Just as the photographer and I were about to leave for Trincomalee, Nal, our guide, announced a last-minute change to our itinerary.

"There are riots in Trincomalee. It is extremely difficult to get through all the roadblocks and checkpoints to get in and out of there." Nal explained that the Sinhalese population in that town wanted to erect a Buddhist statue at the center of town, causing unrest among the mostly Hindu Tamils. Negotiations had been futile. The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE,) a group declared as renegades by the Sri Lankan government, had announced that they would destroy the statue by force. Nal was totally reluctant to take us to this tense area.

The irony is that the two parties had only recently reached an agreement on how to handle the massive humanitarian aid that was flowing into the country after the tsunami.

The LTTE forces occupied the northern and eastern shores. Some donor organizations wanted to make sure that aid would flow equitably and freely into the country, including those occupied areas. Under the auspices of those donor organizations, the two major ethnic groups negotiated and agreed to the Post-Tsunami Operational Structure.

Just as animosity seemed to start melting under the faint warmth of the agreement, the Buddhist statue issue erupted, dashing any budding hope of peace on this island. The civil war has lasted for too long and people, no matter what their ethnicity, yearn for peace.

The tsunami put Sri Lanka on the map. Before the disaster, most people were not familiar with this beautiful island state because few people dared to visit--an unfortunate but direct result of its own two-decade civil war.

"From 1983 to 2003, we were in this civil war for twenty years," said Jayasinghe, a professor of history at Perabeniya University in the ancient city of Kandy and an expert in recent Sri Lankan history. He observes that the main cause of the civil war can be traced to the historical enmity between the two largest ethnic groups in the country, the Sinhalese and the Tamils. Both groups are of Indian descent, from northern and southern India respectively. However, that is where the similarities end. They have distinctive religious beliefs as well as different spoken and written languages. The ethnic hatred and distrust between the two local groups are deep-rooted. The Portuguese, the Dutch, and the British all took full advantage of this divide-and-conquer strategy when they ruled the colony in succession from 1500 to 1948.

The historical division between the Sinhalese and the Tamils

Sri Lanka gained independence from the British in 1948. The Sinhalese, who account for 74 percent of the population, took over and ruled the country with seemingly no regard for their Tamil brethren, who constitute 18 percent.

The epitome of such disregard was the Sinhala Only Law, which made Sinhala the national language and Buddhism the national religion, among other ethnicity-based stipulations. This apparent Sinhalese-centric rule understandably irritated and frightened the Tamil-speaking, Hindu Tamils.

Against this backdrop, a group of radical Tamils formed the LTTE in 1976. Its mission was to form an independent nation for the Tamils by any means.

"Many tragedies evolved out of those unfair policies," said Jayasinghe. Although he himself is Sinhalese and loathes violence, as a historian he believes that previous Sri Lankan governments were more or less responsible for the rise of the Tamil Tigers and their separatist objectives.

Spilt water can't be gathered up. In 1983, the LTTE killed 30 government soldiers in the northern city of Jaffna, unleashing an unprecedented wave of riots against the Tamils by the Sinhalese.

"I was just walking on the street when a group of rioters saw me," said Naga, a Tamil who retired from a financial institution and is volunteering for a non-government organization (NGO). "They questioned me in Sinhala. When they saw that I couldn't understand them, they began to chase me and club me." Though a Tamil, he had never joined the LTTE. However, his inability to speak Sinhala was reason enough for the rough treatment. Ironically, even some Sinhalese were roughed up by Sinhalese rioters who got carried away by the excessive violence.

"It was a tragedy, and that was only the beginning of it," said Wura, a hotel front desk manager. He was almost killed by his fellow Sinhalese. When the riots broke out more than 20 years ago, he was working at a restaurant. Someone threw a gas bomb into the restaurant. To escape the flames, Wura ran out to the street where waiting rioters pelted him with stones.

Just as Wura said, that was only the beginning of a tragedy. A full-fledged civil war had just erupted, and it would go on for twenty years. The LTTE occupied the eastern and northern shores, where they carried out acts of terrorism such as assassinations and suicide bombings, throwing the entire country into constant horror and total chaos.

