Swimming in Sri Lanka

I have been swimming in the ocean for the first time since the tsunami. For a long time, I had no desire to go. The water had all been churned up by the waves and was dirty. I have also become more aware of all the raw sewage that ends up in the ocean -- and the speed with which even a small wound can become infected.

Not to mention bad memories from the day of the tsunami.

My phobia of the ocean disappeared when I took a trip along the coast to Tangalle, the southernmost point in Sri Lanka. The water looked so clear and inviting that I couldn't resist plunging in. It was everything I have ever associated with the Indian Ocean: crystal clear blue waters, golden sand, green palm trees.

If I am hesitant to go back into the water, then you can imagine how many Sri Lankans feel, particularly if they lost their loved ones during the disaster. People here have a complicated relationship with the sea. For fishermen's families, in particular, it is the source of their livelihoods. But it is also a source of tragedy and sorrow.

Even before the tsunami, Sri Lankans didn't think of the sea as a place of relaxation, the way Westerners do. Except for the fishermen, most Sri Lankans don't know how to swim and never take organized swimming lessons. The girls never set foot in the water, and even teenage boys tend to be poor swimmers.

Had people here known how to swim, the death toll in the tsunami (some 35,000 Sri Lankans killed or missing) would probably have been reduced by at least half. (I estimate that 80 percent of those killed in the tsunami were nonswimmers, for the most part children or women.)

When my brother Geoffrey first told me he was thinking of raising money for public swimming pools in Weligama and two other towns, I thought it was a crazy idea. After all, there is an ocean nearby, and a host of other pressing needs in Sri Lanka, including the construction of thousands of new homes. But I am beginning to change my mind. A program to teach Sri Lankans how to swim might be a truly positive outcome of the tsunami.

As far as I know, there are no public swimming pools in Sri Lanka. A 25-yard, eight-lane pool, complete with changing rooms, would cost around $75,000 to build, and $5,000 a year to maintain (including salaries for two staff).

For the moment, it's a pipe dream, which may or may not come to fruition. If you have views about this -- pro or con -- drop me a line.

-- Michael Dobbs

By washingtonpost.com |  February 23, 2005; 5:00 AM ET  | Category:  Michael Dobbs
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