- How people staying in fuel queues are faring
A few days ago, we spent several hours attempting to get a tuk to go into work to no avail. Once we had walked to the top of the road, we could see why – dozens of tuks, cars, and bikes were all lined up at the petrol shed. What was absolutely insane was that the line for the shed stretched on for at least 2 kilometres.
Finding it literally impossible to find a tuk, or even a cab, to get to work, despite the prices having almost tripled overnight, we hopped a bus – where the fares have similarly increased by a considerable amount, and we were left wondering how those dependent on a daily wage would manage to do anything anymore.
This same day, once getting off the bus stand near Nelum Pokuna, we encountered another queue stretching over a few hundred metres – of people carrying cans and bottles of various sizes, lined up for kerosene. Just walking next to the line, one could almost hear people’s thoughts: “Will I get kerosene today?”, “I am late for work, but what to do?”, “How will we cook the next few days?”
Asking them to voice their thoughts provided the very same answers. Emotions were so high, in fact, that a small tiff had broken out between a street cleaner and a man who was also in line. Upon quick inquiry, the man told us: “We have been standing in line for hours in the hot sun; it’s unfair when people try to jump the lines. We also have families at home!”
It seems people in the line have lost all tolerance for anyone that attempts to jump the line.
The issue was apparently so serious that the gas station had stationed someone midway to question why people were walking in certain directions, and direct them back on the road, in case they were attempting to jump the line. People are obviously growing more and more desperate each day, finding it almost impossible to keep living.
Unfortunately the story doesn’t even end there; just at the end of that line, we encountered a string of cars – of which we couldn’t even discern the end of the line – waiting for petrol. By this point, over almost the entire route from home to work, we met with several queues – be it for gas, petrol, or kerosene, and even at some foreign embassies, where people were lined up attempting to obtain their visas and leave the country.
Fortunately or not, by not owning a vehicle, we cannot fully grasp the struggle that those who have to source petrol every other day have to face. Many have taken to social media talking about how many hours they have to spend in line early in the morning, and then rush to work. It’s worse for those that do wait in line, only to be told during their turn that the station is out of fuel, having to rejoin another line later in the day. These days, it seems Sri Lankans spend more time in queues rather than in their own homes – which doesn’t make much of a difference anymore, since there is no uninterrupted electricity supply.
Brunch took to the fuel station to ask a few people how they’re holding on to hope during these tough times. Chrishari Gunasekera, who had been in the queue for over four hours, told us that it felt like an absolute waste of her time. She had met her significant other for a date, but ended up spending most of it in the queue.
“Yes, we still get to spend time with each other, but it’s not the same. We should be enjoying our time together, not being anxious as to whether or not we’d be able to go home,” she told us, adding that they were in line from 11.30 p.m. till 3.30 a.m. only to find out that their fears were not unfounded – there indeed was no fuel. She noted how filling stations are placed with enough distance so that lines don’t occur and there is no traffic, but the queue for the station that they were at stretched past two fuel stations.
She also spoke about how lucky she was to have her partner with her, because as a woman, she would not have felt safe queuing for so long at that hour – without any bathroom facilities either. “Tensions are high, and people are desperate; there is a possibility of fights breaking out and I would not have wanted to experience such a thing,” she told us.
On that topic, she told us that there were people standing for fuel as well, as they did not have enough fuel to even bring their vehicles out. “There was one lady, carrying a small bottle in hopes of getting it filled, standing in line, all alone at such a terrible time in the morning,” she described, adding that she cannot even fathom what her life must have come to at that point.
She lamented that she had no idea where the country is heading and for how much longer people can continue to live like this.
Similarly, Irshad, a three-wheeler driver we hired to get home from a friend’s birthday dinner at around 4 a.m., was in a huge rush to drop us off, and when asked why, he told us that he had to go line up for fuel. He explained that the stations open at 6 a.m., so he needed to be in line by at least 4.30 a.m., otherwise the lines would get too long and the chances of obtaining fuel would be little.
“We are helpless. We spend so many hours of the day in line for a little fuel, and we barely have time to make hires anymore,” he said, gesturing to the fuel lines as we were passing them. “People complain that our fares are too high now, but what can we do? There are only so many hours a day, and what we earn is hardly enough to put one meal on the table.”
One local artist, who did not wish to be named, had also spent most of her weekend in line for fuel.
“I spent 28 hours in my car trying to get fuel so I can drive to work and back, which is all I’ve been doing lately,” she said, adding that during these 28 hours, she had multiple meltdowns and slept alone in her car, but when she was eight cars away from getting fuel and couldn’t imagine queueing up from the very beginning for about 3 km again, she felt a shred of hope.
Describing the proceedings at these fuel lines, she told us that several people approached it on a shift basis, where someone came over to relieve them so they could get some respite. She added that she had to walk to the closest food outlet to use the washroom. “People came around giving us fish buns and orange juice,” she shared, speaking about the hospitality of our citizens.
In line with her was a mother with her six-year-old child, who eventually went home after her dinner shift was done.
Eventually, she was the only woman in the queue, and several people came over to assure her that they’d look out for her.
“‘Don’t be scared nangi, you stay here and we will get petrol tomorrow, don’t worry,’ they told me,” she shared, adding that she had thought about just bursting into tears and quitting about thrice during the ordeal.
“I was feeling hopeless and overwhelmed, only to be comforted by the people around me,” she added. The fuel bowser arrived at the 24th hour, which was quickly followed by the three-wheeler drivers deciding to block off the road and access to the shed because they wanted an increase in their petrol quota.
“They protested for four hours. At the 28th hour, I finally obtained fuel,” she stated. She added that she feels for the three-wheeler drivers, and understands why they were protesting for a higher allowance, but she had also felt so defeated. “As per usual, just when things were starting to look up, there was yet another issue to be resolved,” she sighed in exasperation, observing the pickle that our authorities have put us in.
Sri Lanka, a country that used to invite foreigners by speaking of elephants roaming the roads amidst our lush greenery and hospitality, is now reduced to sights of millions of people clinging to their last shards of hope, standing in line, trying to make it through to tomorrow. Right now, most of us can only dream of a better life – until it’s time to move up in the queue.
