An Account of Loss, Resilience, and the Revelation of Character During the Dithwah Cyclone

The disaster that recently swept across Sri Lanka was a multi-faceted tragedy—a horrifying convergence of Dithwah Cyclone winds, devastating floods, landslides, and the ominous specter of post-calamity infectious diseases. It mercilessly claimed lives and stripped countless others of their life’s savings and property. This article is not a news report, but a detailed chronicle of my own family's harrowing experience, told with the precision of dates and the rawness of personal grief, reflecting on our immense losses, the trials we endured, the profound lessons learned, and the absolute necessity of future preparedness.

My family and I began our journey to Colombo on the morning of November 26th for a personal work engagement. It was a rainy day, but the persistent drizzle was not yet cause for alarm. Upon completing our work and hoping to return home by evening, the increasing severity of the rain compelled us to alter our plans. Instead of heading back to our residence, we prudently retreated to my wife mother's house, situated approximately 30 km away, arriving around 10 PM. The rain was heavy, but a round of calls to relatives offered a fragile reassurance: "Yes, it’s raining, and the cyclone is active, but there is no flooding here." This feedback provided a temporary cushion of calm. Yet, as a father, a silent worry persisted beneath the surface, a knot of unease about the safety of our home and possessions, even as I hoped earnestly that all would remain secure.

The Cyclone Experience – November 27 to December 1

The morning of November 27th shattered any remaining hope. Eagerly starting our journey back home, we were confronted by the devastating reality: our home was flooded. A paralyzing wave of shock hit me as I surveyed the destruction. Our most important possessions—books, critical documents, clothing, food stores, and several electronic items—were already submerged. Panic quickly gave way to focused action. We worked hard, attempting to secure the high-value items that remained untouched. On the sound advice of friends, I made a crucial plan to move our car to a higher, safer location. Our first, immediate priority was the safety of my children and wife. We swiftly moved them to my wife's sister's home, where the ground was still dry. Only then did I return to park the car there. The torrential rain of the Dethwah Cyclone was now incessant. That night, sleep was impossible; the anxiety was all-consuming. We managed a small, shared comfort, cooking some rice and curry from available items and sharing tea and milk. For this simple, necessary sustenance, I silently offered thanks.

The morning of November 28th brought a terrible surprise. The road leading to my sister's house had become blocked, also flooded, trapping the car. Slowly, insidiously, the water level in the parking area began to rise, forcing me to take the precaution of covering the car's exhaust silencer. The sister's house, too, was now threatened by the creeping water. We realized this location was no longer safe. A plan was quickly devised to move both our family and the sister's family to the house of a friend. By this point, the area was experiencing a near-total systemic breakdown: water supply was cut, there was no power supply, and communication facilities were nonexistent due to the extreme weather. We made our way to the main road, only to find a massive flood—more than one foot deep, allowing passage only for heavy lorries and a few robust vans.

Standing by the roadside in the relentless downpour, we desperately tried to flag down any vehicle. It was here, amidst the chaos, that my elder daughter lost one of her shoes to the rushing water. Seeing her distress, some other people expressed their sorrow and offered biscuits to comfort her. Then, around 11 AM, a moment of pure grace: an empty tipper lorry stopped and offered us passage. This act of altruism felt like a miracle. My friend welcomed three families with extraordinary warmth. Her own situation was precarious: her husband was away in another district and unable to return, leaving her alone to manage the crisis. Furthermore, her home was without electricity, and critically, water—meaning she had no supply even for basic washing needs. Yet, she managed an incredible feat of logistics, cooking and caring for us all day and night. The meal was exceptionally comforting: hot rice, paruppu curry, tinned fish, egg fry, and papadam, along with continuous offerings of biscuits, tea, and coffee. She prepared less spicy food suitable for the children and graciously tolerated their disturbance. The image of her smiling face while coping with such immense personal pressure remains an indelible memory.

