Up Close and Personal - Camp Trincomalee: Nuzhat Shahzadi

I have been to Trincomalee several times. Never got a chance to know the town, or its people or swim with the turquoise waves . . . because the multi-barrel guns never stopped.

Sri Lankan army and the LTTE constantly battled for the control of Trincomalee district. Trincomaale was strategically crucial to the Sri Lankan forces––they fought to protect their Naval base and the only military supply chain to Jaffna.

When I joined UNICEF-Colombo in December 2005, the decades old civil war was in a sort of lull. Colombo was vibrant. We tried to forget the war though a sense of unease persisted.

Before I bought my car, I used to hop into a TukTuk (three-wheeler) to the shopping centers or pick groceries. I faced a question constantly: “Where are you from? Are you a Sinhalese?” In the office even some internationals thought I was. The nationals said I could pass as an “anglicized version” of a Sinhala woman.

It’s not by accident that I was taken for a Sinhalese. According to legend, prince Vijaya was from Bengal. After he was expelled from home, he came to Sri Lanka with hundreds of followers, defeated the locals and established the first Sinhalese kingdom of Tambapanni (between 543 and 437 B.C.). King Vijaya and his followers were the ancestors of modern day Sinhala population. And I am a Bengalee.

In August 2006, fierce fighting broke out between the Sri Lankan army and the LTTE. The army shot and killed 17 Tamil humanitarian workers (including 1 Muslim), of a French NGO in Muthur. The Sri Lankan monitoring mission confirmed it. The incident was named “the Muthur Massacre.” No one was safe!

The Sampur offensive, close to Muthur was launched at this time. There was high civilian casualty. It also displaced thousands from Muthur creating a humanitarian crisis. I was sent to support the IDP operation of our Trincomalee field office. A group of UNICEF international and national Tamil officers were already there.

It was a daylong road travel from Colombo. I guess we took this long route because of security. We stopped at Hambantota for refueling, lunch and bathroom break.

From Hambantota we had to wear bulletproof vests for the rest of the travel. Our driver usually helped me to put on the 25 KG heavy vest. Even in the air-conditioned car it was uncomfortable. My body was bathed in sweat, and itched.

As we neared Muthur town we heard the sound of multi-barrel guns roaring in the background. From here it was mandatory to wear a helmet even inside the land cruiser. The sun was almost setting as I reached camp-Trincomalee.

We were housed in a local hotel–– 32 humanitarian workers from UN and NGOs. DD, our national child protection officer was my neighbor. The shelling continued through the night. At daybreaks, the army cleared the roads from anti-personnel land mines. We worked long hours at the IDP camps (about 30) in the extreme hot weather. There were unaccompanied minors, children, pregnant women, injured and the sick––burdened by loss and grief. Their sorrow was infectious. In the evening when we returned to the hotel we couldn’t leave that pain behind!

For dinner DD and I regularly ate pasta with tomato sauce and cheese. Chicken and rice were for the carnivores. Shops and markets were closed so the choices were limited. One night the shelling was close, shook the hotel. DD was too scared in her room. To dull the sound of guns, I increased the volume of the TV. It played two channels only––news and documentaries on animals. After my missions to Trincomalee were over, I developed a never-ending love for animal related programs! Old habits . . .

After a month I returned to Colombo. I went back to Trincomalee a few weeks later as the IDP situation worsened.

After my mission ended, on the way back to Colombo we were stopped at an army checkpoint-station. I was carrying the UN pouch. It was exempt from any kind of search. I was also carrying a box (code name: “black-Box”). It contained detailed, sensitive information about child soldiers––recruited by LTTE, some released. Army wasn’t meant to get hold of it. They were suspicious of the UN of aiding the LTTE––we assisted Tamil children irrespective of any politics. Earlier the government authorities in Trincomalee had threatened to arrest us for our work in the camps.

The soldiers roughly body-searched our Tamil driver. They wanted me to get out of our land-cruiser. I didn’t want to be patted by them. UN officials are entitled to certain immunity. I told them I was calling UN security as well as the office of foreign affairs. They should wait. I spoke with confidence that I was far from feeling. Our vehicle was surrounded by a group of armed-soldiers as I was on the (cell) phone. Quite unnerving! I mentioned some of the names I could read displayed on their ID tags . . .

It worked! They mumbled among themselves and told us to go. They didn’t want their names reported to the office of foreign affairs.

We were back on the road to Colombo, safely.