Fishermen families, too, are in need of rescue

Thiruvananthapuram: Less than a fortnight ago 62-year-old Iry Rechans thought that the world had come to an end. Her son Allson had gone to the sea on August 20 but did not return the next day. He was supposed to bring her some provisions, and her medicines. It was not unusual for fishermen to go deeper into the ocean in search of fish. So she waited. Two days passed, and there was still no word of Allson. No one had any idea about the others who had gone with Allson either.

Iry was at a relief camp for fishermen at the Valiyathura UP School. She has been there with her son for the last five years, ever since a massive wave had swept away their thatched hut along the edge of the Valiyathura coast in 2015. Panic set in. Frantic calls were made to local fisheries department officials, and some people at the camp rushed to the nearby Valiyathura church.

On the night of August 22, Allson called. He was in Chengannur, doing rescue work with his mates. “I wanted to shout at him but soon I felt good. I didn't even tell him to take care of himself because I knew people were dying there,” Iry said. Two other youths in the relief camp - Jackson and Jinson - had also taken part in the rescue. “They go fishing and also drive autos for a living. They are now in Kollam, at the house of our relative,” their sister Jasmine said, with evident pride.

A profound irony

The selflessness shown by the three young men at the camp should serve as a rebuke to the callousness of the authorities. These young fishermen have risked their lives without a thought when not a drop of concern had ever come their way. To know how much the state values the lives of fishermen, visit the relief camp where Iry and her son stays.

Nearly 100 families stay dumped in the Valiyathura UP School. Smaller numbers of fishermen families are thrown in three other relief camps nearby, at the Valiyathura Fisheries School, the St Antony's School, and Valiyathura Government LP School.

Animal existence

Three to four families, each having at least four members, are stuffed in one classroom with all the belongings they had salvaged from the wreckage of their wave-battered houses. Over hundred families have just four toilets, and all of them are overflowing with excreta. “Yesterday, some department people came and sprinkled some salt-like dust over the human waste,” said Treesa, a resident. She was referring to some disinfectant the fisheries department officials had applied in the area.

There is no privacy either. Women, like men, take bath in the open, at the taps lined up along the sides of the large school courtyard. “We try to take bath in the dark. Even then it is hard to evade the prying eyes of some men,” said Jasmine. With so many household stuff of so many families packed inside a single room – cupboards, beds, boxes, buckets, chairs, tables, baskets, bags, utensils, television sets, fridges - it looks unbearably stuffy inside. They also cook inside these rooms. Fat dark lethargic flies cover the women, forming strange dark patterns on the towels or shawls they drape over their upper bodies, as they sit gossiping outside the classrooms.

A couple of families that have packed themselves into the stage of the school auditorium are open to the elements. The asbestos roofing of the classrooms are also leaky. The condition is the same at other camps, too.

Stars in the morning sky

Eliyamma, who has a severe back problem, lives alone with three other families in one classroom at the Fisheries School camp. She had lost her house during the tsunami and had since been moving from one relief camp to the other till she settled at the Fisheries School camp in 2016. Contagious diseases like tuberculosis are quite common. Eliyama's husband had contracted TB and had to be shifted to a relative's house nearby. “The place is dangerous. There are pregnant women and children living in these conditions,” Eliyamma said.

Elsy, who had come to the Fisheries School camp after the Ockhi cyclone took away her house last November, invited us to her place. The place was dark but surprisingly neat, and looked spacious. “My daughter had just given birth, and so to make things easy for her and the child, others removed their things and cleared the place,” Elsy said. The child is now 19 days old. He was in the hands of his great-grandmother (Elsy's mother) who was sitting crosslegged on the concrete floor and trying to turn the child's attention to the perforated asbestos roof.

“In the mornings, when it is all dark inside the room, you can see stars on the roof,” Elsy said.