Features

Hobgoblins and Paranormal Encounters in Pohnpei, Micronesia

Published

12 months ago

2024/12/22

by Jayantha Perera

I retired from ADB in April 2011. ADB appointed me as a staff consultant without waiting for the mandatory ‘cooling off’ 12-month period expired. A memo signed by the President, a Vice President, and two Directors Generals of ADB stated why I should be re-recruited immediately. It stated, “Mr. Perera’s experience as a senior and highly respected member of ADB as a safeguard specialist makes him ideal for this position … He is a well-respected ADB staff and was one of ADB’s leading experts in the environment, involuntary resettlement, and indigenous people’s development issues; he was the only international staff member at ADB who had technical knowledge and expertise in all three safeguard areas……..”

One of my major assignments as a consultant was to conduct training in 10 Pacific countries for senior government officials on how to address social and environmental issues to meet ADB’s safeguard policy standards. Fiji, Samoa, Pohnpei, Tonga, Cook Islands and Marshall Islands were among the countries chosen. Each country offered its rich culture, natural beauty, and the opportunity to meet people with vivid personalities and experience paranormal encounters. Pohnpei, an island state in the Pacific, etched a dazzling world I will never forget.

Pohnpei and three island states form the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM) in the western Pacific Ocean. Pohnpei is the largest island in FSM, with a land area of 335 sq. kilometres. The other three states are Yap, Chuuk, and Kosrae. Pohnpei State also owns several small islands in the vast Pacific Ocean.

Pohnpei means ‘stone altar.’ Presumably, it refers to a large stone platform on the island. The island’s population is about 37,000. Its terrain is mountainous and jungle-covered. It is one of the wettest places on Earth, with an annual rainfall exceeding 7,600 mm. A circular, tarred, narrow road connects dispersed towns. Access to the interior, especially to hilly areas, is challenging.

The people are proud of their history and boast about Nan Madol, an ancient city-kingdom. Its civilisation flourished for 700 years, from the 10th century to the 17th century. Its downfall began with the arrival of Spanish sailors in the early 19th century, followed by whalers, traders, missionaries, educators, and colonisers. After the Spaniards, the Germans occupied it. During the Second World War, the Japanese captured it, and the USA took it from the Japanese in the late 1940s.

Locals suffered severely when colonisers plundered their treasures and destroyed cultural artefacts. Spaniards brought cholera and smallpox to Pohnpei, nearly annihilating the local population. The Japanese not only looted local treasures but also enslaved people. During the Second World War, Japanese warlords used local slaves to move heavy cannons to strategic mountaintops. Most of the workers died because of starvation and illnesses.

In 1986, Pohnpei became an independent state within FSM. The five traditional small kingdoms on the island constitute independent Pohnpei, and the Pohnpei State Council represents them. Kolonia is the capital of Pohnpei State, and Palikir is the capital of FSM. The two cities are adjacent to each other. The local kingdoms occasionally clash with the State Council on matters of development. About 10 years ago, for example, the State Council tried establishing a casino complex in the territory of a traditional kingdom. Its king opposed the proposal and took his protest to an international forum for arbitration.

English is the official language, and people consider themselves non-immigrant citizens of the United States. In other words, the USA guarantees they can become US citizens whenever they want. The currency in the country is the US dollar. Postage is paid in US$, and postal stamps are US postal stamps. A taxi charges one dollar to travel within Kolonia.

Fortunately, I got a seat on United Airlines from Honolulu to Kolonia. The Filipino hotel manager told me to wait a few hours before occupying my room. When I asked him why, he said hotel guests who had left in the morning might return if their flight was cancelled. The hotel’s policy is to accommodate such stranded travellers on a priority basis in the rooms they had occupied earlier.

I was tired, hungry, and sleepy. The manager gave me a hot tuna sandwich and coffee at the restaurant. He told me he could give me a room with a door facing the jungle behind the hotel. I feared small insects and reptiles might creep into my room after sunset. The incessant rain added a gloomy atmosphere to my fear. I could hear water gushing down a drain. Rainwater trickled down from the eves of the roof, flooding the narrow corridor in front of the room and making it slippery.

I moved into the room and slept several hours. When I woke up, it was dark and still raining. I did not know how to go to the restaurant. There was no telephone in my room. I was nervous about going to the bathroom. When I opened the tap in the bathroom, it took about five minutes to see clear water. I was reluctant to pull the shower curtain. When I pulled it, a six-legged, black, long, gecko-like creature was in the bathtub. The bathtub was cracked and dirty and covered with dead leaves. The room’s light bulb was weak, and the bathroom was not lit up to see what else was waiting there to meet me. I regretted my decision to occupy an outer room.

The manager came to take me to dinner. He had a strong flashlight and a large umbrella. I asked him about possibly moving to a room inside the hotel. But by then, the hotel was fully occupied. The manager told a Filipina woman to clean my room again and to keep a heater in it. I insisted that the bedsheets and pillows should also be changed. When I returned to my room after supper, it looked neat and smelled good. The gecko-like creatures had disappeared.

I had a free weekend in Pohnpei before leaving for Honolulu. The hotel manager suggested I hire his four-wheel drive Jeep and travel around the island. He charged me $100 for the trip, which included a driver-cum-guide, a lunch box, snacks, and soft drinks. He advised me to carry one-dollar bills with me to pay local taxes. I changed a 50-dollar note for one-dollar and five-dollar bills. The bills were dirty and discoloured; some were as hard as cardboard.

