Survivors cope as problems mount in Sri Lanka.

Byline: Tim Johnson

MADAMPA, Sri Lanka _ When relief vehicles arrive, disaster-stricken residents of this hamlet at the edge of the sea scramble to the roadside and clamor for attention.

But being too needy has its drawbacks. Mobbed relief workers often get frightened and drive away, trying to avoid a melee.

"When too many people flock at one place, they leave," said S.H. Bandusiri, a 47-year-old mason. "People shout. They don't like that, so they leave."

Relief efforts in parts of southern Sri Lanka accessible by road appear to be unfolding tolerably well, with fits and starts. Many unaffected Sri Lankan citizens, who are predominantly Buddhist, have come together in an outpouring of private assistance to the 850,000 or so people who lost their homes in last weekend's tsunami.

But need and suffering persist. And scores of impromptu refugee camps, while adequately stocked with food and replenished with drinking water, face dismal sanitation problems. Moreover, thousands of refugees at the overcrowded camps must sleep outdoors, usually on cardboard. After a few weeks, many of the camps are likely to become squalid.

The government, struggling with more pressing problems, has yet to decide whether the hundreds of thousands of seaside residents displaced by the walls of water that slammed into coastal Sri Lanka _ and nine other countries _ can rebuild on the same sites. If President Chandrika Kumaratunga has her way, they won't be able to live within a half-mile of the sea ever again.