Saturday, January 10, 2009


Before I migrated to the United States, I lived with my parents in my birthplace Jaffna. We had been forced by the ongoing civil war to change our dwellings frequently. We were then living in a rented house, which was our 35th address in fifteen years.  We left our ancestral home on one morning in 1990 when the fight broke out between the Tamil Tigers and the national army of Sri Lanka, in other words between minority group Tamils (Hindus) and majority Sinhalese (Buddhists).  We lived in a village in Jaffna, the capital of North where 65% of the Tamils or minority resides. We had tropical weather all year round with monsoon rains for three to four months.  The war was ethnic, religious, and racial. It has destroyed so many lives, possessions, and culture and still continues to do so. The only highway that connected the North with other parts of the nation has been shut for a long time. As results there was not enough food supply, medicines and baby food since everything had to arrive from the South. None of my family members including myself ever wanted to leave our home for any good or bad reason except for occasional visits to relatives for short periods. I always looked forward going to my uncle’s to spend a weekend and play with my cousins. Special events in the family also brought all of us together often.

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