The Jeep was a rickety old van without a spare wheel. It spluttered dark, unburned diesel, and its engine noise was unbearable. Roger, the jeep driver, was a local young man with long hair and a ferocious-looking black beard. He carried a big, heavy knife. The hotel manager handed him food boxes and an umbrella.

I thought Roger might sacrifice me to a native god by cutting my neck at a remote place. I had read on Google about human sacrifices to gods on the island. I wished I had invited another hotel guest to accompany me, but it was too late. Roger promised to show me places that foreign visitors rarely visit. His offer made me more nervous. I told him that I should return to the hotel before 5 p.m.

Roger drove the old Jeep with care. He stopped the Jeep in front of churches to talk to his friends who came for the Sunday mass. Sometimes, he offered them a ride in the Jeep without asking me. At a church, at least 10 people entered the Jeep, and two sat next to me in the front seat, pushing me onto the gear shift. They were fat people dressed in large white shirts and baggy blue jeans. They had unshaven faces and unwashed mouths. They spoke English. They invited me to visit their church and to join them for a communal lunch. I politely declined the offer by saying I was on a tight travel programme and should return to Kolonia early.

Later, I visited a small Christian church. The church had a neat front yard, and a local artist had painted beautiful murals of the genesis and the crucifixion. I could see some well-thumbed prayer books and hymn books on a small table covered with an embroidered white tablecloth. The small board on the table invited donations. One could donate money by dropping dollar bills or cents into a small glass box, which a small padlock secured.

Several people were in the church, wearing their Sunday best. Men wore European clothes, and women wore long white dresses with beautiful shoes. Some of them had heavy makeup. All adult women wore head covers. Many devotees, especially the women, carried rosaries in their hands.

People sat in circles by the road and ate from large metal pots. Roger explained that Christians do not work on Sundays except for attending mid-morning service. They cook on Saturday and partook of it on Sunday after the church service. Pork was the main dish. Raw tuna fish competed with fried pork to be the best food item. Someone told me they had learned how to raise pigs and cook pork dishes from Filipino friends whose ancestors came with the Spaniards as cooks and servants.

Suddenly, Roger drove off the main road, saying he wanted to show me the statue of Henry Nanpie. The figure was about 100 metres from a protestant church and was on an elevated stone dais. I thought it was built of steel with a hollow interior. Henry was in an elite tailcoat with a walking stick in his right hand. Roger told me that Henry had lived in Pohnpei in the late 19th century and early 20th century. He was the son of a local army commander. His mother was an English woman – the daughter of an English beachcomber.

Henry inherited lots of land from his powerful father. Then, he wanted to acquire land from another local kingdom. Henry visited the kingdom’s palace carrying a loaded gun and a bag of goodies. He took the weapon to kill the king and the goodies to bribe palace servants to get their allegiance. When he saw the king in an inner palace chamber, he tried to kill the king. But his gun misfired. Then Henry aimed the weapon at a flowerpot and pulled the trigger. The bullet went through the flowerpot and damaged the wall behind it.

Henry cunningly claimed that he had supernatural powers and could stop a gun from firing a bullet. He explained to the king that before he aimed the weapon at the king, he had “charmed” the gun. Because of the charm, the gun misfired. After removing the charm from the gun, a bullet fired from it smashed the flowerpot. The king was amazed and convinced himself of Henry’s supernatural powers. The king asked him to be the kingdom’s protector offering him a mansion and a vast stretch of land.

Henry opened a large supply shop to supply food, water, oil, and labour to whaling ships in the Pacific. He used his new wealth to add more land to his estate. In Pohnpei, he established protestant groups and spread Western cultural practices and beliefs among the locals through them. Even today, local people consider him a semi-god who brought wealth and salvation to them and connected them with the outside world. Roger sang a folk song about Henry, which depicted Henry as a local god. A copper plaque beside his statue indicates that he still has admirers to spread, invent and reinvent myths about him.

Roger was hurrying me to go to the ruined capital of Nan Madol Kingdom. He told me that the kingdom was on the banks of a large lagoon connected to the eastern shoreline. It was the only ancient city ever built atop a coral reef. In 2016, the UN declared it a World Heritage Site. We drove on a narrow gravel road and parked the Jeep. From there, we walked about two kilometres to Nan Madol. We walked through private lands, and landowners charged a fee for crossing their land. Some landlords collected a dollar or two, but one landlord demanded seven dollars.

We entered a rocky trail from the last property. The land rapidly became marshy, and we walked on an elevated narrow bund. Both sides of the bund were inundated, and walking on it was risky. Henry dexterously cut down weeds and plants that obstructed the path. He wanted me to follow him closely but did not say why. The thought that he might sacrifice me to a local god began looming in my mind. I did not look around as I wanted to keep my eyes on him and the bund. He walked fast, brandishing his knife as if in a frenzy.

The narrow bund that stretched through a grotesque jungle of mangroves looked never-ending. I thought that spirits were watching and following me. I tried to avoid looking at large trees because I thought they were beckoning me. Some tree trunks, I thought, turned into hobgoblins. I remembered reading how funny elves resort to mischievous acts towards human beings who encroach on their territories.

