The ghost village

We had driven down the beautiful backwaters of Sri Lanka's north-east coast, past shallow lagoons filled with flamingoes and storks, and bushes containing stunning bright blue birds. The palm trees remained upright, the birds were feeding as normal. Nature, as well prepared for disaster as ever, was back to normal.

But the entire village of Manalkadu was completely unprepared and has been obliterated, along with almost everyone who lived there.

There were about 65 families living here; about 500 people. According to the local Catholic bishop, 57 of those families were killed when the tsunami blasted through their houses, washing everything away, dumping some of the bodies far inland, while the remaining eight families are still missing.

Five days after the disaster, Manalkadu remains empty, deserted by its few survivors: a ghost town and a grave inhabited only by dogs, goats and scavenging birds.

The only man-made thing still standing and undamaged is the bright, bluepainted church.

"Everybody was wiped out," said the bishop, Thomas Savundranayagm, as he prepared to drive off to somewhere he could still do something to help.

"It just hit here with the fury of a mountain. Nobody had a chance."

Elsewhere in this area, arguments still rage about the speed of aid distribution and a l le ged discriminat ion against the Tamil north-east. In Manalkadu, these are arguments are irrelevant: there is no one left to save.

The bodies have been cleared away from the main street. But the ground is still scattered with personal possessions - purses, wallets, holy charms, false teeth. Much of the population seems to have been on this road trying to escape when the wall of water hit.

Manalkadu is on an exposed part of the coast jutting out into the sea. A sandbank did nothing to protect it.

Hundreds of yards back from the shore, the force of the wave reduced a substantial concrete house to a heap of jagged slabs. The householders' bathroom extension - better built than the rest of the place - perches on top, and a goat sits on the upturned bidet.

There is an extra dimension to the death toll here. Manalkadu was a frontier between government and rebel-held territory, with soldiers of Sri Lanka's 51st Division permanently stationed here. But sentry posts to guard against the Tamil Tigers could not guard against the water.

Some of the mines laid at the shoreline have been swept into the village and no one

dares look for bodies in the rubble for fear of disturbing the explosives.

"I lost 45 of my men," said the army captain in charge of the village. "Our base was half a mile back from the sea but it was still destroyed."

This part of the 51st Division is now camped by the roadside underneath those UN plastic sheets, although other military routines are still being observed.

While parading next to their bivouacs, an officer checked the sharpness of the soldiers' trouser creases.

Empty of people, with no one mourning and no one left to mourn, only one sound remains in Manalkadu: the gentle noise of the sea, the thing that started it all in the first place.

Sri Lanka today declared a day of national mourning and the usual New Year's celebrations were cancelled.

Across the country, streets, shops and traffic fell silent for 10 minutes at 12.30 local time, in prayer for the country's estimated 25,000 dead.

In the northern city of Jaffna, where 2,000 died, black bunting made from plastic bin liners hung in all the main streets and three-wheeler taxis displayed black flags. Passers-by were given smaller squares of black plastic to pin on to their lapels as a mark of respect.

At Udupiddy College, near Jaffna, hundreds of refugees from the floods stood with their heads bowed for ten minutes. The usual honking traffic on the nearby street also fell silent as cars, bicycles and motorcycles pulled into the side of the road.

"We had a very unhappy New Year and we are all prayingfor a better one," said college principal Krishnappillai Nadarajah, who has sheltered more than 1,500 refugees.

Later today, a mass ritual of remembrance will take place on Galle Face Green, Colombo's equivalent of Hyde Park.

Although not as important a holiday in the West - the Buddhist New Year does not start until April - 31 December is normally celebrated with firecrackers and dancing in a country famously keen on festivals.

All the big hotels in Colombo have cancelled their lavish society dinner dances tonight. All the ticket money has been donated to the disaster relief fund.