THE LANDOWNER
Ananda Jayadewa, 50, built the first cabanas on the beach in 1980. Today, he owns the largest hotel, the Paradise Beach Club, which is totally wrecked, and two establishments near by, which were not damaged. "The travellers who came here first loved the beach. It was totally undeveloped, no one was trying to sell you things - it was peaceful and friendly," he said. He has had to lay off his 80 employees at the beach club. Asked if he would look after their families, he said: "We've given them a reference letter saying they worked for us. That's all I can do."
THE WIDOWER
Osmund Fonseca, 60, overslept on 26 December, which saved his life. His wife and adopted son had spent the holiday with relatives at Matara and he was supposed to be meeting them on a train back to Mirissa. He got to the local station late and was unable to gain a foothold. A few minutes later, the train was caught by the waves and his wife and son drowned. "I was married for 21 years. I am alone now but I have learnt how to endure."
THE MOTHER
Thotabadugee Lakmini, 25, keeps her son Lasidu, aged 16 months, pressed close to her chest. She has hardly let him out of her sight since he was torn from her grasp when the waves struck. Her plight could have been worse had the first wave, which flooded their house with a foot of water, not given them warning. She fled with Lasidu under her arm, but the second wave swept her off her feet and she was unable to hold on to him. After an hour of frantic searching, she found her son, unharmed, in a bush.
THE SHOPKEEPER
Karuna Siripala lost a freezer, two fridges and 275 boxes of Fanta - his entire stock for the tourist season. He also lost one wall of his shop. To signal to his customers that he was still open for business, he put a counter that was undamaged outside and displayed a few of his goods. "I hope the government will help," he says. "I have applied for a bank loan but many people have lost shops. The government told the banks to grant loans to shops, but there is a waiting list." He grins. "I can laugh now, but I couldn't then. Some people lost their lives, families, everything."
THE TEACHERS
Nine primary-school teachers lost their homes and 450 children lost their school in the tsunami. The Methodist primary school was sited on the beach close to Parrot Rock. Now two halls have gone, and a third is ripped in half. A sign on a pillar supporting the wrecked roof reads in English: "Life is not a bed of roses." Temporary classrooms are being put up in the playground of the secondary school, half a kilometre away. But no one knows when, or even where, a replacement primary school will be built. One teacher said: "I thought we were all finished when the wave came. If the school had been open, many children would have died. We would have all died."
THE TAILOR
For two years, Lionel Hettihewa, 42, made a good living from tourists. He had a boutique right on the beach where you could buy a tailor-made shirt for 400 rupees (£2.20). "It was a very good location - between the best restaurant and the most popular hotel. I only sold to travellers," he says. Now, not only the shop but the travellers have gone. He has been kept in business by orders for school uniforms, paid for by foreign donors, to replace those lost in the tsunami. "I am waiting till the hotels are rebuilt. No one is on the beach now. I think the tourists will come back but it will take at least a year. It will be difficult, but I can survive."
THE FISHERMAN
Suwanda Sumudu, 26, the husband of Thotabadugee Lakmini, is still not back at work. He was employed on a large, 28ft catamaran that was badly damaged and is being repaired. Even if he could go back to sea, the prospects are not good. The market for fish has collapsed along with the tourist trade - the price of 1kg of tuna has fallen by 75 per cent. The couple had begun building a new house before the tsunami. Now they are dependent on charitable support to complete it.
THE MONK
The Suranadan Buddhist Temple has stood for 140 years in its present position, 200 metres from the beach. Its small stupa [shrine] was undamaged, but the exterior wall and nursery school were demolished, and 4,000 of the 6,000 books in its library were destroyed. The Rev Ahangama Piyaguna Thero, head monk of the training school, estimates that repairs to the hostel where the trainees live will cost 50,000 rupees (£270). But a better option, he says, would be a new three-storey building costing 120,000 rupees (£650). "When the tsunami comes again we must have protection," he says.
THE AID WORKER:
After a disaster like this, people need things to happen very quickly
I have worked as an emergency aid co-ordinator for nearly 15 years. After September 11, I was the first aid worker to go into Afghanistan. I've worked in Rwanda, Sudan, Somalia and Angola. For the last two years, I've been with No Strings, a charity that uses puppets to help children - and adults - talk about their emotional traumas. Our first project, in Afghanistan, used puppets to teach people about land-mine safety awareness.
After Boxing Day, I was seconded to Sri Lanka by Goal, the humanitarian agency, to work here on the logistics side of things. It was clear the adults needed to be activated. Every day you meet people who've lost partners, parents and children, and it lifts them to have something to focus on, to clear away some of the devastation and help to rebuild.
They've been very keen. It has also allowed them to earn some money and become self-sufficient - another vital step. We've set up cash-for-work schemes, paying them local rates on a daily basis to clear the roads, to repair boats, to set up a brick factory co-operative and to start building schools.
When I arrived, Louise Conlon, an Irish nurse seconded to Goal, had already started a small school in one of the temples. I saw it as something we should use as a model and expand immediately. Progress has been tremendous. So far, we've got five temporary schools set up in rooms in various temples, with more than 1,000 children involved. But, ultimately, the monks will require their rooms back, so we're now building more permanent sites to replace them.
It's incredible how hard people have been working. One group of monks cleared a dense jungle site in a day for us. I thought it was a joke when I saw the area. They've been going round the clock, and we now have two substantial schools half built, with their foundations in and everything.
It's funny the things that have been important. People have lost everything, so we supplied books and paper and pens and things, and used local tailors to make school uniforms. The uniforms were one of the first things asked for. They are lovely white and green things with little ties, and the kids went wild for them. For the kids, it's all part of the normalisation of things. It's very important that what we're doing isn't different from before.
Now, the focus is moving from dealing with the emergency to helping children to cope with what they've been through. There's a Unicef child protection unit here to help the more traumatised children, but all the kids could do with this. We'll be looking to do more through No Strings projects later. So far I haven't done much with Hamish, my puppet, but when I have brought him out, they have gone nuts. We'll probably start with a basic message, as in Afghanistan while we were setting up the project to teach children about the danger of land mines. You don't make it too heavy, and you bring in lots of fun.
What we've been able to do here is start to get people back on their feet. You want it all immediately. We have run into problems over deeds and so forth where we want to build, but that happens. You have to tell yourself to be realistic. I do. I can't believe how quickly these projects have taken shape. That's what people need; they need things to happen fast, and they need to be involved."
Johnie McGlade