Suddenly, I felt some invisible force pulling me back. I could not see Roger. I thought that I got lost among the mangroves forever. I saw the shallow water in marshy fields swelling to engulf me. I stopped walking. I thought how silly I was to think about bizarre things. Then Roger returned and asked me whether I had seen anything or anybody. I told him that some trees had tried to talk to me and were making faces at me. He said that many visitors had similar supernatural encounters. Roger explained that Pohnpiens treated the ruins at Nan Madol as sacred. They also knew various spirits haunt the place. The spirits came out at night, but a few hovered around during the daytime to harass visitors. Roger gave me several small, polished stones connected in a string. It reminded me of the rosaries that churchgoers had in their hands. He said that the string would fend off evil spirits. I then remembered my grandmother, who gave me my first rosary when I was seven, advising me to carry it with me to protect myself from evil forces.

We arrived at a stagnant shallow canal from where we could see the temple entrance. To reach the temple, we crossed a shallow canal. There were several decayed logs in the canal, and we had to push them aside to cross it. About 50 metres from the canal were the elegant stone walls three to five metres high. Just under a stone arch was a conduit from a table-flat wall top where, presumably, human sacrifices were conducted. According to Roger, the blood of those victims trickled down from the wall top to the main entrance through the conduit, where priests performed rituals to appease gods. Many city outer walls remain intact, although mangroves have engulfed them.

Local people believe twin brothers, who were sorcerers, built Nan Madol. They came to Pohnpei from another island in a large canoe to build an altar where they could perform ancestor worship. The legend is that the two brothers levitated large stones with the help of a flying dragon and built the entire city in three years. They transported basalt columns from a faraway island. Most of the columns are now under shallow water in the lagoon.

The temple consists of about 90 rectangular islets linked by narrow channels. Each islet had a coral-filled platform. Nan Madol means “within the intervals,” and the “intervals” are the complex canal grid. It is unclear who lived on islets, but locals believe priests who performed rituals at the altar lived in single-house units built on islets.

There were reserved locations among the islets for priests to feed turtle innards to a sacred eel who lived in a deep well. After feeding the eel, priests shared the rest of the turtle as a sacrament. To this day, eels are considered holy and are never killed or eaten.

The main enclosure is a large stone chamber with hundreds of human bones. About 15 years ago, several German archaeologists dusted and rearranged the bones to examine their age. That night, one archaeologist died in his hotel room in Kolonia, and the other fell gravely ill. Roger said his ancestors were unhappy when foreigners excavated and labelled their bones. They, as spirits, protect the monuments and punish anyone who disturbs them.

Roger’s father and two uncles had seen several light beams starting from the temple’s main altar late one night. The light beams travelled across the sea to faraway islands and large stars. When I asked Roger if he would camp at Nan Madol after sunset to watch the light beams, he said he would not risk meeting his ancestors! He advised me not to talk about them as they were holy spirits with enormous powers and could harm us in their domain.

We spent two hours walking around the temple. The shallow sea and the lagoon behind the ruins were very picturesque. We tried to count the heaps of basalt rafts submerged in the lagoon. When we decided to leave Nan Madol, I felt I could not move. I was unsure whether the feeling came from my fear of hobgoblins or the perplexity in my mind. I told Roger to walk with me to the Jeep. He walked ahead of me, occasionally checking whether I was following him. I tried to walk fast without looking at the trees I had seen earlier. I felt a powerful, unseen force pulling me backwards. I imagined a tree with strange roots moving towards me. The gushing winds created a bizarre atmosphere. I felt I had not left the ruins, so I called Roger and asked him to walk with me. We plodded to the Jeep from the ruins. He reassured me that the spirits would not follow us. I was glad to leave Phonpei the following day.

All News Advertisement

Features

Rebuilding Sri Lanka for the long term

Published

2 hours ago

2025/12/16

Sahan Weerasooriya

President Dissanayake chairing a disaster management meeting

The government is rebuilding the cyclone-devastated lives, livelihoods and infrastructure in the country after the immense destruction caused by Cyclone Ditwah. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has been providing exceptional leadership by going into the cyclone affected communities in person, to mingle directly with the people there and to offer encouragement and hope to them. A President who can be in the midst of people when they are suffering and in sorrow is a true leader. In a political culture where leaders have often been distant from the everyday hardships of ordinary people, this visible presence would have a reassuring psychological effect.

The international community appears to be comfortable with the government and has been united in giving it immediate support. Whether it be Indian and US helicopters that provided essential airlift capacity or cargo loads of relief material that have come from numerous countries, or funds raised from the people of tiny Maldives, the support has given Sri Lankans the sense of being a part of the world family. The speed and breadth of this response has contrasted sharply with the isolation Sri Lanka experienced during some of the darker moments of its recent past.

There is no better indicator of the international goodwill to Sri Lanka as in the personal donations for emergency relief that have been made by members of the diplomatic corps in Sri Lanka. Such gestures go beyond formal diplomacy and suggest a degree of personal confidence in the direction in which the country is moving. The office of the UN representative in Sri Lanka has now taken the initiative to launch a campaign for longer term support, signalling that emergency assistance can be a bridge to sustained engagement rather than a one-off intervention.

Balanced Statement

In a world that has turned increasingly to looking after narrow national interests rather than broad common interests, Sri Lanka appears to have found a way to obtain the support of all countries. It has received support from countries that are openly rivals to each other. This rare convergence reflects a perception that Sri Lanka is not seeking to play one power against another, and balancing them, but rather to rebuild itself on the basis of stability, inclusiveness and responsible governance.

