Gouging relief workers

After I left the hardest-hit areas on the east coast, I decided not to go back to Colombo mostly because of what I would describe as the “tsunami relief tax.” Foreigners are always charged more than locals, which as an American I typically accept as a small gesture toward correcting our nation’s tendency to otherwise grossly distort most other aspects of international commerce in our favor. But some of the gouging of those who have come in response to this disaster goes too far.

Hotel room rates always tend to rise in proportion to the number of relief workers in the area, and “incidentals,” such as telephone use, can end up costing more than the room. To avoid this trend in the capital city, I went an hour north to Negombo – a beach town normally packed with tourists. I got a room in a largely empty hotel at a reasonable rate.

It’s been cloudy and rainy most of the time, but it was still beautiful. There’s no sign that the place was once full of about 3 feet of ocean from the tsunami. I enjoyed a chance to stop moving, talk to the locals and rest. It was promising to see the fishing boats off the shoreline, a sign perhaps that life in Sri Lanka – for some anyway – is returning to its regular rhythms.

On my own, at last

The tsunami researchers I was traveling with have dispersed in all directions and I'm on my own now. As frenzied and nerdy as that bunch was, I'll miss them. It's odd to look around and see mostly military personnel and relief workers (usually in matching outfits advertising their groups) milling around the hotel lobby. It's 10 in the morning. What are they still doing here? Maybe it's a sign that the operation is working and there are fewer people in need of their services. In the meantime, I've recruited a Sri Lankan geologist, Starin Fernando, to head out of Colombo today for a town on the coast called Pottuvil. It was relatively hard hit and wasn't getting aid for a while, I'm told. Fernando wants to take some sediment samples and perhaps get more tsunami run-up measurements. Pottuvil sits in a gap between the study arcs completed by the two American tsunami survey teams so what Starin finds can add to the data. Also, Portland-based Mercy Corps is working there on the relief effort. I hope to be able to check in with them.

Along the course of the trip, I had a six-degrees-of-separation moment. I learned while here in Sri Lanka that the tsunami scientist from the University of Washington, Bretwood "Hig" Higman, is married to the sister of one of my son's friends. We roomed together often (having a similarly relaxed approach to personal hygiene and room organization) so I was pleasantly surprised of our connection. Also, since Hig's wife is a contemporary of my son, it made me realize how old I'm getting.

I'm only now feeling somewhat rested. I don't remember ever being so tired for so long on assignment. I've traveled in Africa, India and Asia –- often under difficult circumstances in remote areas –- but I'd have to say nothing was quite as exhausting as covering this story. The scientists were determined to study as many sites as possible within the week, before the data disappeared and while eyewitness memories were fresh. Every day was a new region, with a 12-hour sprint from site to site, followed by a search for a place to stay the night. I usually wasn't able to start writing until about 8 p.m. and then had to search (frequently unsuccessfully) for a functioning telephone line or, better yet, the rare Internet café in some inland location the next morning. Very frustrating. I'm glad that's over.

A lesson we shouldn't have to teach

While some of the scientists were measuring and digging, I went down the road to visit a refugee camp. I had no translator, but wandered around until I came upon a tent full of children.

It was a makeshift school and my attendance tended to be a distraction for the children. So the teacher asked that I help hand out booklets. I was given a bundle of what I thought were coloring books, but discovered they were pamphlets telling these kids how to avoid landmines and other weapons.

They were healthy, laughing kids, but the situation just about did me in.

Nonstop data collection, iffy infrastructure

From sun-up to past sundown, this team of scientists is out collecting data. We raced to Trincomalee and are now racing to Batticoloa. I have little time to sit and write. And my ability to transmit stories on the go has been seriously hampered by the fact that these damaged areas have little functioning infrastructure.

Our battered hotel in Trincomalee advertised that it had an Internet connection, which was true. It only transmitted sporadically, at a rate of some four kilobytes per second. My satellite phone doesn’t work for some reason. I did eventually find a working Internet café in town and was able to send the story and photos.