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DROWNING

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(Excerpted from Fallen Leaves, the autobiography of
LC Arulpragasam)

My mother superstitiously told me, when I was about five years old, that I had two whorls on my head/hair (in Tamil ‘rettechuli’) and that therefore I should be careful of water and drowning. She did not allow me to swim in the sea. However, even in my student days, I realized that I had a love of water – lakes, lagoons or seas. It had its dangers too, as my mother’s superstitions seemed to prove. I relate three cases of my brushes with death by drowning.

I Was the Drowning Boy

I was boarded at the Royal College boarding when the whole of Royal College, including the boarding, was taken over by the British Army during World War II. I was forced to go into private boarding houses that happened to be down lanes by the sea. As for school, we had to share the University building with its students, leaving the mornings entirely free for me. Fortunately, I lived near the beach at Kinross Avenue, which gave me the opportunity to swim every day. I thus became a good swimmer by the age of 14, unbeknownst to my parents, who were posted in distant provinces.

The sea at Kinross Avenue had a raft with a diving board about halfway to the reef, which was about 300 yards from the shore. I had never swum to the raft; but one day I managed to swim past it. As the reef was near, I dared myself to swim to it. Having reached the reef (an achievement for me at that time), I challenged myself to swim past it to the open sea! I had hardly gone 20 yards beyond the reef, when I suffered a severe cramp in my right leg. My leg doubled up in pain and my body arched in two. I could not swim, I could not float: I struggled with both arms flailing, but I was going down. There was no use shouting because there was no one near me. I did not shout for help although I knew that I was going to drown – because I knew that it was my own fault. I went down twice, struggling for breath, for life.

Fortunately, a senior at Royal College (Basil Mendis) had seen me, a small boy, swimming to the reef alone. When I crossed the reef, he got alarmed – and watched me closely. When I went down, he shouted desperately to the best swimmers on the raft for help. Thank God, the raft was well positioned and that there was a life-saver on it! He dived off the raft, crossed the reef and reached me – just in time! He held me up physically and curtly ordered me to lie on my back. He held my head with both hands, with his body beneath me and used the back-stroke kick to safely bring me back to the shore – to the applause of the small crowd on the beach. I thanked him to the extent possible while vomiting water from my stomach and lungs.

Years later, while still working in Rome, I happened to be in Sri Lanka on vacation. When I was at the cinema, I saw the man who had saved my life. I recognized him because of his tall athletic build. He left his seat during the interval to go to the bar: I hurried after him. I reminded him how he had saved my life 40 years ago. I found out that his name was ‘Sirimanne’. I bought him a drink and we chatted for a while. It was regrettably brief, with the man who had saved my life 40 years ago.

Saving a Drowning Boy

In the second case where I nearly drowned, there was reversal of roles. Whereas I, the life-saver in this case was 22 years old, while the boy that I managed to save was about 14 years old – a strange reversal of roles. The similarity ends there: I had no training or experience in life-saving, whereas the boy I tried to save clung on to me till I almost drowned.

At that time, I was already working as an Asst. Lecturer in the University, living down Schofield Place by the sea. This gave me the chance to swim in the sea most mornings before going to work. One morning when I went for a swim, there were many on the beach. Among them was a batch of schoolboys about 14 years of age playing in chest-deep water, probably not knowing how to swim. I set about my purpose determinedly – which was to swim to the reef and back, although I was not very fit at that time. I managed to reach the reef, which was about 300 yards from the shore. I turned to swim back. I was halfway to the shore when I heard shouts of ‘Help, Help’! The cries were from the group of boys: one of them had been carried out by the current and was drowning.

The cries came from far to one side, which would have involved my swimming an extra 150 yards. I was unfit and doubted my ability to swim that extra distance. The cries got more urgent and desperate. There were no swimmers out there: so I had to save the boy, or he would die. It was a difficult decision to make: I was already too tired to try. Against my better judgment, knowing nothing about life-saving, I swam to save the boy. But as soon as I reached him, he clung on to me, pinioning both my arms, so that we both went down. I struggled to extricate myself, trying to come up for one last breath, but he continued to hold me down. I somehow managed to free one arm: I punched him in the jaw with all my might. With that, I was able to free myself and come up to breathe. Since there was nothing that I could do to save him, I tried to swim away; but I could not let him drown: so I turned back.