An excerpt from an interview that President Dissanayake gave to the US based Newsweek magazine is worth reproducing. In just one paragraph he has summed up Sri Lankan foreign policy that can last the test of time. A question Newsweek put to the president was: “Sri Lanka sits at the crossroads of Chinese built infrastructure, Indian regional influence and US economic leverage. To what extent does Sri Lanka truly retain strategic autonomy, and how do you balance these relationships?”

The president replied: “India is Sri Lanka’s closest neighbour, separated by about 24 km of ocean. We have a civilisational connection with India. There is hardly any aspect of life in Sri Lanka that is not connected to India in some way or another. India has been the first responder whenever Sri Lanka has faced difficulty. India is also our largest trading partner, our largest source of tourism and a significant investor in Sri Lanka. China is also a close and strategic partner. We have a long historic relationship—both at the state level and at a political party level. Our trade, investment and infrastructure partnership is very strong. The United States and Sri Lanka also have deep and multifaceted ties. The US is our largest market. We also have shared democratic values and a commitment to a rules-based order. We don’t look at our relations with these important countries as balancing. Each of our relationships is important to us. We work with everyone, but always with a single purpose – a better world for Sri Lankans, in a better world for all.”

Wider Issues

The President’s articulation of foreign relations, especially the underlying theme of working with everyone for the wellbeing of all, resonates strongly in the context of the present crisis. The willingness of all major partners to assist Sri Lanka simultaneously suggests that goodwill generated through effective disaster response can translate into broader political and diplomatic space. Within the country, the government has been successful in calling for and in obtaining the support of civil society which has an ethos of filling in gaps by seeking the inclusion of marginalised groups and communities who may be left out of the mainstream of development.

Civil society organisations have historically played a crucial role in Sri Lanka during times of crisis, often reaching communities that state institutions struggle to access. Following a meeting with CSOs, at which the president requested their support and assured them of their freedom to choose, the CSOs mobilised in all flood affected parts of the country, many of them as part of a CSO Collective for Emergency Response. An important initiative was to undertake the task of ascertaining the needs of the cyclone affected people. Volunteers from a number of civil society groups fanned out throughout the country to collect the necessary information. This effort helped to ground relief efforts in real needs rather than assumptions, reducing duplication and ensuring that assistance reached those most affected.

The priority that the government is currently having to give to post-cyclone rebuilding must not distract it from giving priority attention to dealing with postwar issues. The government has the ability and value-system to resolve other national problems. Resolving issues of post disaster rebuilding in the aftermath of the cyclone have commonalities in relation to the civil war that ended in 2009. The failure of successive governments to address those issues has prompted the international community to continuously question and find fault with Sri Lanka at the UN. This history has weighed heavily on Sri Lanka’s international standing and has limited its ability to fully leverage external support.

Required Urgency

At a time when the international community is demonstrating enormous goodwill to Sri Lanka, the lessons learnt from their own experiences, and the encouraging support they are giving Sri Lanka at present, can and must be utilised. The government under President Dissanayake has committed to a non-racist Sri Lanka in which all citizens will be treated equally. The experience of other countries, such as the UK, India, Switzerland, Canada and South Africa show that problems between ethnic communities also require inter community power sharing in the form of devolution of power. Countries that have succeeded in reconciling diversity with unity have done so by embedding inclusion into governance structures rather than treating it as a temporary concession.

Sri Lanka’s present moment of international goodwill provides a rare opening to learn from these experiences with the encouragement and support of its partners, including civil society which has shown its readiness to join hands with the government in working for the people’s wellbeing. The unresolved problems of land resettlement, compensation for lost lives and homes, finding the truth about missing persons continue to weigh heavily on the minds and psyche of people in the former war zones of the north and east even as they do so for the more recent victims of the cyclone.

Unresolved grievances do not disappear with time. They resurface periodically, often in moments of political transition or social stress, undermining national cohesion. The government needs to ensure sustainable solutions not only to climate related development, but also to ethnic peace and national reconciliation. The government needs to bring together the urgency of disaster recovery with the long-postponed task of political reform as done in the Indonesian province of Aceh in the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami for which it needs bipartisan political support. Doing so could transform a national tragedy into a turning point for long lasting unity and economic take-off.

by Jehan Perera

Features

A wake-up call for stronger preparedness and coordination

Published

2 hours ago

2025/12/16

Sahan Weerasooriya

Impact of Cyclone Ditwah (Image courtesy PTI)

Lessons from Ditwah:

Fifteen days after Cyclone Ditwah tore through the country, the floodwaters have receded and the immediate shock has given way to reflection. As of December 14, 2025, the bodies recovered from landslides have been laid to rest, survivors, whose homes were wiped out, are sheltered in Suraksha centres, and daily life has begun to inch forward. Roads, nearly 80 percent of them, have been reopened, power and water restored, and communities, through individual resolve and collective effort, have cleared homes and roads, even as heaps of damaged belongings still line the roadsides. Now, as the initial dust settles, the nation stands at a critical moment: beyond recovery, it is time to confront the deeper structural weaknesses laid bare by Ditwah.

Cyclone Ditwah has emerged as a defining test for Sri Lanka, both for the newly elected NPP government, facing its first major natural disaster, and for a nation still recovering from the economic collapse of 2022 and navigating the constraints of an IMF bailout programme. The storm not only challenged the country’s disaster-response machinery but also revealed the resilience of its people, the strengths of its leadership, and the gaps that must be urgently addressed as climate-related catastrophes become increasingly frequent.

