Going to school passing a mass grave, every day

Investigators last week uncovered what appears to be a feeding bottle at the Chemmani mass grave.

By Amantha Perera 

It was almost as an afterthought that he added, “you know, I know this place very well, I used to go to school past this every day.” My friend and colleague was describing the daily journey that all of us took. 

His was ordinary in many ways, but extraordinary in others. Every day he had to disembark from the bus mid-journey, show his identity documents to the military personnel and move on if they allowed him. 

Where he was stopped not knowing what lies next now has become infamous.  For the last two months it has seen trained specialists spend days painstakingly excavating skeletal remains. It first became known as a mass grave in 1998, when an ex-soldier revealed details after he was convicted of the rape and murder of a schoolgirl.

“There was a massive military camp here and people would be detained if there was any suspicion. I just can’t imagine what some of these people went through,” my friend tells me. The army checkpoint he passed every day hid a macabre secret, next to the public burial ground at Chemmani bodies were disposed without care, some after torture and assault,"

My friend is a journalist now and these days almost every day he travels to Chemmani. He has been reporting on the ongoing excavations. This latest round of excavations began when workers removing earth in the area discovered human skeletal remains. So far, the excavations have unearthed skeletal remains and bones of over 100 bodies, including at least one that has been confirmed to be under five years old. 

While he waits hours observing the work, my friend is reminded of his school journeys, of the whispers he heard of Chemmani and friends, loved-ones and strangers who disappeared without any trace. He told me that when he goes home, he finds it hard to reconcile himself with the images that have revealed themselves in front of him as if in slow motion. As the investigators brush off earth from them the dark brownish bones lie motionless and slowly try to tell their tales.

Like that of the blue school bag recovered next to one, or the child’s toy. Last week investigator recovered what appeared to be an infant feeding bottle. “It is difficult to get these images out of my head,” my friend tells me.

“This is the story of my community, I am part of that community. I can’t just report and look the other way.”

My colleagues at the Dart Centre Asia Pacific, Cait McMahon OAM, PhD and Dr Kimina Lyall talk often about different types of trauma journalists are exposed to. Chemmani is a worse case scenario – it is community trauma, it is intergenerational trauma, continuous trauma and cultural trauma, all in this one former checkpoint. It is also deeply personal and intimate.

Equally it encompasses a newer form of trauma exposure, #TechnologyFacilitatedTrauma (TFT). The story of the skeletons that talk of a dark and macabre history, is told on the web, on social media. The story has opened deep divisions within Sri Lankan society. Reporters have been trolled and abused. They have been threatened. One told me of a recorded threat that arrived in his inbox at 1.30am when he was working on the story alone in his room. This is where the reporters get their first pulse on their reporting. This is also where they react to them. They also face up to a ton of hate, anger and racism with barely any resources or any experts to help them.

No one I have spoken with has said that they are removing themselves from the reporting. It shows an amazing sense of dedication and courage. It also shows a lack of awareness on the inherent dangers that come with such reporting.

Chemmani is the example of a story that is hybrid at all levels – it inhabits the offline and online worlds with equal levels of horror and disgust. (Courtesy: LinkedIn/ Amantha Perera)