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| Repairing the Ma-Dal |
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| Suresh |
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| Suresh, me and our dogs |
I started with the wrong question; I think to myself.
Suresh was in my path so suddenly. I had not seen him despite the wide beach, due to the dunes.
The fishing wadiya (collection of temporary fishing huts) I had seen before was usually empty though there were always boats berthed.
This coast is known for its natural environment of the archipelago consisting 14 islands.
Records going far back reveal that the peninsula was associated with maritime trade and smuggling escapades including drugs, goods & human trafficking since ancient times.
This verdant, narrow strip of land is separated from the main island by the Puttalam Lagoon on one side and the Indian Ocean on my side.
The Lagoon is a marine sanctuary with a diversity of habitats ranging from flat coastal plains, saltpans, mangroves, swamps, salt marshes and vast sand dune beaches.
It provides nursing grounds for many species of fish and crustaceans.
The sand is soft under my feet, and the wind is cold; my head is full of smuggling plots, how easy it must be on these empty beaches, lying so close to India.
To my question, Suresh narrows his eyes.
He obviously thinks I am some girlfriend or wife of a smuggler. Perhaps even in some smuggling ring! My mind is on overdrive, and I try my best to explain myself and be rid of any suspicion.
I am not my cool self this once, and it takes time and many answers to put his mind to rest. I put it all down to the abrupt appearance of him and my mind on Johhny Depp casted scenarios.
When I mention my place of stay, he seems to have heard of the young couple, who has made a difference in these parts, bringing in business and seamlessly integrating into the community.
His facial muscles relax.
He shows me tracks on the sand and tells me of nightly STF and Navy patrols on the beach.
I am not supposed to walk this way.
Still there are occasional bombs washing ashore and embedded in the sand - leftovers from the war, and people have been maimed and killed.
This stretch as far as the eye can see, is off limits.
Special permission has to be obtained to fish here.
And then I come prancing along, he admonishes me gravely.
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In this Wadiya, Suresh and a few others are from Kalpitiya – A Muslim and Sinhala mix. The rest are from Batticaloa – Tamil fisherman from the Eastern province of Sri Lanka.
They move to where the fish is and the monsoon is not.
They should be here until April or so.
Then it is time to move again.
Taking on the Mannadiya role, (The man who has a feel for the water, reads the sea and makes the decisions) Suresh seems old enough to hold such responsibility of a fleet. Judging by the Ma-dal (Huge nets) laid out on the sand for repairs, this is a fleet at work. It is that long.
Pre-war, one couldn’t find a Mannadiya less than 50 years old. Such was their experience on the water. But now, times are a changing.
Younger Mannadiyas and smaller boats opt for Disco-dal a frivolous term used with amusement by the older lot, indicating their inexperience at sea.
Did I know, the dolphins, whales and killer whales will be here in a few weeks?
“Yes,the Kite Surf club planting mangroves up north on the peninsular told me”, I inform him.
“Ah, that’s good,” he says of the planting. “It will be good for the land and water, both”
We talk of the massive volumes of muck coming across the ocean. It is a big problem, he complains. Sometimes the nets are full of it and they damage them too.
But unless people change and governments act, nothing much will happen.
He talks of the beach clean ups that happen occasionally, thanks to the surfing community like my place of stay, but who can control the daily tide and people emptying their garbage across the ocean?
We both contemplate this gloomily.
“Day before, they caught Gold being smuggled out, right there.” he points to a place.
“It was in the papers, did you see?”
“No,” I reply, hating to say so and put a damper to this sudden gleeful enthusiasm of his.
“Right there,” he repeats proudly. “Our beach”
“And last week, Tobacco leaves and Turmeric, they caught them bringing it in.”
He is like a parent listing his child’s achievements.
It is quite funny.
I tell him, I was stopped many times one late night, coming back from Karadipuwal.
The whole vehicle was searched.
“Drugs” he declares grandly.
“What about people smuggling?” I revisit the question.
Australia and Italy are famous destinations from this coast.
“Are you mad? Nobody in their right mind wants to go out” he says, then changes his mind.
“But maybe there are people out there who want to come in” he gestures at the ocean.
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