Presidential Leadership in Times of National Crisis

From the earliest hours of the cyclone’s impact, President Anura Kumara Dissanayaka took an active and visible role in directing the government machinery. His rapid mobilisation of state institutions, technical agencies, and the Armed Forces helped Sri Lanka confront a multi-layered and complex emergency that spanned damaged roads, disrupted power lines, unsafe water supplies, landslides, and widespread displacement. The administration’s coordination, during these initial hours, set the tone for what became one of the most intensive emergency-response efforts in recent years. Mobilising and coordinating government institutions solely through presidential initiative is not an ideal administrative practice. A resilient state must, instead, ensure that its institutions are structurally prepared to act seamlessly when disaster strikes, closing the systemic gaps exposed by Cyclone Ditwah.

The President’s visits to all affected districts strengthened on-the-ground coordination by bringing together district coordinating committees, public officials, political representatives, and community organisations to align relief and reconstruction with local realities, while also helping to identify bottlenecks and clarify institutional responsibilities. However, these same district-level meetings exposed serious shortcomings in disaster governance: weak inter-agency communication, unclear response mandates, gaps in early-warning systems, and uneven political leadership at the local level. In several instances, critical information failed to reach the right actors in time, and some elected representatives were slow to engage, prompting the President to direct provincial governors to personally assess landslide-prone areas—underscoring the urgent need for a more robust, integrated disaster-management framework and stronger local political participation during crises.

Cyclone Ditwah serves as a powerful reminder that Sri Lanka must prepare better, long before the next storm arrives. Effective disaster response depends not only on the commitment of the central government and security forces but also on pre-trained communities and seamless cooperation between agencies at every administrative tier. This article seeks to contribute to a constructive national conversation on the lessons learned from Cyclone Ditwah. The intention is not to assign blame but to highlight the insights necessary to build a more resilient, better-coordinated system capable of protecting lives and livelihoods in the face of future disasters.

Equally notable was the spontaneous civic mobilisation that unfolded across the country. Communities self-organised to clear debris, distribute food, assist vulnerable families, and provide temporary shelter, demonstrating a deep social solidarity that often surfaces during national crises. In many affected districts, local volunteers were the first to reach remote or isolated areas, complementing government and military operations.

Rethinking Responses to Recurrent Climate Emergencies

Sri Lanka is no stranger to weather-related disasters, and Cyclone Ditwah is neither the first nor the last event the nation will confront. Over the past decade alone, the country has endured floods, landslides, droughts, and cyclones of varying intensity. These recurring emergencies underscore an undeniable truth: climate-related shocks are now a structural part of Sri Lanka’s future, demanding a disaster-management system that is agile, integrated, and continuously updated.

After the devastation of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, Sri Lanka invested significant effort in building its institutional infrastructure for disaster risk reduction. Agencies were established, frameworks were drafted, and early-warning mechanisms were introduced with the hope of preventing a repeat of such a tragedy. Yet the experience of Cyclone Ditwah has revealed that many of these institutions have become moribund—functioning in isolation, following outdated protocols, and lacking the coordination needed for an effective national response. While the systems technically exist, they are not fully aligned with the mission they were created to serve. Too many agencies operate within narrowly defined mandates and fail to communicate or integrate their work with related entities. This siloed approach weakens the overall national response and limits the ability of institutions to mobilise collectively when disaster strikes.

Once again Ditwah highlighted the need for reliable early-warning system that requires constant technological upgrading. A robust interface between technology and institutional networks is essential. Advanced and accessible communication technologies—early-warning systems, mobile alerts, satellite data, and community-level dissemination platforms— should play a crucial role in transforming timely information into effective action. Timely alerts, data-sharing mechanisms, communication networks, and community-level outreach must keep pace with global standards and evolving climatic threats. The gaps observed during Cyclone Ditwah indicate that Sri Lanka’s early warning systems need stronger digital infrastructure, better interoperability, and clearer channels for dissemination to all communities, especially those in vulnerable zones. Disaster risk management cannot rely solely on community participation.

Building a Disaster Management Architecture

Sri Lanka gained independence in 1948 in the aftermath of the devastating island-wide floods in 1947. Since then, the country has repeatedly faced severe natural disasters—particularly windstorms and floods—in 1957, 1964, 1969, 1976, 1986, and 1989. Yet, despite this long and painful history, no single, dedicated institutional mechanism existed, within the state, to manage disaster-related activities, until the mid-1990s. Responsibility for disaster response remained fragmented across multiple agencies, largely operating under the broad and limited mandate of social services.

A decisive institutional shift began in 1994 with the establishment of the National Disaster Management Centre (NDMC) by President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga, under the Ministry of Social Welfare. The NDMC was tasked with coordinating disaster preparedness, mitigation, emergency response, recovery, and long-term rehabilitation and development. It also initiated the development of a comprehensive legal and policy framework for disaster management. By 2000, the NDMC had completed draft versions of the Disaster Management Bill and the National Disaster Management Plan. However, these initiatives stalled and were never formally adopted following the change of government in 2001.

The catastrophic human, economic, and social consequences of the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami starkly exposed the limitations of this incomplete framework and underscored the urgent need for a systematic and comprehensive approach to disaster management. In response, disaster preparedness was elevated to a national priority, and on 10 February, 2005, a bipartisan Parliamentary Select Committee was appointed. Its mandate was to examine gaps in preparedness revealed by the Tsunami of 26 December, 2004, assess the absence of effective early-warning mechanisms, and recommend measures to strengthen institutional readiness and reduce the impact of future natural disasters.

