by Shanthi Padmalingam
My heart feels heavy. Maybe it is the longing to go back and help my people of Tamil Eelam. Maybe it is from looking at pictures of the people I have just met and don’t want to leave behind. Maybe it is the shock of realizing how very wrong I have been.Never having a true understanding of the Tamil people’s struggle for freedom, it was easier for me to sit on my satin sofa, thousands of miles away in America, and argue with my father about the necessity of the war the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam had waged. Why had they not been able to discover an alternative to war? Why have so many people died?
It was not until seeing the reality of Tamil Eelam that it dawned on me that this was not a war the Tigers had waged: this was a war the Sri Lankan government had waged on the Tamil people, forcing them to defend themselves and fight for a just peace... A peace in which Tamil students are guaranteed a fair and equal education; a peace in which 12-year old Tamil girls do not fear gang-rape by the Sri Lankan Army; a peace in which Tamil sons are not forced to watch their fathers stripped naked and burnt alive while policemen dance around the body in triumph.
As
I
stood
in
the
midst
of
thousands
of
graves
of
cadres
who
had
given
their
lives
for
their
struggle,
I
witnessed
the
true
meaning
of
what
it
means
to
be
selfless.
The
young
annas
and
accas
(brothers
and
sisters)
whose
names
are
proudly
etched
on
the
tombstones
had
passionately
dedicated
their
minds,
bodies
and
souls
to
this
movement.
What
were
they
expecting
in
return?
Something
that
I
take
for
granted
everyday
in
America
–
something
we
grow
up
with
here,
along
with
the
ABCs
and
123s
–
freedom.
The
young
annas
and
accas
did
not
join
the
LTTE
for
recognition.
They
did
not
leave
crying
mothers
begging
them
to
stay
home
in
order
to
receive
a
nice
salary.
And
though
many,
as
I
did
not
too
long
ago,
may
like
to
believe
that
the
cadres
picked
up
rifles
for
the
simple
sake
of
violence,
this
is
utterly
untrue.
Their
turn
to
armed
resistance
was
an
unfortunate
measure
the
Tamil
youth
had
to
take
in
order
to
ensure
a
just
peace.
In
the
words
of
one
anna,
"We
are
shedding
blood
so
future
generations
of
our
people
will
not
have
to
shed
any
more
tears."
It
saddens
me
to
think
that
people
outside
of
Tamil
Eelam
may
never
truly
understand
their
freedom
struggle...
That
people,
who
are
in
a
position
to
help
ease
the
suffering
there,
blindly
believe
the
media
and
label
the
LTTE
as
terrorists.
Maybe
I
will
never
know
the
complete
history
of
their
struggle,
or
every
detail
of
each
battle,
but
I
do
know
that
I
have
never
been
exposed
to
more
love
and
respect
than
I
felt
in
Eelam.
The
annas
and
accas
who
had
courageously
defended
their
families
against
the
terrorism
of
the
government
showed
me
what
it
means
to
live
for
a
just
cause
and
selflessly
live
for
the
people.
These freedom fighters, who many unjustly prefer to call "terrorists," have become more than just friends to me. They have become a part of my family. Playfully teasing me about my lack of cooking skills, giving me the self-confidence to speak my broken Tamil, laughing with me over ice cream, and tickling me to keep me from leaving so I could share their food with them are moments made many times more extraordinary when experienced with those we hold dear to our heart.
Upon
first
meeting
them,
I
did
not
think
I
would
ever
recognize
them
without
their
loving
smiles.
However,
after
talking
with
them
and
hearing
their
stories,
I
realized
it
was
not
just
their
smiles
that
drew
me
to
them.
It
was
the
depth
of
their
eyes.
The
pain,
the
heartache
that
they
held,
and
the
determination
that
their
children
would
not
feel
the
same
horror,
were
all
reflected
in
their
eyes.
I
always
wondered
how
they
felt
in
the
battlefield.
Weren’t
they
afraid
of
dying?
One
anna
asked
me
how
they
can
fear
death
when
that
is
all
they
have
ever
known.
It does not make sense to me how the man who thousands of children, orphaned by the conflict, affectionately call "Appah" (father) is also the same man who is hatefully deemed a terrorist in America. The leader of this freedom movement, Velupillai Pirabakaran, grew up with Tamil men and women crying to his mother while reliving stories of rape, torture and massacre by the Sri Lankan Army. After years of peaceful protesting, only to be urinated on, arrested, and abused, the Tamil people finally refused to accept further injustice. They decided to carry arms and defend themselves. Overcoming the obstacles involved in sparking a revolution, the LTTE could not have matured without the fierce support of its people. During war time, 70-year old grandmothers run in the streets carrying rifles in order to defend themselves from the Sri Lankan Army. When those same grandmothers are shouting words of inspiration that the youth of today must be able to defend themselves against those who are trying to erase the Tamil people’s culture and history, it becomes not just words, but expectations. Expectations that the Tamil people will not let their heritage be taken away from them.
As I think back on my moments spent with these "terrorists," I remember the sound they make when they giggle at a friend's impersonation of a fish. I remember the love in their eyes as they tell me why they joined the LTTE. I remember the sadness in one anna’s voice as he recalled watching two of his female classmates shot by the army. I remember the laughter on their faces as they clapped their hands to songs of freedom. I remember the pride in the way they raise the national flag of Tamil Eelam, in the hopes that one day, they will have a land they can call "home."
###
Posted September 12, 2005