My Story of Peralyia

I visited a place called Peralyia, I had seen some of the devistation previously when I had travelled down to Galle on the train. Its difficult to describe this place and the photos really do not do it justice. So much brickwork and rubble is apparent, a testimony to the force of the Tsunami.......I have spent three days in this place going from temporary house to wooden hut, being invited in to sit and listen to the stories of the Tsunami. At first it sounds unreal, maybe its just a village story, but you soon realise that these poor people have suffered more than we can ever begin to comprehend, it is real and they are still living it today. Every house / hut its the same story. The first wave, the second bigger wave - devistation, destruction & death. Without exception I was shown photo's usually water marked of members of their family who were lost in the Tsunami. Middle aged Men and Women who lost Mothers, Fathers, Brothers and Sisters - but the hardest stories to swallow were always the same. It was when they told you of loosing their children. So matter of fact, no emotion, they told it like a story, somehow detached.Then suddenly they stopped speaking & looked away, a sudden realisation that it wasnt a story, it was real and these children were never coming back..... They would look back at me and I could see this deep sense of loss in their eyes and a pain etched into their faces & despite their occasional smiles I was well aware that these poor people were in a state of trauma. I found it very hard to listen as this black cloud of sadness swept over me, but this was a very tiny price to pay in comparison to what they had to endure for the rest of their lives.