If you travel south along the coast from Colombo, one of the first things that catches your attention is the impressive reconstruction work which is currently being carried out. Levees are being built in order to substantially reduce the risk of attack from future tidal waves. The tsunamis which hurtled inland just over a year ago killed 30,000 people within 20 minutes, rampaged 70 per cent of the coastline, and caused tremendous damage to the local fishing industry. To symbolize the tremendous outpouring of grief in Sri Lanka, hundreds of white flags lined the roads, along with burning candles along the streets and in the temples.

One year later, on December 26, 2005, I returned to visit this thousand-year-old Buddhist country for my fifth time. Again I noticed the white flags and candles on both sides of streets. The flickering candlelight provoked in me deep emotions which flew upwards, mingling with the smoke in the sky. The tsunami took away so much, but it also brought a blossoming sense of new hope. After nature's ruthless baptism, Sri Lanka is once again rising up to new life, helped on by the kindness given by people all over the world.

December 25, 2005, fell on a Sunday. The hallways of the Colombo Airport in Sri Lanka were plastered with Christmas decorations. In the center of one hallway, a model of reindeer pulling a giant sleigh stood quietly.

The bright, shiny floor and the transparent light bulbs on the brand-new ceiling reflected back on one another. Female staff members, dressed in their stunning red saris, moved gently and swiftly like the elegant ribbons which adorned their shoulders. Their smiles matched their bright, renovated environment.

Compared to the chaos of a year before, when the airport was under serious repair and being used as a base to accommodate relief groups from all over the world, the new Colombo Airport had once again begun its new mission. The sound of the tsunami from the previous year was finally buried within the busy operation of the airport.

Sri Lanka is on the rise again!

The power of faith

We headed southeast from Colombo, following the coastline. We decided to stop and experience some of the holiday ambience at a local countryside church which was adorned with Christmas decorations. Stepping through the main entrance, we saw a rectangular marble platform standing in the courtyard. On it were a number of burning candles. Several families were just arriving. The parents guided their children to light the small candles in their hands, which they then blew out and lit again. They did this three times. After lighting up the candles for the final time, they placed them on the marble platform.

Buddhist temples are a ubiquitous sight, in comparison to the scattering of Christian churches here and there. Seventy percent of Sri Lankans are Buddhists and eight percent are Christians. The practice of Buddhism may have influenced this ceremony, which somehow seemed very Buddhist to me.

Perhaps it was also performed because the following day was the national tsunami memorial day, which meant there was little excitement in the air for Christmas; the church did seem rather solemn and quiet. Many worshippers knelt together on the long pews, touching their foreheads or staring ahead with their fingers crossed. They looked as if they were in a state of deep, concerned contemplation; the expressions on their faces were similar to those of tsunami survivors one year ago.

The deacon of the church told us that after the tsunami around 500 survivors took refuge for a month in the church, which provided them with food and water until they found a place to stay.

This past Christmas there was no evidence of any disaster; instead there was only the serenity of prayer. A church is a place where people's minds can be at peace, so the space was certainly appropriate as a shelter for the traumatized survivors of the tsunami.

Matara is a five-hour drive from Colombo. On our arrival there we met a 19-year-old girl called A.G. Shalika. She was sitting quietly with her friends in a corner. She told us that she had come to pray for her friends who were killed in the tsunami. A year later, she still misses them terribly. She explained the closeness that bonded her to her friends: "We went to the same classes and played together; we also went to the same dance lessons..."

After only one year since their passing, it is of course extremely difficult to erase the horrific memories. Nevertheless, the help which poured into her hometown from people all over the world made Shalika feel relieved. "Although some people still live in tents, we're still very grateful to the people who came and helped us. If they hadn't come, the survivors might still not have a place to live even now."

The power of outside help

The southern cities of Kalutara, Galle, and Hambantota all received heavy damage in the tsunami. A year ago, the roads along the coast were completely ravaged, which made it extremely difficult to carry out rescue work in those areas. Two months later, the roads were still barely passable. Debris hampered rescue workers' movement.

But now all of the former chaos, ruin and dust is nowhere to be seen. Instead, there is the wonderful sight of flourishing green plants lining the coast. Six months after the disaster, the beach was still buried beneath a blanket of torn trees and rocks, and there were still no tourists. Now the waves once again gently caress the clean white sands, the setting sun dyes the sky and horizon a deep red, and groups of people laugh and play on the beach.

Further along the road we saw people building levees. The levees were over a meter (3.3 feet) high and were being constructed in order to prevent tidal waves from once again striking the land. The busy streets in Galle have clearly returned to normal, and it was possible to see tourists enjoying their holidays dressed in T-shirts, shorts and sandals.

We came to Peraliya, 16 kilometers (10 miles) from Galle. The tremendous force of the tsunami had derailed a train there and killed 1,500 people who were on board. The damaged train and rails had once attracted a huge number of visitors, but the train had now been moved elsewhere. Peraliya had 465 families of survivors. Many of the tents provided by foreign donors have been replaced by newly built houses with colorful walls.

We stopped at the tent of V.D.S. Kumari, who was praying for her 14 deceased relatives. She said to us, "It's been a year, but it's still hard for me not to recall the day when they passed away."

Kumari and her surviving family members lived in a tent donated from Austria. Next to the tent was a water tank from Switzerland. She told us in excellent English that in the five months after the tsunami, many foreign groups had brought in clothes and rice. "Some people provided fishing boats and motors; some built very good houses, and some people have moved in." Groups from Australia, Britain and Holland had joined the Indian army in helping to clean up the disaster areas and rebuild the infrastructure so that electricity, water and sewers could be functional once again.

