Weary and wary

Tsunami | Sri Lanka's wiped-out fishing villages do a slow business in aid, comfort, and reconstruction | Greg Dabel

GALLE, Sri Lanka — In the bygone fishing village of Hambantota sits a large sturdy statue of Buddha, unfazed in a debris field that extends one-half mile inland. In 39 fishing villages along Sri Lanka's southern and eastern coastline that scene repeats. Entire towns have been swept off the map yet the stone Buddhas remain.

"What kind of god would save himself but not save his people?" asks a woman drawing water from a spigot that protrudes from the ground where her house once stood. She does not expect an answer and soon walks away to join her husband, gazing out to sea where a fleet of fishing boats once lolled.

One month after the deadly tsunami, the seas surrounding Sri Lanka look calm and innocent, while the coastline churns with a torrent of activity. Armies of volunteers and curiosity-seekers—from South Korea, Norway, France, the Czech Republic, and the United States—clear rubble, fix buildings and roads, and comfort survivors. It is a wearying, slow business in the lingering muck and devastation. No one is less wary of the placid sea. Almost five weeks since it took 31,000 lives and displaced 1 million people from this island nation of 19 million, imported workers and displaced residents keep one eye on the ocean as they labor.