Attack on Galle

On Sunday, I went on the first of my weekend adventures in Sri Lanka, boarding a packed local bus blaring Hindi top 10 hits, for a fast forty minute ride along the coast to the old French fort at Galle. It was a beautiful sunny day. My shoulders are brown from the sun. My friend Adam and I walked along the old ramparts, trying not to disturb the many couples cuddling under umbrellas among the old stones. The water below the old stone walls was clear: beautiful shades of blue and green, sparkling gold reflections, shimmering fish sliding through the cool water. We descended old stone steps down to a tiny strip of sand outside the wall and took off our shoes to wade barefoot there, skipping stones across the water.

This morning I was eating breakfast when the word came. The hotel owner came in shouting something. I heard him say "Galle" many times. At last, he came over to speak to us. "Galle has been attacked," he said, almost breathless.

The news trickled in slowly. I don't have CNN here and I don't trust the information that gets passed around by mouth in these kinds of situations.

Until today, we have been able to say, "the attacks are in the North, but we are in the South. We are safe here." But that is no longer the case.

Word of mouth (and I warn you, it is unreliable) reports that Galle was attacked by a coordinated effort from LTTE boats and guerrillas hiding in the nearby mountains. Smoke bombs were fired into the Naval base at Galle. While I had coffee it was reported that there was at least one death, with fighting ongoing. Sri Lankan men staying at the hotel gathered near the beach wall looking West towards Galle. It is far too far away to see anything. I could have told them that even staring directly at the wreckage, they wouldn't find many answers.

The road from Matara to Colombo passes through Galle, very close to the Naval base. I imagine it's closed today. It sounds rather ridiculous and overdramatic, but my route to the capital is cut off. The Eastern road has been impassable for some time now, the city of Tricomalee is also unsafe and currently closed. But, if all else fails, and it is extremely unlikely that it would come to this, I have, after all, my trusty little moto (which to be entirely honest, isn't really all that trusty,) and maps of the back roads, inland through the mountains to Colombo. I also have a safe house on the hill with good friends I can stay with and a huge library full of good books :)

LTTE attacks and government counter attacks have been intensifying. The newspapers reported that the military mounted an offensive one day. The next, the bombing of several bus loads of civilians by the LTTE made front page. One newspaper reported 95 Sri Lankan soldiers died yesterday in a suicide bombing in the northeast. It's strange to read newspaper reports, dated today, October 18th, reporting in the past tense about something that his happening or only just finished happening. Already some official is being quoted as saying that two navy boats were damaged and three rebel boats blown out of the water.

Whatever is going on in Galle, it doesn't mean anything good. The LTTE has sent a powerful message today: a message that speaks so many words to people all over the world. It tells the government that the LTTE's power is not limited to the North. It tells civilians everywhere that terrorism could strike at any time. It tells potential tourists worldwide, as if they needed another reason, that they should definitely stay away from Sri Lanka. Galle is one of the major tourist areas on the island and I doubt anyone will be flocking there any time soon.

I live in a small town of absolutely no strategic importance. There is absolutely no reason for any violence to take place here. For the most part, I live my life in a small circle between the beach, the Polhena school and the Rohanna school with occasional trips into Matara for the internet and grocery shopping. I am in a safe place, I want you all to know that. I am also being a safe person. I am registering online today with the Australian embassy and I will not hesitate to hop a flight home if things over here get messy.

Drinking the last of my coffee I watch large gray gunboats speed across the horizon far away, moving from the second naval base in Tangalle, west to Galle. I am wondering what I am doing here. It was never me who was interested in war. It was my brother who had all the books on World War Two, who was fascinated by the medals, who collected all the Desert Storm trading cards. Now he is happily married with a dog and a house is Saskatoon and I am out here, still on the edges of shadowy things.