With the relentless drumming of the Dethwah Cyclone continuing outside, I became acutely aware of the impossible burden we were placing on our friend, who was managing three families, alone, and without water. To prevent further strain and out of profound respect for her hospitality, I felt compelled to make a painful decision. On the morning of November 29th, I decided we could not impose on her goodwill for another moment. To spare her the anxiety of our departure and to make the transition easier, I told her a lie, assuring her that my wife's sister's home had returned to normal conditions, and we would be moving back there. Instead, we secured a room in a distant hotel.

The hotel offered water but no food and no electricity. It was far from town, with no vehicle movement. I found myself waking up repeatedly throughout the night, walking long distances in the rain to find a retail shop open for biscuits. The one small sign of hope was that the flood level was gradually decreasing, even though our homes were still submerged. With no food services open, I had to find a way to feed my family. Using a friend's borrowed motorbike, my sister's husband and I went alone back to our submerged house. We managed to cook some rice and curry using the few, existing materials we had, providing a much-needed meal for morning and lunch. Seeing the happy faces of our kids was a powerful antidote to the fear. Yet, visiting the house was a moment of utter despair; I had a mental breakdown seeing the scale of the destruction and loss. My car, still parked at the distant, flood-hit location, remained underwater, and friends strongly advised against starting it. Adding to the frustration, my own motorbike was parked in yet another location, unreachable due to flood-blocked roads.

That same night, the hotel staff offered a tremendous respite. They started a generator, providing us with electricity. We were ecstatic to charge our mobile phones and finally enjoy a good night's sleep with the lights on. It was a tiny victory—a breath of normal life amidst the chaos.

The morning of November 30th brought the welcome sight of a beautiful sunrise. I rushed out to check the levels; the water had reduced significantly. With relief, we secured the motorbike and began moving our belongings from the hotel to my sister's house, which was now dry enough to occupy and clean. Our own house remained under water. We stayed there that night, cooking with the remaining provisions: some dried fish (karuvadu) and residual rice. However, the house was damp, and we had to pass the night uncomfortably, sleeping on chairs and available cots. On December 1st, the water level had finally drained enough for us to enter our home. The clean-up work began slowly, taking a grueling three days to thoroughly scour and sanitize the house. Today, December 7th, the cleaning continues. My car, unable to be moved, was towed away by garage personnel, and its repair work is still ongoing. A bitter truth remains: to this day, we have received no form of emergency relief or official support. 

Losses – Material, Emotional, and Social

The floodwaters left a trail of devastating and complete loss. Our material losses are comprehensive: numerous dry food items, essential electrical appliances, irreplaceable books, clothing, and crucial Dambro furniture were ruined. The cost of car repairs, coupled with the loss of the motorbike's use, added severe financial strain. Emotionally, the lowest point was being forced to ask others for food—a humiliation that stripped away self-sufficiency. The pain of relying on the goodwill of others was profound. Yet, this painful dependence simultaneously revealed the profound value of small kindnesses and the genuine support of true friends.

Lessons Learned and a Message of Hope

This ordeal, while catastrophic, has been a brutal but ultimately enlightening school of life. The greatest spiritual lesson is that these crises are opportunities given by Providence to reveal true human nature—to understand who stands with you when everything else is stripped away. The decision to leave my friend's house, though requiring a deception, was itself a lesson: true gratitude sometimes means protecting your benefactors from undue burden. I am forever grateful for the value of good relationships, kindness, and community that saw us through.

The disaster taught us a fundamental practical lesson: disaster can strike without warning. It underscores the urgent need for better preparedness in Sri Lanka, not just at a national level, but within every home. Moving forward, our family is committed to comprehensive future planning:

• Creating a grab-and-go emergency kit with essential supplies and first aid.
• Securing all critical documents in waterproof, accessible storage.
• Planning to raise electrical items and valuable furniture (like our remaining Dambro furniture) onto temporary platforms upon the first cyclone warning.
• Maintaining a reserve of stored food and water for at least a week of self-sufficiency.

I express my deepest gratitude to God for protecting my family and ensuring our survival. I pray for eternal rest for all those who lost their lives. My greatest hope is that every family affected by this devastation will find the strength to rise again, rebuilding their lives and their communities. We are alive today, and for that, we are truly blessed. May God grant us all the strength and the generous heart to support others in their greatest time of need.