The government's forces, meanwhile, fought back to quell the unrest. Scandalous reports of massacres of innocent people abounded. However, those scandals were never investigated because such wrongdoings were generally whitewashed by powerful and influential people in the country. In the end, more than 60,000 people were killed and over 700,000 lost their homes.

"War is the stupidest crime people can commit," lamented Jayasinghe. For Sri Lankans, the fighting factions, whether Sinhalese or Tamils, caused more damage than a tsunami, overwhelming the originally paradisaic country.

A war-ravaged economy

More than human lives were lost to the raging war. The country's economic vitality and prospects were also dissipated.

Before fighting broke out in 1983, Sri Lanka's economic development, according to the World Bank, was better than that of Bangladesh and Pakistan and second in all of south Asia only to that of India.

Bountiful natural resources such as precious gemstones, fish, and forests placed Sri Lanka in a good position to compete with other countries. This was greatly enhanced by the efforts of the British colonial administration to upgrade the road and rail infrastructure. The British also helped develop agricultural know-how to boost the cultivation of crops with high economic values.

Although the British undoubtedly did all this for the colony with ulterior motives, they nonetheless left a legacy of a transportation system capable of reaching and extracting for export many natural resources and valuable crops such as red tea, coconuts, and rubber. This solid infrastructure, if fully utilized, could enable Sri Lanka to a prosperous economic growth.

However, when the civil war broke out, the government was too preoccupied with the war to build the country. Foreign investments dried up and domestic industries dwindled. Many people, regardless of their ethnic background, faced unemployment and poverty.

Anil, a Sinhalese who used to operate a travel agency in Colombo, analyzed the tourist industry as an example to show me the impact of the civil war on Sri Lanka. He explained that most of the beaches in Sri Lanka are excellent venues for aquatic activities. Furthermore, eight sites in Sri Lanka are on the UNESCO World Heritage list. This is a tremendous draw for tourists. "If you have time, you should definitely go to the Cultural Golden Triangle [the cities of Anuradhapura, Polonaruwa, and Sigiriya] in the central part of the country" Anil proudly told us that these historical cities, with artifacts and relics of the Buddha scattered all around, demonstrate the long history of the country and the intertwined relationship between the country and Buddhism. Only minimally developed, Sri Lanka still boasts forests that are home to a vast amount of wildlife such as elephants, peacocks, and crocodiles. The natural habitats and ecosystems could evolve into attractive tourist destinations.

However, the unstable political atmosphere has scared away the tourists, once an important source of foreign exchange for Sri Lanka. With a dwindling clientele for his travel agency, Anil turned to the import and export of textiles.

A useless cease-fire

Norway had earlier successfully mediated cease-fires in civil wars in Guatemala and Colombia. With his country exhausted by the civil war and the economy in the doldrums, President Chandrika Kumaratunga turned to Norway for help in late 1999.

"So what?" Anil snorted, showing his own diminishing hope for a better future in Sri Lanka. The promising cease-fire turned sour when the LTTE unilaterally and abruptly walked out of the negotiations. "Peace to me is like a sweet dream--sweet, but always just a dream," Anil lamented.

His desperation was understandable. Under Norwegian auspices, a series of six formal talks between the Sinhalese government and the LTTE seemed to have brought the two sides closer together. The parties agreed to a permanent cease-fire and the LTTE agreed to a model of autonomy without seeking full independence from Sri Lanka. The government also made concessions and agreed to share powers with the LTTE.

Just as things were beginning to look up, without provocation, the LTTE left the talks, claiming that it had been marginalized. It declared that it would only honor the cease-fire.

"They flip and they flop. Are they serious about peace?" A Sinhalese merchant in Colombo, who wished to remain anonymous, gritted his teeth with disgust as he talked about the LTTE. His sentiments were echoed throughout mainstream Sinhalese society.

Sujeevan, Anil's colleague responsible for business with Taiwan, joined the discussion. "It really puzzles me. What are those people in the LTTE thinking?"