The power of reconstruction

Our destination was Hambantota in southern Sri Lanka.

The bell tower was the town's most famous landmark. Near it was the Sunday Market, where tens of thousands of people died in the tsunami. Now venders had set up simple booths selling vegetables, fish, and other paraphernalia. An old library had been rebuilt as a memorial of the tsunami. In front of the library, a number of fishermen used vehicles to haul home their brand-new fishing boats, which had been donated from Western countries.

In the chaos which followed the tsunami, there was the macabre sight of black crows circling overhead, I noticed that nowadays only a few white pigeons flew over the only supermarket in town. One year ago, on December 26, 2004, the brand-new supermarket had just been formally opened for business; in less than an hour, it was submerged under water. Now a year later it was open again, and its catchwords "On Your Way Home!" shone beneath the sun.

Hambantota is 240 kilometers (149 miles) from Colombo, but the world hasn't forgotten about it and charity organizations are still involved in reconstruction work.

There were "Orange Houses" built with the aid of Dutch engineers and temporary houses funded by the Kuwaiti government and built by the Sri Lankan government. CARE International has been carrying out its "Dry Zone Agriculture Development Project" in Hambantota since 1999. After the disaster, the group built shelters, toilets and wells for tsunami survivors, and along with providing small loans they also built 150 permanent houses in Siribopura, a new housing development several kilometers inland from Hambantota.

World Vision is building 45 apartment-style communities, including playgrounds, in Hambantota. Eight communities were completed by early January 2006.

Master Chandima, the abbot of a local Buddhist temple, in conjunction with Dharma Drum Mountain, a Taiwanese Buddhist organization, has built over 300 houses. All that they are waiting for now is for the government to set up water and electricity connections. Sarvodaya, the largest Buddhist group in Sri Lanka, is also engaged in reconstruction work and caring for traumatized children.

The Tzu Chi Foundation donated water purification pills, canned food, and cooking oil to Sarvodaya. Volunteers arrived in Hambantota just four days after the disaster and provided medical care, relief supplies, tents, and psychological counseling. One year later, our Tzu Chi members are still busy building 647 permanent houses, hoping to establish a community which incorporates schools, a health center, and a meeting hall. Tzu Chi is also partaking in charity work to help individual people and provide medical care.

The power of mutual help

One month after the disaster, Tzu Chi set up two tent areas, one close to a mosque and one near the apron at the local airport, where they helped around 300 families. The Emergency Relief, Rehabilitation and Livelihood Re-establishment Project carried out by Concern Worldwide and the Sewalanka Foundation has replaced the tents with well ventilated wood cabins.

Walking around, we saw a solitary Tzu Chi tent still standing. It bore the number 241. Green pumpkin vines stretched upwards from the left side of the tent to the top. The tent looked even more suited to the countryside than those wood cabins.

W.H.M. Abewansha and his family lived in the tent. Abewansha sold salt for a living, and he was very surprised that the pumpkins had grown so large and beautiful. He refused to turn in his tent for a wood cabin. He said he was grateful to Master Cheng Yen and Tzu Chi volunteers for providing tsunami survivors with rice and tents and even building permanent houses for them, and so he wanted to make his tent the most recognizable landmark in the area.

Aside from the Abewanshas, many other nearby families have replaced their tents with cabins, but they still used the same door numbers as their Tzu Chi tents, and they have placed the same Tzu Chi logo on their wooden doors. They were excitedly waiting for the Great Love Village to be completed so that they could all move in.

The plan is for the city center of Hambantota to be moved to Siribopura, several kilometers inland from Hambantota, where the Tzu Chi Great Love Village is being built. The construction commenced in June 2005, and so far over 100 houses have been completed, creating the basic shape for an entirely new city.

To the west of the village lie two acres of land for the villagers to plant tree seedlings from which they can embellish their future homes. There were jackfruit trees, mango trees, papaya trees, Indian lilac, Chinese hibiscus, and golden dewdrop. There were over 30 types of plants and over 200,000 seedlings.

We saw two groups of volunteers streaming with sweat, working under the heat of the midday sun in the nursery garden. Led by M.M. Karunadasa from Tangalle, 15 civil servants were pulling weeds. The sun was baking hot, but they still worked industriously. Tangalle, where Tzu Chi had also helped, was a ninety-minute drive from here. Karunadasa said, "Taiwan's Tzu Chi came from so far away to help us with relief goods and psychological counseling, so we have now come here to help."

Another group was led by W.V. Jayasiri, a music teacher, and J.R. Lasantha, a dance teacher. Their students, aged from 7 to 14, were planting 200 jackfruit seedlings. Lasantha told us that this often provided psychological relief for mentally traumatized students, and that it was good for them to do something for tsunami survivors.

No wonder these children were singing and dancing while planting the seedlings. They smiled innocently.

From the end of 2004 to the beginning of 2005, grief and mourning were made manifest by the white flags which filled the streets of Sri Lanka and the burning candles which shone in the temples to commemorate the deceased.

One year later, on December 26, 2005, I visited Hambantota for the fifth time, and once again I saw the same white flags and burning candles lining the streets at night. The flickering candlelight provoked in me deep emotions which flew upwards, mingling with the smoke in the sky. The tsunami took away so much, but it also brought a blossoming sense of new hope. After nature's ruthless baptism, Sri Lanka is once again rising up to new life, helped on by the kindness given by people all over the world.