Again the boy clutched me with both arms, bringing me down. This time I consciously hit him hard on the jaw so that he recoiled, letting me go free. By this time we were near the shore: but I had no strength to go on. I remember that the boy was very fair, a Burgher boy.

I also remember that he was wearing khaki shorts with a white cloth belt that was trailing in the water. I knew that if I went near him, his grasp would lead to my death. Fortunately, underwater, I saw a huge wave come sweeping towards the shore. Keeping him at a good distance, I caught his trailing white belt. As the wave crested, I launched him in its path with all my might – to reach the outstretched arms of his friends.

It did not end there for me, however: I still had to reach the shore. All my strength had ebbed. By this time, I was almost vertical in the water, not able to swim even one stroke. I had to wait for the next wave to wash me to the shore. All the boys gathered around to thank me. While they went joyfully home, I lay retching on the beach for almost one hour.

Drowning with a Capsized Boat

I realized that I was a ‘water man’. I actively sought a lake near Rome, where I lived. I was lucky to find a fresh-water lake, only one hour’s drive away, Lake Bracciano (Lago di Bracciano). It was a very large lake, more than 800 feet deep.

I rented a piece of land on the lake and kept a sailboat there. I had never taken sailing lessons; but this did not deter me from sailing. One Sunday afternoon in early spring-time, I set sail with the wind at my back. I had little control over direction, going ‘where the wind listeth’.

I loved to hear the hiss of water at my bow, the whip of the wind in my sails and the gurgle of water in my wake. After some time, I realized that I had come a long way and was in the middle of the lake, about two miles from the shore, and distant from any boat. I decided to turn back. I knew in theory how to turn, but somehow my boat capsized in the strong wind.

Fortunately, I was a good swimmer, but the water was very, very cold in the middle of the lake in early spring. I was able to cling to the boat, which floated because of the air trapped underneath. I had not bothered to put on my life-jacket. Hoping that it would be trapped under the boat, I dived repeatedly for it – and found it.

I noticed for the first time that there was a whistle attached to it – which subsequently saved my life. I did not know how long I could keep my hold on the boat: meanwhile, I had to keep moving because the water was freezing. Although it was afternoon now, I knew that when night came, I would surely drown because my freezing fingers would lose their grip on the boat. I could not be seen by anyone, since I was in the middle of the lake. There was no hope!

Fortunately it was a Sunday – and there was a regatta on the lake. However, the boats had a set course and would never come near me. I had capsized in the middle of the lake – and nobody would see me! I saw a buoy perhaps one mile away from me, around which the boats had to turn to sail to the winning post. If only I could get to within hearing-distance of that buoy, perhaps someone would hear me or see me, before nightfall. I had to be rescued before nightfall or I would surely die.

My only hope was to swim to near the buoy. I had to swim with one hand while pulling the boat with the other, knowing full well that I had to pull the mast and sail under the water too. It was a struggle; but I knew that the alternative was a watery death. So I struggled and struggled, pulling the boat with alternating arms: I must have taken two hours to get near that buoy.

Whenever a boat rounded the buoy, I would blow the whistle with all my might – but to no avail. I was probably too far away from the buoy, while the wind was also against me. So I struggled to get closer to the buoy: even so, with the sound of the wind when they turned, successive boats never heard me. Desperate now, I came up with a new strategy: I needed to sound the whistle just as they turned the tiller and before the sound of the wind filled their sails; otherwise they would never hear me.

By this time, there were only stragglers left in the race. I lay in wait for a straggler: when one came, I blew my whistle desperately, but just at the correct moment. Thank God, they heard me! The crew had to abandon the race in order to rescue me. They were two French girls: they pulled me into their boat, thus saving me from certain death. They decided to save my boat too: they tied my overturned boat to theirs and towed it along, with the sails under the water too.

There could not have been a better ending to my escapade. I thanked the girls profusely in my broken French and regretted that they had to give up their race in order to save me. I limped home, none the worse for wear. Fortunately, my wife was not in Rome to hear of my misadventure!

Perhaps my mother’s superstition about drowning was almost true. Or perhaps I was working too hard (courting drowning experiences) to make it come true!



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Wishes, Resolutions and Climate Change

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Exchanging greetings and resolving to do something positive in the coming year certainly create an uplifting atmosphere. Unfortunately, their effects wear off within the first couple of weeks, and most of the resolutions are forgotten for good. However, this time around, we must be different, because the nation is coming out of the most devastating natural disaster ever faced, the results of which will impact everyone for many years to come. Let us wish that we as a nation will have the courage and wisdom to resolve to do the right things that will make a difference in our lives now and prepare for the future. The truth is that future is going to be challenging for tropical islands like ours.