With his Tamil father and Sinhalese mother, Sujeevan is "half mainstream." However his Tamil heritage almost derailed his attempt to marry his wife. His prospective father-in-law almost rejected Sujeevan's proposal to marry his daughter for fear that Sujeevan's Tamil blood might bring danger to their family if ethnic tensions escalated in the future. Looking back, Sujeevan still felt the pain.

"I have only one thought: a robust economy is paramount. Without it, everything else is meaningless for both Sinhalese and Tamils."

The division between the two warring factions might seem only political. However, two decades of ethnic war have penetrated the very fabric of the society. All the Sinhalese that we interviewed claimed that they had good friends who were Tamils, but deep down the subtle dislike of the Sinhalese for the Tamils cannot be denied.

This led me to wonder even more how the Tamils think of the Sinhalese. Though in the minority, the Tamils play a key role in determining the future of the country.

Jaffna

Jaffna, in the north of the island, was the Tamils' earliest base camp. When we revealed our plan to visit that city, most of our Sinhalese friends advised against the trip on the grounds of safety, just like when they objected to our visit to Trincomalee. Only Sujeevan supported it: "If you manage to get there, come back to Colombo and share your adventures with me."

After much effort and with friends at an NGO who helped arrange for the visit, we finally were able to purchase the plane tickets, and we set off with Sujeevan's blessings.

The northernmost city of Sri Lanka, Jaffna is only 30 kilometers from the Indian Peninsula. Legend has it that when the sea level was lower, elephants used to cross the strait on foot. They had neither immigration nor customs to clear. The elephants moved freely.

Such was not the case with our trip, though. We were stopped and checked every few steps of the way at the domestic airport in Colombo. Even our luggage was subjected to detailed scrutiny. It took a long time to get from Colombo to Jaffna.

"What a dump!" we said when we arrived at the Jaffna airport. Ruined buildings and debris lay among tall grass. A shuttle bus took us to the desolate downtown area. Bullet holes were visible on many buildings.

"This is like another world," the photographer and I whispered to each other. There was not a single Sinhalese in sight, and dagobas were replaced by richly decorated, though somewhat dark, Hindu temples. For some reason the people here, though as friendly as the Sinhalese down south, were more reserved and shy.

"Tamils are very cultured," said Rajendram, 60, an engineer at a construction company. We told him how we had hesitated to make this visit. He was not surprised because, while the LTTE had moved its headquarters to Vanni, about 16 kilometers (10 miles) away, Jaffna was the site where the LTTE and the government forces had engaged in fierce fighting.

Perhaps because of this, people here are particularly aware of how damaging and cruel war can be.

Logde's nightmare

Lodge, 51, sighed a lot. "I went to work in Kuwait when the civil war at home broke out in 1983, so I was initially spared," said Lodge of the civil war. After his two-year contract was up, he came home to the thick of the war. His nightmare had started.

With the money that he had made in Kuwait, he bought a car that he rented out to others. The war escalated, bringing gas prices up with it. When it cost an exorbitant 2,000 rupees per liter (US$80 per gallon), far beyond his means, he had to sell the car at a loss. As a matter of fact, Lodge did not seem to be the only one to have lost his car to gas prices. There were hardly any gas-fueled vehicles on the streets of Jaffna.

Then Lodge opened a stationery shop near his home. Unfortunately, soon after opening, it was leveled by a wave of bombings. He was not sure whether it was the LTTE or the government forces that caused the destruction. But did it matter who? His shop was gone all the same.

For the next three years, he and his family lived with his sister in Colombo. There was no actual fighting in the capital city. Nevertheless Colombo, like the rest of the country, was hit by high unemployment. "For three long years, I couldn't find a job. We could only turn to my sister and brother-in-law for support," Lodge said.

Some people in Jaffna with good education and marketable skills could emigrate, via the International Red Cross, as refugees to other countries, especially those in Europe that were sympathetic to the Tamils. "I'm only a lowly laborer, so I can't go anywhere," Lodge sighed. Now I understood why he sighed so much.