The Parliamentary Select Committee met 28 times and produced a wide-ranging report within a short span, marking a decisive policy moment in Sri Lanka’s approach to disaster management. Its findings laid bare deep structural weaknesses in hazard mapping and risk assessment, preparedness, early-warning systems, mitigation, emergency response, and public awareness. Acting on these recommendations, Parliament enacted the Sri Lanka Disaster Management Act, No. 13 of 2005—finally providing a legal foundation for coordinated disaster governance.

The Disaster Management Act of 2005 brought forward significant changes in the institutional framework for disaster management. It created the National Council for Disaster Management (NCDM), a high-level political body, chaired by the President, with the Prime Minister as Vice Chair, and established the Disaster Management Centre (DMC) as the country’s lead implementing agency. The DMC was mandated to coordinate disaster risk reduction at national and sub-national levels, supported by Disaster Management Committees at district and divisional levels. A dedicated Cabinet Ministry of Disaster Management and Human Rights followed in 2006, later streamlined as the Ministry of Disaster Management in 2010. On paper, this architecture promised coherence, authority, and reach.

Parallel to the setting up of new institutional framework for disaster management, the process of disaster management policy planning and policy formulation has taken a new turn. ‘The Disaster Management Policy of 2010’, prepared by DMC, in 2010, was adopted as the main policy line for disaster management. Furthermore, DMC developed ‘The National Disaster Management Plan of 2013-2017’(NDMP) in 2014 as the overall guiding document covering intended activities of the major phases–mitigation, preparedness, emergency operations and post disaster activities, such as relief, recovery and reconstruction. Training, public awareness and education are also covered in the above phases. It envisaged a multi-sector approach in which involvement of NGOs and CBOs are expected to translate policies into tangible action. Further, in 2014, NCDM approved the Sri Lanka Comprehensive Disaster Management Programme (SLCDMP) for 2014-2018 to reduce disaster and climate risks by minimising impacts on people, properties, and the economy. SLCDMP also presented a comprehensive roadmap to improve capacity of local level operators by institutionalising local level support in its planning. It was prepared by the National Disaster Management Coordinating Committee (NDMCC), a multi-stakeholder national platform, established in November 2007 who also plays a key role in implementing disaster risk reduction strategies in the country. This is a clear manifestation of confusion and duplication of disaster management work.

Technological and informational capacities improved with the establishment of a Disaster Information System in 2008, supported by UNDP, and the gradual rollout of nationwide early-warning systems. Responsibility for hazard monitoring was formally vested in the Meteorological Department and the Geological Survey and Mines Bureau, operating through the Disaster Management Centre’s Emergency Operations Centre. While these developments marked genuine progress, their effectiveness has remained uneven in practice. International partners, such as UNDP, have produced extensive analyses and recommendations, but ultimate responsibility of implementation rests with domestic institutions. The core problem lies not in the absence of information, but in weak implementation, limited inter-agency cooperation, and persistent administrative inaction.

Fragmented Institutions and the Cost of Poor Coordination

At the heart of these shortcomings are deeper features of Sri Lanka’s political and administrative culture. Disaster management has frequently been treated as a politically advantageous domain—offering visibility and access to state resources—resulting in its fragmentation across multiple ministries and agencies. This dispersion undermines integrated planning, weakens accountability, and hampers coordination precisely when speed and clarity are most critical. The consequences of inadequate preparedness, poor inter-agency coordination, and inconsistent public messaging have repeatedly emerged during major crises. This was evident in the MV X-Press Pearl disaster in May 2021, where information on hazardous cargo damage was not shared across agencies. Similarly, the lack of inter-agency communication was a prominent issue during Cyclone Ditwah in December 2025.

International partners, such as UNDP and other multi-lateral agencies, have produced extensive analyses and recommendations, but ultimate responsibility of implementation rests with domestic institutions. The core problem lies not in the absence of information and recommendations , but in weak implementation, limited inter-agency cooperation, and persistent administrative inaction.

NGOs: Critical Actors with Structural Limits

Another critical dimension of Sri Lanka’s disaster-management landscape is the prominent role played by non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and, to a lesser extent, private-sector institutions across almost every phase of the disaster-management cycle. Their contribution is especially visible at the community level, where state reach is often limited. It is, however, important to distinguish between spontaneous voluntary community action and the more structured, project-driven modes of operation, typical of NGOs. This distinction does not diminish the importance of NGOs; rather, it helps clarify both their strengths and their limitations within a national disaster-management framework.

NGO engagement is particularly valuable in Community-Based Disaster Risk Management (CBDRM), where sustained local participation is essential. Through CBDRM initiatives, NGOs help Disaster-Risk Communities identify, analyse, and monitor risks, develop locally appropriate mitigation strategies, and strengthen coping capacities. Many international humanitarian organisations coordinate their work through the UN Humanitarian Country Team, while several local initiatives demonstrate the transformative potential of community-centred action. The Community Tsunami Early-Warning Centre (CTEC) in Peraliya, established with the support of two foreign donors and a Sri Lankan medical doctor, is a notable example. Equipped with round-the-clock internet-linked computers receiving real-time alerts from the US Geological Survey, CTEC has built a network of 30 focal points across the Galle District, each comprising 10 village representatives—illustrating how informed communities can play a frontline role in risk mitigation.

