The Third Wave_ A Volunteer Story - Alison Thompson [70]
After crossing many more military checkpoints, we finally arrived in the Ampara district in the late afternoon, just as we had finished listening to Pink Floyd’s entire collection. There weren’t many bicycles and there were noticeably fewer cars; everyone got around on foot. We were eager to find somewhere to stay before dark, so we drove to the beach area, which was the tourist part of town. It was deserted. Many of the hotels were boarded up due to tsunami damage.
We stopped at a small guesthouse that looked functional, and Oscar and Marco walked around to find the owner while I raced over to the beach to play with some stray dogs. To our relief, the place was operational. The owner brought us drinks as we lay in hammocks watching the sun melt into the sea. He led us to tiny rooms that had hole-riddled mosquito nets and dirty sheets covering the beds. In the back, there was a tiny shower where a few drops of cold water leaked out and cockroaches crawled around the walls.
It was tranquil and eerily quiet as we walked along the beachfront looking for signs of life and somewhere to eat. We found only one place open, where a small group of local men were playing cards. We were the only foreigners around. The meal was slow in coming, so I walked over to the beach to look at the boats. While I was there, I befriended a dog who followed me along the shore. He moved closer to me, letting out a peculiar bark I hadn’t heard from a dog before. The strange howling grew louder and the dog moved even closer. I forgot all about my “dog whisperer” gifts and became scared. I screamed out for Oscar and the dog leaped at me, knocking me down. It wasn’t friendly play; this dog wanted to mate with me and had become excited by my touch. He wanted to show me his dominance. He started nipping at my legs, and just then Oscar came to my rescue. He pulled the dog off me and frightened him away. I was thoroughly shaken.
We arrived back at our guesthouse to an urgent text from Major Shanaka, with whom we had just met in Colombo, telling us there was going to be a terrorist attack somewhere in our area tonight. He was very concerned for our safety. He wanted to send the military in to help get us out. We didn’t even consider his offer. If we had learned one thing about this war, it was that the military were the biggest targets of all, and we were safer being away from them. The Tamil Tigers didn’t target foreigners. Major Shanaka then sent a flurry of anxious texts warning us that we should leave the area at once.
We glanced around the hotel and down the coast. There was no one in sight; we were all alone. I wondered if others had known about the attacks as well and had fled to their homes. We debated leaving, but by now it was after 10 p.m. and we knew there could be land mines on the roads, so we decided to remain until first light. We were all too aware that land mines didn’t discriminate between military men and tourists. I felt a rush of excitement as we discussed our plans. I changed into my cargo pants, grabbed a flashlight and emergency gear, and lay down to sleep with one eye open.
At first light, we packed the car and headed an hour north to find the new school. It was a tense ride. Oscar yelled at me for wearing flip-flops rather than hiking boots, wondering how I was going to run away if confronted by danger. He was right, but the nervous way he snapped at me made me cringe. I was over his bossy attitude. Along the drive, we passed through dirty, poverty-stricken towns and spied commandos walking through the jungle checking the trees. It was obvious they weren’t looking for mangoes.
Finally, we made it to the area where they had started building the new school. Oscar held my hand and we took a deep breath, letting out months of struggle and hard work with losing the rights to build the new school at Peraliya. It had been challenging, but our sadness turned to hope as we quickly realized that the new school was meant to be here. We