Features
A woman has to be ‘stronger than a lion’ to cross the sea
Mediterranean Sea – On the open sea, thousands of kilometres from land, on a flimsy blue wooden boat, 21-year-old Linda* from Daraa, Syria, didn’t care if she lived or died.
She and 125 other refugees had left the Libyan coastal city of Sabratha in the dark of night, and her only goal was to get her sick mother to safety – away from the war back home, away from the freezing sea they had been drifting in for nearly two days with no food or water.
Then their boat was intercepted by German search-and-rescue vessel Humanity 1 – and Linda, her mother and the others were saved.
In the first chaotic hours after the rescue, she walked around the open deck, crying. Dressed in a black tracksuit with white stripes, she zigzagged between people queuing for a change of clothing and a long line of frozen survivors waiting to see the ship’s doctor.
Linda travelled with her mother on the open sea, thousands of kilometres from land, before being rescued by the Humanity 1 [Al Jazeera]
Some of them were wrapped in shiny aluminum emergency blankets. When they moved, the sound reminded her of opening candy bags when she was a little girl.
Grabbing one of the crew members, her eyebrows furrowed in an effort to hold back tears, Linda whispered in Arabic: “Can I please charge my phone? I need to send a message.” She held out an iPhone with a cracked screen and traces of salt dried onto it.
She had been out of contact for 22 hours, so her fiancé of three weeks – still stuck in a Libyan smuggling shelter – did not know if she was dead or alive.
When she was told she would have to wait a few hours, her tears spilled over.
Two days later, Linda was sitting cross-legged on a blue mat in the women’s area on the Humanity 1. Above her head, yellow and purple letters read “Welcome on board” in Arabic and French.
The women’s area comprised two large rooms on the main deck, one with 12 bunks and the other a children’s playroom with a mural of fish swimming towards a moon and teddy bears.
This would be the temporary home Linda would share with eight other women and 11 children who were rescued from the boat.
Five toddlers ran around, playing with rubber surgical gloves they had blown up into large, white, waving hands. A seven-year-old girl named Sarah* stopped to run her hand along Linda’s long, dark hair, lying in a thick veil down her back.
“You have to drench it in olive oil; that’s how you get it long and healthy,” Linda advised the little girl as she parted her hair with light fingers and braided it.
That morning, the survivors had been told the ship was heading to Taranto in southern Italy to drop them off safely. Linda cheered at the news, but that feeling had subsided.
Linda shows a photo of her bags that never made it across the sea [Al Jazeera]
Just over a month beforehand, Linda and her mother had sold their home in Syria to begin the journey to Germany to join her older sister, fleeing the war and famine that have torn the country apart since 2011. They are now among five million Syrian refugees, according to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNCHR).
Linda felt heavily the responsibility of getting her mother, who has limited mobility and impaired speech after falling and hitting her head, there safely. They flew to Libya and then spent a month in two different smuggling dens in Sabratha.
After paying some $17,000 – their life savings – for the dangerous crossing, Linda felt duped.
“What did we pay for?” she asked. “It’s gone and we got on a boat that didn’t take us anywhere.”
In the smuggling den, more than 100 women and children, mostly from Syria and Eritrea, were crowded into small rooms, waiting to leave the country.
The grey building and its yard were fenced by a high brick wall. It was impossible to leave, and some of the women had been there for as long as a year and a half.
In the evenings, when they were putting their children to bed on mats on the floor, Linda heard the women’s stories about how smugglers exploited women and girls in the shelter. They lured them out with offers of special treatment, promising they would leave Libya before everyone else, and dragged them into a haze of drugs and alcohol. Some were sold; others were raped. It was known that the men guarding the shelters did not have pure intentions. Some would get violent, Linda explained, rubbing the back of her hand against a fading bruise along her upper lip.
Linda was beaten by one of the smuggler [Al Jazeera]
“I got it from one of the smuggler’s men,” she said. “He wanted me, but I rejected him. This is nothing compared to what it looked like the first week.”
The memory sparked something, and Linda’s desolate expression from the first day was replaced with one of fierceness and determination.
“Travelling … as a woman, means I have to be stronger than a lion,” she said, clenching her fists. “I have to be furious, so nobody dares put their hand on us. I can’t stop being angry until I know we’re safe.”
In the smugglers’ den, the men’s and women’s quarters were separated by a big brown gate that was opened occasionally for the groups to mix. They would gather in the common space to smoke shisha and socialise.
Kamal*, a 21-year-old also from Daraa, was on the other side of the gate, and he was smitten.
“The first time he saw me, he immediately went to my mother, asking for my hand,” Linda said, smiling at the memory.
Falling in love with another refugee was not part of Linda’s plan. She had promised to take her mother to Germany then return to Syria; she did not feel that life in Europe was for her.
But she fell for Kamal – he was kind and handsome and made her feel seen amid the helplessness of her situation.
Their love story can only be described as brief. Because of the gate between the quarters, they only saw each other a few times a week. In the meantime, they kept in touch via messages and phone calls, planning their future away from the shelter.
“The gate separated us, but when they would open it, I would run to him. My heart was torn to pieces every time we had to say goodbye,” Linda said.