We must not have any doubts about global warming phenomenon and its impact on local weather patterns. Over its 4.5-billion-year history, the earth has experienced drastic climate changes, but it has settled into a somewhat moderate condition characterised by periods of glaciation and retreat over the last million years. Note that anatomically modern Homo sapiens have been around only for two to three hundred thousand years, and it is reasoned that this stable climate may have helped their civilisation. There have been five glaciation periods over the last five hundred thousand years, and these roughly hundred-thousand-year cycles are explained by the astronomical phenomenon known as the Milankovitch Cycle (the lows marked with stars in Figure 1). At present, the earth is in an inter glacial period and the next glaciation period will be in about eighty thousand years.

(See Figure 1. Glaciation Cycles)

During these cycles, the global mean temperature has changed by about 7-8 degrees Centigrade. In contrast to this natural variation, earth has been experiencing a rapid temperature increase over the past hundred years. There is ample scientific evidence from multiple sources that this is caused by the increase in carbon dioxide gas in the atmosphere, which has seen a 50% increase over the historical levels in just hundred years (Figure 2). Carbon dioxide is one of the greenhouse gases which traps heat from the sun and slows the natural cooling process of the earth. This increase of carbon dioxide is due to human activities: fossil fuel burning, industrial processes, deforestation, and agricultural practices. Ironically, those who suffer from the consequences did not contribute to these changes; those who did contribute are trying their best to convince the world that the temperature changes we see are natural, and nothing should be done. We must have no illusions that global warming is a human-caused phenomenon, and it has serious repercussions.

(See Figure 2. Global Temperature and Carbon Dioxide Levels)

Why should we care about global warming? Well, there are many reasons, but let us focus on earth’s water cycle. Middle schoolers know that water evaporates from the oceans, rises into the atmosphere where it cools, condenses, and falls back onto earth as rain or snow. When the oceans warm, the evaporation increases, and the warmer atmosphere can hold more water vapour. Water laden atmosphere results in severe and erratic weather. Ironically, water vapour is also a greenhouse gas, and this has a snowballing effect. The increased ocean temperature also disrupts ocean currents that influence the weather on land. The combined result is extreme and severe weather: violent storms and droughts depending on the geographic location. What is happening on the West coast of the USA is an example. The net result will be major departures from what is considered normal weather over millennia.

International organisations have been talking for 30 years about limiting global temperature increase to 1.5oC above pre-industrial levels by curtailing greenhouse gas emissions. But not much has been done and the temperature has risen by 1.2oC already. The challenge is that even if we can stop greenhouse gas emissions completely, right now, we have the problem of removing already existing 2,500 billion tons of carbon from the atmosphere, for which there are no practical solutions yet. Scientists worry about the consequences of runaway temperature increase and its effect on human life, which are many. It is not a doomsday prediction of life disappearing from earth, but a warning that life will be quite different from what humans are used to. All small tropical nations like ours are burdened with mitigating the consequences; in other words, get ready for more Ditwahs, do not wait for the twelve-day forecast.

Some opined that not enough warning was given regarding Ditwah; the truth is that the tools available for long-term prediction of the path or severity of a weather event (cyclone, typhoon, hurricane, tornado) are not perfect. There are multitude of rapidly changing factors contributing to the behavior of weather events. Meteorologists feed most up to date data to different computer models and try to identify the prediction with the highest probability. The multiple predictions for the same weather event are represented by what is known as spaghetti plots. Figure 3 shows the forecasted paths of a 2019 Atlantic hurricane five days ahead on the right and the actual path it followed on the left. While the long-term prediction of the path of a cyclone remains less accurate, its strength can vary within hours. There are several Indian ocean cyclones tracking sites online accessible to the public.

Figure 3. Forecasting vs Reality

There is no argument that short-term forecasts of this nature are valuable in saving lives and movable assets, but having long term plans in place to mitigate the effects of natural disasters is much more important than that. If a sizable section of the population must start over their lives from ground zero after every storm, how can a country economically develop?