While sighing for his misfortune, he treasured the fact that he was still alive. Many of his neighbors, relatives, and friends did not make it this far. They did not even get to sigh.

When our discussions turned to the LTTE, I asked whether he identified with the organization and if he supported Tamil independence from Sri Lanka.

He nodded and then shook his head.

"After all, we are of the same language, race, and religion. Everything they do is for our benefit." I was half surprised by Lodge's thinking, which was totally different from that of the Sinhalese that I had interviewed.

He continued with yet another sigh. "But we have had enough of this endless war. If violence continues, is independence worth the cost?"

A simple answer that came from an ordinary Tamil, one who had suffered from the hardships of the civil war. In contrast, Rajendram was middle class and more insulated from the impact of the war. He did not come right out to support independence except to ask, "What about the government's attitude? If they continue to be unfair to us Tamils, are we supposed to just lie low and obey?"

Rajendram felt that if he left Jaffna, all the rest of Sri Lanka would feel like a huge prison cell. "They won't admit it, but they're always guarding against the Tamils. A Sinhalese with little education can easily get a government job. However, a well-educated Tamil can't land that same job, no matter how long he waits. The Sinhalese are jealous of us Tamils. They're scared that Tamils will be promoted over them."

Rajendram' point might be partially right and partially questionable.

During our stay at Jaffna, I interviewed many Tamils, including many coming back from abroad. From them, I got the unmistakable impression that the Tamils are generally very well educated.

Staying in his hometown of Jaffna, Rajendram is a licensed engineer. Ram emigrated to Norway and teaches physical education in college there. Dr. Homer is a practicing physician in India, and P.J., 25, is already a second-year doctorate student in the department of chemistry at Cambridge University in the United Kingdom.

All these people have one thing in common: they are all Tamils from Jaffna.

Tracing the history of the country, one can see quite readily that there are more than one kind of Tamils in Sri Lanka.

Two branches of Tamils

Like Rajendram, Ram, Homer, P.J., and their ancestors, one group of Tamils has lived on this island for several thousand years.

Another group came to the country at the beginning of the 19th century, when the British ruled this colony. There was a labor shortage in the red tea industry, and the British imported more than a million ethnic Tamil laborers from India to the central highlands of Sri Lanka.

However, to the elite Tamils of Jaffna, those newcomers were nothing more than laborers from the start. The newcomers, in turn, were not so inclined toward independence because the government frequently gave them small political favors.

So when Rajendram, Ram, Homer, and P.J. told me, explicitly or implicitly, that they favored independence, none of them was able to answer another question--what to do with this other group of Tamils.

Most Tamils are Hindus, and traditional Hindu society is based on a rigid caste system. Will the proud, elite Tamils of Jaffna be willing or able to treat the Tamils, the laborers, with fairness and equality, the same fairness and equality that the elite Tamils themselves have long sought from the ruling majority, the Sinhalese?

With the struggle against the Sinhalese on one hand and the lower-class Tamils on the other, the elite Tamils are traveling down a complex road to independence that is apparently scattered with obstacles.

A turning point from the sea?

After repeated cycles of fighting, peace talks, raised hopes, evaporated hopes, more on-again-off-again fighting and talks, the Sri Lankan people were thoroughly disappointed. Just as people were giving up in despair, the great tsunami of 2004 struck the country and brought unprecedented destruction. A silver lining, however, unexpectedly emerged from this gargantuan disaster.

Nearly 70 percent of the 1,760-kilometer coastline was damaged, including Trincomalee in the east, Hambantota, Tangalla, Matara, Galle in the south, and Colombo in the west.

"Twelve of the 14 fishing ports were washed away, and 150,000 fishermen out of a total of 170,000 were victimized. The fishing industry suffered an overall loss of 300,000 tons," explained Naga, a consultant to the Tamil Rehabilitation Organization (TRO), a local NGO.