The Sarvodaya Community Disaster Risk Management Centre in Moratuwa further underscores the constructive role NGOs can play. Sarvodaya has worked to establish disaster-management committees linked with government district-level officers, strengthening coordination between communities and the state. In partnership with LIRNEasia, it has also developed early-warning systems designed to deliver alerts directly to households. With more than 50,000 community-based organisations, Sri Lanka possesses a potentially powerful grassroots network capable of making a decisive impact on disaster preparedness, response, and recovery. These organisations have been tasked with identifying vulnerable groups within their communities and ensuring their protection during emergencies—a role they performed actively in the aftermath of the 2004 Tsunami.

Yet, despite this potential, Sri Lankan NGOs, as a sector, suffer from persistent structural weaknesses. Many remain heavily dependent on international donor funding and tend to become inactive once external financing diminishes. Over time, this has led to cycles of intense activity during high-profile disasters, followed by organisational stagnation and decline. Unless NGO engagement is better integrated into long-term national planning, supported by stronger domestic institutional linkages and sustainable funding mechanisms, their contribution will remain episodic rather than transformative.

Early Warning Systems: From Forecasting to Community Action

The recent experience of Cyclone Ditwah has once again underscored the critical importance of effective early warning systems in mitigating the impact of natural disasters. Sri Lanka’s vulnerability to such events was starkly evident during the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami. The first tsunami waves hit the eastern coast of Sri Lanka at approximately 6.40 a.m. on 26^th December, about one hour and forty minutes after the earthquake. A secondary wave struck approximately 20 minutes later. The western coastal area was hit by the tsunami waves much later. The tsunami hit the southern coastal city of Hambantota at about 9.10 a.m. and Peraliya on the south-western coast, where the train tragedy took place, at 10.10 a.m., three and a half hours after the first wave, the tsunami hit the eastern coast of Sri Lanka. If an emergency disaster early-warning communication system were in place, at least a part of the human disaster on the Western coast could have been avoided. More than two decades later, Ditwah revealed that preparedness remains inadequate, and simply issuing statements from government agencies is insufficient. Early warnings must be actively communicated to communities, accompanied by clear action plans implemented by relevant authorities, to ensure people are informed, prepared, and able to respond effectively to impending disasters.

A landslide

Cultural and Ethnic Sensitivity in Disaster Response

One of the most important lessons highlighted by Cyclone Ditwah is the critical need for inclusivity and sensitivity in a multi-ethnic, post-conflict society like Sri Lanka. Emerging from the ashes of a devastating ethnic conflict, the country must ensure that national unity and ethnic harmony remain central to every policy and action, especially during crises. Ditwah revealed that some state institutions are not yet fully equipped to operate effectively in a multi-ethnic, multi-linguistic environment. Crucial notices and statements were, at times, released solely in Sinhala, in violation of the language policy enshrined in the Constitution. While practical administrative challenges may exist, it is the responsibility of political leadership to ensure that these requirements are addressed proactively. When vital information fails to reach communities in their own languages during emergencies, those communities would experience alienation and discrimination, with potentially grave consequences. In a multi-ethnic, post-conflict society, sensitivity to ethno-political dynamics is not optional—it is imperative across all phases of disaster management: preparedness, emergency response, and post-disaster recovery.

The real challenge begins now, and Sri Lanka cannot afford complacency. Resettling displaced and vulnerable communities is a formidable task that demands more than community goodwill—government institutions must bear the brunt of these responsibilities. Piles of spoiled food and debris left unattended in cities can quickly create serious public health hazards, underscoring the need for swift and organised action. With the North-Eastern Monsoon approaching, the country must be prepared for any eventuality.

Foreign Humanitarian Assistance and Its Geopolitical Dimensions

Sri Lanka did not stand alone in the wake of Ditwah. The country received substantial international assistance—not only in emergency humanitarian relief, but also in expertise, equipment, and resources for recovery and reconstruction. This support reflects the goodwill Sri Lanka continues to command globally, while also underscoring the need for credible and efficient domestic systems capable of coordinating effectively with foreign partners. At the same time, emergency relief is never geopolitically neutral. Sri Lanka must therefore approach foreign disaster assistance with a clear understanding of its national interests—without retreating into a besieged mentality. Instead, the challenge is to manage geopolitical competition to our advantage through an approach of omni-enmeshment: engaging all major powers simultaneously through dense networks of cooperation, institutions, and partnerships, creating mutual stakes and reducing the likelihood of strategic pressure or conflict.

Rethinking Development Strategies under Climate Stress

Beyond immediate relief, Cyclone Ditwah forces us to rethink the development model we are pursuing. Decades of deforestation and unplanned urban expansion have amplified the country’s vulnerability: between 1990 and 2010, Sri Lanka lost an average of 24,500 hectares of forest per year, totaling nearly 21 percent of its forest cover (Sri Lanka Forest Information and Data, The Rainforest S.). Forests once absorbed and regulated rainwater, but their loss has accelerated floods, triggered landslides, and intensified droughts, while impervious urban surfaces exacerbate flash flooding. The country is now paying the price for these environmental and planning failures, making comprehensive, forward-looking strategies a matter of urgent necessity.

Lessons from Ditwah and the Path Forward

Cyclone Ditwah is more than a weather event—it is a wake-up call that Sri Lanka must strengthen its resilience against future disasters. Fragmented responsibility, weak inter-agency coordination, and inconsistent communication are vulnerabilities that put lives and livelihoods at risk. We are compelled to face the challenges posed by extreme weather events repeatedly in the future. Learning and applying the lessons of Cyclone Ditwah is crucial for political leaders, state institutions, NGOs, and communities alike. Only by building a culture of preparedness, accountability, and coordination can the nation shift crisis response from reactive improvisation to proactive, life-saving action.