The degree of our unpreparedness came to light during Ditwah disaster. It is not for lack of awareness; judging by the deluge of newspaper articles, blogs, vlogs, and speeches made, there is no shortage of knowledge and technical expertise to meet the challenge. The government has assured the necessary resources, and there is good reason to trust that the funds will be spent properly and not to line the pockets as happened during previous disasters. However, history tells us that despite the right conditions and good intentions, we could miss the opportunity again. Reasons for such skepticisms emerged during the few meetings the President held with the bureaucrats while visiting effected areas. Also, the COPE committee meetings plainly display the inherent inefficiencies and irregularities of our system and the absence of work ethics among all levels of the bureaucracy.

What it tells us is that we as a nation have an attitude problem. There are ample scholarly analyses by local as well as international researchers on this aspect of Sri Lankan psyche, and they label it as either island or colonial mentality. The first refers to the notion of isolated communities perceiving themselves as exceptional or superior to the rest of the world, and that the world is hell-bent on destroying or acquiring what they have. This attitude is exacerbated by the colonial mentality that promoted the divide and conquer rules and applied it to every societal characteristic imaginable; and plundered natural resources. As a result, now we are divided along ethnic, linguistic, religious, political, class, caste, geography, wealth, and many more real and imagined lines. Sadly, politicians, some religious leaders, and other opportunists keep inflaming these sentiments for their benefit when most of the population is willing to move on.

The first wish, therefore, is to get the strength, courage, and wisdom to think rationally, and discard outdated and outmoded belief systems that hinder our progress as a nation. May we get the courage to stop venerating elite who got there by exploiting the masses and the country’s wealth. More importantly, may we get the wisdom to educate the next generation to be free thinkers, give them the power and freedom to reject fabrications, myths, and beliefs that are not based on objective facts.

This necessitates altering our attitude towards many aspects of life. There is no doubt that free thinking does not come easily, it involves the proverbial ‘exterminating the consecrated bull.’ We are rightfully proud about our resplendent past. It is true that hydraulic engineering, art, and architecture flourished during the Anuradhapura period.

However, for one reason or another, we have lost those skills. Nowadays, all irrigation projects are done with foreign aid and assistance. The numerous replicas of the Avukana statue made with the help of modern technology, for example, cannot hold a candle to the real one. The fabled flying machine of Ravana is a figment of marvelous imagination of a skilled poet. Reality is that today we are a nation struggling with both natural and human-caused disasters, and dependent on the generosity of other nations, especially our gracious neighbor. Past glory is of little help in solving today’s problems.

Next comes national unity. Our society is so fragmented that no matter how beneficial a policy or an idea for the nation could be, some factions will oppose it, not based on facts, but by giving into propaganda created for selfish purposes. The island mentality is so pervasive, we fail to trust and respect fellow citizens, not to mention the government. The result is absence of long-term planning and stability. May we get the insight to separate policy from politics; to put nation first instead of our own little clan, or personal gains.

With increasing population and decreasing livable and arable land area, a national land management system becomes crucial. We must have an intelligent zoning system to prevent uncontrolled development. Should we allow building along waterways, on wetlands, and road easements? Should we not put the burden of risk on the risk takers using an insurance system instead of perpetual public aid programs? We have lost over 95% of the forest cover we had before European occupation. Forests function as water reservoirs that release rainwater gradually while reducing soil erosion and stabilizing land, unlike monocultures covering the hill country, the catchments of many rivers. Should we continue to allow uncontrolled encroachment of forests for tourism, religious, or industrial purposes, not to mention personal enjoyment of the elite? Is our use of land for agricultural purposes in keeping with changing global markets and local labor demands? Is haphazard subsistence farming viable? What would be the impact of sea level rising on waterways in low lying areas?

These are only a few aspects that future generations will have to grapple with in mitigating the consequences of worsening climate conditions. We cannot ignore the fact that weather patterns will be erratic and severe, and that will be the new normal. Survival under such conditions involves rational thinking, objective fact based planning, and systematic execution with long term nation interests in mind. That cannot be achieved with hanging onto outdated and outmoded beliefs, rituals, and traditions. Weather changes are not caused by divine interventions or planetary alignments as claimed by astrologers. Let us resolve to lay the foundation for bringing up the next generation that is capable of rational thinking and be different from their predecessors, in a better way.

by Geewananda Gunawardana

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From Diyabariya to Duberria: Lanka’s Forgotten Footprint in Global Science

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Snakes and their name origins in Sinhala

For centuries, Sri Lanka’s biological knowledge travelled the world — anonymously. Embedded deep within the pages of European natural history books, Sinhala words were copied, distorted and repurposed, eventually fossilising into Latinised scientific names of snakes, bats and crops found thousands of kilometres away.

