Following my visit to the island of Sri Lanka, I’ve had my share of material from readers on the civil war that is gripping the nation. One of the more touching is a heart wrenching first-hand account from a lady who lives in the region of Mutur in the north.

Mutur is predominantly a Muslim area surrounded by Tamil villages. The nearest town is Trincomalee, eight miles off by sea. About fifty thousand people live there, their main occupation being fishing. A hard-working people, over 95 percent of the people there are educated and God-fearing. This was the third time the area came under attack by the Tamil Tigers or LTTE following similar atrocities in 1987 and 1990. This then is her story:

“It was at 11 o’clock on the first of August when the electricity went out. We didn’t take it seriously then, as it had been happening before in Mutur. That night my whole family was intent on fasting and offering prayers for the safety of my 24-year-old son Ramy, who had been kidnapped by the LTTE five days earlier.

A few minutes later, we heard a loud boom, and we all rushed out by the well outside and noticed fire on the sky and the noise. Nobody then realized what was happening. It wasn’t long before we all realized that we were under attack, but by whom? The mortar fire and gunshots continued through the night as we huddled close to each other offering prayers.

As I am the principal of Mutur Muslim Ladies College, after a very sleepless night I was very much worried about the school. But no one ventured outside their home. At eight thirty one of my staff phoned me with the news that the LTTE had surrounded Mutur and captured the police station. By then the news had spread fast and the people huddled under the concrete chimneys in their homes.

The artillery attack continued over Mutur, and we didn’t know what to do. Suddenly the telephone connection went off leaving us powerless to contact family members and friends. We stayed at home for safety. A bomb blast went off in the town hospital roof and it was damaged. Two young boys were killed and several injured by the bomb blast, but the pathetic thing was that nobody could take the injured to the hospital or the nearest town Trincomalee by sea.

We couldn’t travel on the roads because the LTTE had captured the roads into the area, while the army was engaged in heavy fighting with them. Around 2.30 that afternoon with mortar shells raining down, we all ran to the Mutur Muslim Ladies College for added safety. There the people of Akkaraichanai gathered and sat under the down floor. Because that was a three-story building everybody ran toward it for shelter.

No one was thinking about his or her lunch, and we have no facilities to cook. The small children were crying their hearts out. We spent the whole day terrified at that building. When it was time we had nothing to break our fast but water. The ladies sat where they were and performed their prayers. There was no standing room in that crowded building.

The following night we all went sleepless and afraid because there were so many artillery shells falling around us. By the next morning several people seeking shelter were severely injured and some died. They were buried as soon as possible by some of the young men and prayers were then offered. My son Souwy, a student of Al Azhar University was home for the holidays and responded to the crisis.

On Thursday, we took the rice and dhal in the school stores and asked volunteers to cook and distribute food. During that time we tried to contact politicians, religious leaders, anyone for information for help but no help arrived, no food, no medicine, and no sense of security. Friday was a terrible day for us. Early in the morning the LTTE surrounded our refuge. Some time later the army surrounded them and there was heavy firing. Some mortars fell into the camp. With this going on, the Muslims performed their Friday prayers in front of the office building. As soon as the prayer was over, some of the LTTE terrorists jumped into our midst and the army followed.

They both were engaging in combat all around us, causing severe injuries to many of those seeking refuge. I witnessed one lady who lost her leg in a mortar blast. We couldn’t help her much as she needed medical attention, but there was no way of getting it. There was death everywhere we looked.

That same day others from Mutur ran for shelter at the Arabic College. An artillery bomb had fallen onto the roof and ten people died immediately and more than fifty were injured. With this bomb blast, many people moved toward Thoppur, eight miles from Mutur. They left all of their belongings back, and carried their children, parents and the wounded. On the way they recalled how they were stopped by LTTE cadres whose faces were covered and who asked them to take the route through the jungle. “We were held there for some time and the LTTE then picked out the young and able-bodied men and tied them up. They commanded the rest of us to move on. After a while we heard the sounds of gunfire. Those men who minutes earlier were with us died on the spot while we started running for our lives. Those young men who were tied up just couldn’t come away with us.

Now the battle was over but of what use? The children have lost parents; husbands lost their wives, brothers and sisters separated forever. Many children had become orphans, while many wives became widows. So many became homeless.

They shelter in the schools and the streets. They find difficulty to spend their night in safety. They find it difficult to eat or fulfill their call of nature. More than fifty thousand people had suddenly become refugees. These very people had suffered the tsunami some years earlier.

The Arab world should do something for their brothers and sisters in need. So dear brothers pray for us and for peace. At the same time help us to rebuild our society from the ashes of death and destruction.”

— Mrs. Mehroonniza Careem, principal, Mutur Muslim Ladies College, Mutur