments after the tidal waves hit, CRS was hard at work with our partners to assist those touched by this tremendous disaster. Just as swiftly, Catholics across the United States generously reached out to support the work of CRS with donations and prayers.

As part of our efforts to thank the U.S. Catholic community, a small delegation of priests from the United States (some active, some retired) have been invited to witness the CRS tsunami response in person. They will then report back their experience to their communities in the States. I have been given the humbling honor of escorting this group. It's my hope to provide you daily reports from our trip. I want to share with you the stories that most touch me. But now though…I'd better sign off. It's midnight here, I've barely slept, and we have a very early start tomorrow.