Africa’s reptiles, Europe’s taxonomic catalogues and global field guides still carry those echoes, largely unnoticed and uncredited.

Now, a Sri Lankan herpetologist is tracing those forgotten linguistic footprints back to their source.

Through painstaking archival research into 17th- and 18th-century zoological texts, herpetologist and taxonomic researcher Sanjaya Bandara has uncovered compelling evidence that several globally recognised scientific names — long assumed to be derived from Greek or Latin — are in fact rooted in Sinhala vernacular terms used by villagers, farmers and hunters in pre-colonial Sri Lanka.

“Scientific names are not just labels. They are stories,” Bandara told The Island. “And in many cases, those stories begin right here in Sri Lanka.”

Sanjaya Bandara

At the heart of Bandara’s work is etymology — the study of word origins — a field that plays a crucial role in zoology and taxonomy.

While classical languages dominate scientific nomenclature, his findings reveal that Sinhala words were quietly embedded in the foundations of modern biological classification as early as the 1700s.

One of the most striking examples is Ahaetulla, the genus name for Asian vine snakes. “The word Ahaetulla is not Greek or Latin at all,” Bandara explained. “It comes directly from the Sinhala vernacular used by locals for the Green Vine Snake.” Remarkably, the term was adopted by Carl Linnaeus himself, the father of modern taxonomy.

Another example lies in the vespertilionid bat genus Kerivoula, described by British zoologist John Edward Gray. Bandara notes that the name is a combination of the Sinhala words kiri (milky) and voula (bat). Even the scientific name of finger millet, Eleusine coracana, carries linguistic traces of the Sinhala word kurakkan, a cereal cultivated in Sri Lanka for centuries.

Yet Bandara’s most intriguing discoveries extend far beyond the island — all the way to Africa and the Mediterranean.

In a research paper recently published in the journal Bionomina, Bandara presented evidence that two well-known snake genera, Duberria and Malpolon, both described in 1826 by Austrian zoologist Leopold Fitzinger, likely originated from Sinhala words.

The name Duberria first appeared in Robert Knox’s 1681 account of Ceylon, where Knox refers to harmless water snakes called “Duberria” by locals. According to Bandara, this was a mispronunciation of Diyabariya, the Sinhala term for water snakes.

“Mispronunciations are common in Knox’s writings,” Bandara said. “English authors of the time struggled with Sinhala phonetics, and distorted versions of local names entered European literature.”

Over time, these distortions became formalised. Today, Duberria refers to African slug-eating snakes — a genus geographically distant, yet linguistically tethered to Sri Lanka.

Bandara’s study also proposes the long-overdue designation of a type species for the genus, reviving a 222-year-old scientific name in the process.

Equally compelling is the case of Malpolon, the genus of Montpellier snakes found across North Africa, the Middle East and southern Europe. Bandara traced the word back to a 1693 work by English zoologist John Ray, which catalogued snakes from Dutch India — including Sri Lanka.

“The term Malpolon appears alongside Sinhala vernacular names,” Bandara noted. “It is highly likely derived from Mal Polonga, meaning ‘flowery viper’.” Even today, some Sri Lankan communities use Mal Polonga to describe patterned snakes such as the Russell’s Wolf Snake.

Bandara’s research further reveals Sinhala roots in the African Red-lipped Herald Snake (Crotaphopeltis hotamboeia), whose species name likely stems from Hothambaya, a regional Sinhala term for mongooses and palm civets.

“These findings collectively show that Sri Lanka was not just a source of specimens, but a source of knowledge,” Bandara said. “Early European naturalists relied heavily on local names, local guides and local ecological understanding.”

Perhaps the most frequently asked question Bandara encounters concerns the mighty Anaconda. While not a scientific name, the word itself is widely believed to be a corruption of the Sinhala Henakandaya, another snake name recorded in Ray’s listings of Sri Lankan reptiles.

“What is remarkable,” Bandara reflected, “is that these words travelled across continents, entered global usage, and remained there — often stripped of their original meanings.”

For Bandara, restoring those meanings is about more than taxonomy. It is about reclaiming Sri Lanka’s rightful place in the history of science.