Then news came late one evening – after a month of waiting, departure for Italy was within hours. Linda and her mother packed the few belongings they still had: clothes, some photographs of their family, and the old house key that Linda wanted to keep as a memory.
Just as they were about to leave the shelter, one of the smuggler’s men – the one who had bruised Linda’s lip – decided not to let Kamal go.
“He pointed at him and said: ‘Not you, not today.’ We were one second from leaving together,” Linda said, her eyebrows furrowing again as she tried to control the tears.
“He was punished because of me; I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” she cried before silently staring at the floor, waiting for the tears to stop.
The children stopped playing and fell silent when they saw Linda crying. Three-year-old Amira*, a girl with golden curls, tried to comfort her by climbing onto her back.
When the girl’s mother entered the room to see what the silence was about, she darted away.
Rania, the 23-year-old mother, smiled at her little girl’s receding back.
“One of her legs is shorter than the other. She’s had surgery twice in Syria, but it hasn’t helped. Hopefully, they’ll be able to fix it in Germany,” she said, tucking a few strands of hair back into her headscarf and sitting beside Linda.
Linda and Rania became friends in the smuggling shelter, where Rania had already been for two months with her three daughters, her 10-year-old sister and her 12-year-old nephew when Linda arrived. Rania says their time there was a constant cycle of hunger, humiliation, lice and filth.
“We’d get small food deliveries every two or three days. My girls were crying for bread. And we weren’t allowed to leave the shelter’s walls, not a single step outside,” she said, holding up her index finger in warning.
When Rania’s husband was killed four years ago, shot 15 times in crossfire between Syrian regime forces and fighters in Daraa, she found herself alone with two daughters, pregnant with the third, and no job. She had to rely on relatives to send her money from abroad.
Every month, her mother – who relied on government benefits in Germany – sent $100. But eventually, Rania decided to try to join her mother. There was nothing left for them in Syria.
“My mother took out a loan of $4,500 so we could flee … as soon as I land, I’ll start working to pay every dollar back.”
Travelling alone as a woman comes with its rules, Rania explained, noting the first rule is that no matter how nice the men you meet along the way are, they will try to take advantage of you.
Sometimes this has meant that she has had to play dumb, acting like she didn’t understand their advances and was so struck with worry for her children that she could grasp nothing else.
![One of Rania's daughters, comforted in the cold. [Nora Adin Fares/Al Jazeera]](https://www.aljazeera.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/One-of-Ranias-daughters-comforted-in-the-cold1-1708686153.jpg?w=770&quality=80)
Rania talked over her three daughters running around the room, playing exuberantly. One of them dropped a packet of BP-5 bars, a high-calorie, vitamin-enriched emergency food that they were given on board. The young mother opened the package carefully and gave each girl a bar.
“On that boat, I was thinking over and over again: ‘How did I do this to my daughters? Am I crazy to risk their lives?’ I left because I wanted to keep them safe, but on that wooden boat, I couldn’t stop questioning what I was sending them to,” Rania said.
Linda added: “Those hours before we were rescued, she held her youngest and wailed.”
“All my daughters want to become doctors when we get to Germany,” Rania said, smiling proudly and pulling her youngest closer. Amira* giggled in her mother’s arms and shook her head.
“I dream of making kebabs and selling shawarma,” she announced, stamping her foot to punctuate her sentence.
The next morning, as the ship accelerated towards Taranto, Rania walked around barefoot. Her feet were pale against the deck’s cold surface, the harsh wind cutting through her black tracksuit.
Her shoes were left on the wooden boat when they were rescued, leaving her embarrassed to meet Italian land authorities barefoot.
“We have nothing left. The most important thing is my girls. I want to dress them, feed them, and see them live in peace. I don’t ever want to have to ask anyone for money again,” she said before going to thank the crew for helping her with her children.
Rania and her children leaving the vessel [Al Jazeera]
Sitting in rows with the other survivors, wrapped in grey blankets, Linda and her mother huddled close together, watching the small coastal town grow larger on the horizon.
None of the women were at the end of their journey, but Linda said she had regained her strength after the harrowing sea crossing.
The only belongings she had left were a small black purse containing their passports and her phone. She had lost the house key she brought from Syria.
“Everything is gone,” she said. “The days, the memories, every remaining part of our family.”
Linda finally managed to contact Kamal; he was still with the smugglers, and she worried about him.
Gazing out at the grey industrial harbour on the heel of Italy, she said that if he decided to return to Syria, she would be prepared to follow him, adding “I hope he’ll join me wherever I end up.”
* Names have been changed to protect the respondents’ identity.
(Aljazeera)
Features
Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka
World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future
by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?
These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.
World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.
We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.
Making more of what we already have
Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.
Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.
The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.
Stop wasting the food we produce
Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.
Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.
Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.
Nutrition and food safety come first
Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.
Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.
Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.
A food system that can cope with climate change
Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.
Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.
Give young people a bigger role
Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.
A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.
A pathway designed for Sri Lanka
We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.
The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.
The choices we make today
The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.
So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?
The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.
A better food future begins with the choices we make today.
Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna
Features
20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.
By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.
I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.
When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.
The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.
The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.
Features
‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’
Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24
I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.
The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.
The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.
After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.
The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.
Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.
Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.
He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.
Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.
Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.
Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.
Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.
So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.
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