However, before the losses were quantified and reduced to mere numbers, many touching stories had quickly unfolded throughout the country. A 60-year-old Sinhalese man saved a five-year-old Tamil boy, reported a local paper. I heard that a Norwegian psychiatrist flew to Jaffna from Norway three days after the disaster to console and treat survivors. The TRO focused its aid efforts on the eastern and northern parts of the country, where it was difficult for government soldiers to travel. Even though its name contains the word "Tamil," the TRO has both Tamil and Sinhalese volunteers and beneficiaries. It only asks if there is a need, regardless of color, race, or gender.

The tsunami taught the Tamils and Sinhalese a valuable lesson: living on the same land, they had no choice but to band together in the face of a natural disaster.

International aid flowed in with money and supplies for this devastated country. "Very soon after the tsunami hit, I received AUSCARE kits which contained items for personal hygiene, towels, canned food, and first-aid medicine. They are very practical," Wijedasa told me. His house in the southern town of Kirindagama escaped the tsunami unscathed. However, the entire marketplace where he ran a stall had been washed out to sea. The stall was his only source of livelihood. Facing his three hungry children, Wijedasa, just over 40, felt that he was suffocating--until the NGOs arrived and brought in emergency supplies that carried his family through the chaos immediately after the catastrophe. Aid of various kinds followed and continued to support his family.

Great Love unites NGOs

When he heard about the new business assistance provided by some NGOs, Wijedasa went to apply. He got to set up a stall for selling watermelons. A few months later, to better provide for his family, he also applied to another NGO, Care International, for a loan under its Micro Loan Program.

Wijedasa continued, "Applicants do not need to provide any guarantee. They only need to describe how they are going to do business. The NGO staff writes up the application with a business plan for the applicants. Once the application is approved, you get a booth in the new market and 30 thousand rupees [about US$267] as working capital."

Quick and efficient, Wijedasa sells watermelons at his new stall. Business is good in the hot, humid weather of Sri Lanka. Other applicants of the same period, now also proprietors, sell ice cream, souvenirs, and clothing. With the help of the micro loan and through their own diligence, most participants have been able to improve their lives.

Actually, Care International, AUSCARE, and TRO are not the only NGOs there. Others like Save the Children, World Vision, and International Red Cross have all moved into locations where their respective expertise can offer some help. Also present is the Tzu Chi Foundation, an NGO from Taiwan.

Tzu Chi volunteers arrived in the southern town of Hambantota very soon after the tsunami, initially providing emergency assistance. Now the foundation is building a Tzu Chi Great Love Village to provide permanent housing and related services for 650 displaced families.

"Sri Lanka is a blessed land, otherwise why would so many bodhisattvas come to help?" asked Abudula, a resident of Hambantota. After losing his loved ones to the tsunami, Abudula was overwhelmed by grief. Fortunately, he returned to normal after receiving much love and concern from Tzu Chi volunteers. He then joined Tzu Chi and became the first local volunteer there.

Through arrangements by his business partners in Taiwan, Anil, the proprietor of the textile import and export company, Sujeevan, and Shirosha drove several hours to join Tzu Chi volunteers already working in Hambantota to provide help. "They traveled thousands of miles from Taiwan to help our people. We live in Colombo. How can we not come?" Anil remarked.

Hoping that a dream will come true

The tsunami taught the warring parties a lesson and brought them closer together. It helped them to forget their mutual hatred and bound them together. However, it will take a great deal of wisdom to keep that amicability alive. The parties involved will determine whether it will last.

On the eve of our departure from Sri Lanka, the tension at Trincomalee continued. While the cease-fire is holding and the Post-Tsunami Operational Structure has not unraveled, the government and the LTTE have not agreed to new talks. The world's care and love are flowing in via the NGOs and other organizations. Ordinary people want peace. Politicians pursue their own undoubtedly different and conflicting agendas. It all adds up to a murky picture. Where will Sri Lanka go from here? It is a nation at a crossroads. May wisdom be with them.

Editor's Note: Just as this article was about to go to press, the foreign minister of Sri Lanka was assassinated. The LTTE and the government blame each other. Has the faint hope of peace been dimmed yet another notch?