“With this study, three more Sinhala words formally join scientific nomenclature,” he said.

“Who would have imagined that a Sinhala word would be used to name a snake in Africa?”

Long before biodiversity hotspots became buzzwords and conservation turned global, Sri Lanka’s language was already speaking through science — quietly, persistently, and across continents.

By Ifham Nizam

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Children first – even after a disaster

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However, the children and their needs may be forgotten after a disaster.

Do not forget that children will also experience fear and distress although they may not have the capacity to express their emotions verbally. It is essential to create child-friendly spaces that allow them to cope through play, draw, and engage in supportive activities that help them process their experiences in a healthy manner.

The Institute for Research & Development in Health & Social Care (IRD), Sri Lanka launched the campaign, titled “Children first,” after the 2004 Tsunami, based on the fundamental principle of not to medicalise the distress but help to normalise it.

The Island picture page

The IRD distributed drawing material and play material to children in makeshift shelters. Some children grabbed drawing material, but some took away play material. Those who choose drawing material, drew in different camps, remarkably similar pictures; “how the tidal wave came”.

The Island” supported the campaign generously, realising the potential impact of it.

The campaign became a popular and effective public health intervention.

“A public health intervention (PHI) is any action, policy, or programme designed to improve health outcomes at the population level. These interventions focus on preventing disease, promoting health, and protecting communities from health threats. Unlike individual healthcare interventions (treating individuals), which target personal health issues, public health interventions address collective health challenges and aim to create healthier environments for all.”

The campaign attracted highest attention of state and politicians.

The IRD continued this intervention throughout the protracted war, and during COVID-19.

The IRD quick to relaunch the “children first” campaign which once again have received proper attention by the public.

While promoting a public health approach to handling the situation, we would also like to note that there will be a significant smaller percentage of children and adolescents will develop mental health disorders or a psychiatric diagnosis.

We would like to share the scientific evidence for that, revealed through; the islandwide school survey carried out by the IRD in 2007.

During the survey, it was found that the prevalence of emotional disorder was 2.7%, conduct disorder 5.8%, hyperactivity disorder was 0.6%, and 8.5% were identified as having other psychiatric disorders. Absenteeism was present in 26.8%. Overall, previous exposure to was significantly associated with absenteeism whereas exposure to conflict was not, although some specific conflict-related exposures were significant risk factors. Mental disorder was strongly associated with absenteeism but did not account for its association with tsunami or conflict exposure.

The authors concluded that exposure to traumatic events may have a detrimental effect on subsequent school attendance. This may give rise to perpetuating socioeconomic inequality and needs further research to inform policy and intervention.

Even though, this small but significant percentage of children with psychiatric disorders will need specialist interventions, psychological treatment more than medication. Some of these children may complain of abdominal pain and headaches or other physical symptoms for which doctors will not be able to find a diagnosable medical cause. They are called “medically unexplained symptoms” or “somatization” or “bodily distress disorder”.

Sri Lanka has only a handful of specialists in child and adolescent psychiatric disorders but have adult psychiatrists who have enough experience in supervising care for such needy children. Compared to tsunami, the numbers have gone higher from around 20 to over 100 psychiatrists.

Most importantly, children absent from schools will need more close attention by the education authorities.

In conclusion, going by the principles of research dissemination sciences, it is extremely important that the public, including teachers and others providing social care, should be aware that the impact of Cyclone Ditwah, which was followed by major floods and landslides, which is a complex emergency impact, will range from normal human emotional behavioural responses to psychiatric illnesses. We should be careful not to medicalise this normal distress.

It’s crucial to recall an important statement made by the World Health Organisation following the Tsunam

Prof. Sumapthipala MBBS, DFM, MD Family Medicine, FSLCFP (SL), FRCPsych, CCST (UK), PhD (Lon)]

Director, Institute for Research and Development in Health and Social Care, Sri Lanka

Emeritus Professor of Psychiatry, School of Medicine, Faculty of Medicine & Health Sciences, Keele University, UK

Emeritus Professor of Global Mental Health, Kings College London

Secretary General, International society for Twin Studies 

Visiting Professor in Psychiatry and Biomedical Research at the Faculty of Medicine, Kotelawala Defence University, Sri Lanka

Associate Editor, British Journal Psychiatry

Co-editor Ceylon Medical Journal.

Prof. Athula Sumathipala

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