The Sri Lankan Civil War left a devastating legacy of landmines and unexploded ordnance, particularly in the northern and eastern provinces of the nation. The HALO Trust has spent 20 years clearing mines from Puvaransanthivu Island, where the Our Lady of Velankanni Church is, allowing the faithful to finally return to a place of worship once cut off by war and violence.
By Francesca Merlo At sunrise on the 14th of March 2026, family boats began to cross the waters of the Jaffna Lagoon, heading towards Puvaransanthivu Island to gather under the scorching sun in a place that for years had been too dangerous to reach. There, on the northern Sri Lankan island, a small coastal church was waiting to celebrate its first full Feast Day in two decades, after humanitarian deminers cleared the last of the landmines that had surrounded it since the final years of the country’s civil war. As the world marks the International Day for Mine Awareness and Assistance in Mine Action on 4 April, the story is also a reminder of the scars left by unexploded ordnance, and of the painstaking work required to make land safe again. "It was a very emotional scene", says Rev. Fr. Jero Selvanayagam, who celebrated the Feast Day Mass at the Church of Our Lady of Velankanni. "People from the coastal areas came with their families. Usually, the men go fishing alone, but this time families came together". Life on the island Long before it became a place of danger, the island church was part of daily life. "It was used as shelter for the fisherfolk and also as a place of worship", explains Matthieu Guillier, Senior Programme Officer with The HALO Trust, the world's largest humanitarian landmine clearance organisation, and the one that carried out the demining operation. The shallow waters of the lagoon are rich in fish and cuttlefish, sustaining generations of coastal communities. Fishermen would travel out, lay their nets, and rest on the island. It was there, in the 1970s, that they built the small church. Fr Selvanayagam explains that "when they go far from home for fishing, they build a small chapel. They believe they must pray before going out, especially into a dangerous environment". But during the war, the island located between the mainland and the Jaffna peninsula became strategically important. Mines were laid to prevent access, leaving the church isolated for years. Guillier describes the scale of the legacy left behind: "At the end of the war, Sri Lanka was effectively littered with mines". And not only mines, he adds. "There are also bombs, grenades, mortars... and improvised explosive devices. You don’t always know if those are neutralised". For local communities, the consequences were immediate and long-lasting. "As long as their land is contaminated, they’re not able to resettle", Guillier explains. But even then, survival forced people to take risks. "Fisherfolk would use the island even when it was still contaminated... knowing that they were risking life and limb". Fr Selvanayagam remembers those years... "I have personally attended many funerals", he says, recalling those who died during the war. He also remembers a parishioner who, after the war, ventured onto the island and "lost his limb". Fr Selvanayagam recalls this as being one of the moments that revealed the hidden danger of mines and other unexploded ordnance on the island. The dangerous job of bringing safety Removing those dangers was neither quick nor straightforward. "The mines were placed specifically to prevent landing on the island", Guillier continues. To begin clearing, deminers had to work from boats, mapping the shoreline without stepping onto it. Only then could they begin creating narrow strips of safe ground. HALO, as they do in all thirty countries they operate in, hired local staff. "Every local member of staff we have has been displaced by the war", says Guillier. And the work continued, under difficult conditions: flooding, saltwater interference affecting detection equipment, dense mangroves that could not be cut, and even toxic plants and caterpillars – all amidst an ecosystem that needed to be preserved. "It’s extremely challenging", says Guillier, but removing explosives restores lives. "Demining is enabling development", he says. It allows people to return, to work, and to rebuild. All the hard work and its immediate results became evident on the 14th of March. Around one hundred and fifty people travelled by fishing boat to the island. They brought food, prayed together, and remained under the intense heat of the sun. Guillier himself was present. A time for renewal "It was a very moving ceremony", he says. "People were sharing food... showing their devotion". The journey was not easy - the crossing by boat, the heat, the long hours - but it was made willingly. Fr Selvanayagam sees this as part of a deeper tradition. "These festivals are Lenten pilgrimages", he says. "People make an effort to leave their homes, travel by sea, endure difficult conditions... it is a form of sacrifice and devotion". For decades, the island had been associated with fear. Now, just before Easter, it has once again become a place of gathering and prayer. "They feel that there is no danger", Fr Selvanayagam says. Sri Lanka’s northern regions remain among the most heavily affected by the legacy of war. Clearing the land, he adds, is not only about safety. It restores access to livelihoods and allows communities to return to places that hold social and religious meaning. The Church of Our Lady itself reflects a long-standing tradition among coastal Catholic communities. Seen in that light, the return to Puvaransanthivu Island comes at a moment when Christians are already reflecting on suffering, endurance, and renewal. Guillier observes that the clearance itself carries a similar resonance. Mines, he says, are not only physical dangers. They are "stark reminders of past trauma, past enmities, past hatred". Removing them allows communities "to put that past into rear view". The process of healing Yet the past is not entirely behind. As Easter approaches, Sri Lanka also marks the anniversary of the 2019 Easter bombings, whose wounds remain open. "There is still no full resolution", Selvanayagam said. "People are still waiting for accountability and justice". The process of healing, he added, extends beyond those attacks. It includes the many lives lost during the decades of civil war, including those who died seeking refuge in churches. Still, he insists, hope remains. "We are not without hope. God never abandons His people", he said. The practices of Lent and Holy Week, he added, help communities to "hope against hopelessness".