Prof. Gamini Kerawella can be accessed through keerawellag@gmail.com

by Prof. Gamini Keerawella

Features

The reality facing Sri Lankans, govt. and Opposition

Published

2 hours ago

2025/12/16

Sahan Weerasooriya

The Malimawa government has been in power only for about one year. So, we cannot say that they are not competent or able to develop the country, or that they are corrupt or less corrupt compared to the Yahapalanaya or the Rajapaksa Regimes whose records within their initial years were “not dissimilar”.

The Yahapalanaya Govt., and the Rajapakasa government in their initial years (and in fact throughout) had to face various natural and other disasters.

In 2005 Rajapaksas were still dealing with the December 2004 Tsunami, and the onslaught of the LTTE, attempted assassinations of Fonseka and Gota, followed by the Mavil Aru sluice gate closure and the launching of the Eelam war IV. Key natural disasters during their period included the following.

2006 Floods: Sri Lanka experienced floods during both the first inter-monsoon season and the second inter-monsoon season.

2008 Floods: More flood events were recorded, particularly in November, affecting thousands of people.

2010 Floods: Heavy monsoon rains in May caused flash floods, high winds, and landslides across 13 districts.

January 2011 Floods: This was a major event where heavy monsoon rains affected an estimated 1.8 million people and destroyed vast amounts of agricultural land, including rice fields. President Rajapaksa could not visit the affected areas due to the severity of the floods.

2012 Drought and Floods: A drought starting in late 2011 and lasting through 2012 dried water reservoirs and safe drinking water availability for around 1.8 million people. This was followed by floods.

2013 and 2014 Landslides and Floods: These years saw more heavy rainfall, floods and landslides killing dozens of people due to early-warning system failures. A major landslide occurred in October 2014 in Meeriyabedda. This was also a period when Ven. Ratana, Dr. Channa Jayasumana and others were becoming very active in undermining the agricultural sector with their hair-brained ideas.

The government established the Disaster Management Act of 2005, No. 13. It helped to better prepare for such events, although implementation faced challenges.

When Yahapanaya came to power, the tropical Storm Roanu brought heavy monsoon rains and caused the worst flooding in Sri Lanka in 25 years. The disasters resulted in over 100 deaths, left many missing, affected nearly half a million people, and damaged over 58,000 houses. The economic damage was substantial, particularly to agriculture and infrastructure. Then the

A second major disaster occurred in May 2017, worsened by the precursor to Cyclone Mora. This disaster affected 15 districts, killed over 200 people, and displaced hundreds of thousands.

Today, the country is in dire straits after the Ditwah cyclone. Curiously enough, the Malimawa faced with Ditwah did not implement the Disaster management mechanism (2005, Act.13) set up in 2005.

Today the Malimawa hands are tied down by the IMF agreements that they have been forced to accept (and here there was no other option as no country came forward to provide an over-arching loan). So, Sri Lanka is like a log caught by the forces of international trade and carried along by the current, with no independent strength of its own (because of JRJ’s open economy which boosted the wealth, but at the same time squashed the rise of local industries).

A significant worry is that the Malimawa government has not launched or even proposed any long-term development projects of any consequence, except for mere cursory statements at the manifesto level. This is the worrying thing that Sri Lankans need to look at.

However, it could be argued that the current government SHOULD be encouraged to stay in power (instead of pulling it down) because elections are very costly, disruptive, and even if a new government comes in, they still have to follow the IMF and World-Bank dictated policies that hit Sri Lanka after the declaration of bankruptcy during Gotabhaya’s time.

It could also be argued that if the Malimaawa continues to govern, then it will mess things up even more. If that be so, it may ensure their doom in the next round of elections.

A new government at any time will take another year or even more to learn the ropes, and one may ask if the country could afford that. Public opinion seems to hold that the old leaders (of the UNP, SLFP, or Pohottuwa) are now like spent tea, rotten, useless, and cannot and should not be brought back, even though the strong corruption charges leveled at them by the Malimawa leaders during the election have not led to court cases. The leaders in waiting, like Sajith or Namal, are not yet seen to be inspiring the public in any significant way.

People who can influence the government should try to help it launch some long-term projects that could fall into place as the IMF-controlled period wanes. This is true, irrespective of which government is in power, given the current circumstances facing Sri Lanka.

That is, there are things that the private sector alone cannot do, that only a government can do.

For instance, (i) Planning to achieve self-sufficiency in energy by developing alternative energies, biofuels etc. (ii) Planning to achieve self-sufficiency in basic food stuffs, establishing an infrastructure for their distribution and sale. (iii) Exploitation of critical minerals available in the country but requiring significant capital investments and overcoming complex environmental issues. (iv) Re-development of infrastructure (power grid, roads, high-speed railways instead of the old snail rails of the British era), taking account of the fact that the country must be ready for future weather disasters of much higher magnitude than Ditwah. This last need is presumably being considered by the government right now, and one may say it will take months to do new land surveys of the damage and create new plans. Finding the money may take longer. However, the plans must come before the funding.

Is the Malimava government capable of rising to the occasion, or has it lost the compass and is drifting in the doldrums, is a question that one cannot easily answer. Unfortunately, the general levels of optimism and enthusiasm of the public towards the government seem to have decreased significantly and the government must wake up to the reality.

By Chandre Dharmawardana
chandre.dharma@yahoo.ca