Man-made waterloo of Kinross Beach

FOR generations, Kinross Beach was more than just a stretch of sand; it was the vibrant heart of a community.

- By Roy Denish

It was the training ground for national athletes, the backdrop for countless family picnics, and the stage for sporting legends. It represented a shared public space where memory and community were forged, a testament to the simple, enduring joy of our coastal heritage. Yet, today, the ghosts of this arcadian past are swallowed by a desolate present, a mere rusting skeleton of what it once was. The once-vibrant shoreline is now a casualty of an unnatural disaster, a man-made waterloo that serves as a chilling indictment of civic neglect and corporate greed.

There was a time when Colombo’s Kinross Beach was not just a stretch of coastline but a living part of the city’s identity. The mornings were filled with the whistle of sea breezes and the shouts of swimmers as they cut through the surf. Families strolled along the sand, vendors sold tea and snacks, and young men and women trained in swimming and lifesaving under the watchful eye of their mentors. I still remember the feel of that sand under my feet, running athletic drills as the sun rose over the city, the sea breeze cooled my skin. It was a place where we mastered our skills, forged friendships, and built memories that shaped who we were.

Today, that golden expanse has been reduced to a narrow strip of eroded shoreline, lashed daily by waves and littered with the fragments of neglect — plastic bottles, torn wrappers, and even French-letters, all strewn carelessly where children once played. The most haunting sight is the fishing trawler, stranded years ago, now a rusting skeleton baking under the scorching sun. It has become an accidental monument to inaction, an unspoken reminder of how quickly we let our shared spaces decay. But make no mistake — this is no act of nature alone. It is a man-made catastrophe.

Urgent alarms