内容摘要：to press Western governments and the broader public to live up to their own professed values.

to press Western governments and the broader public to live up to their own professed values.

in a male-dominated society. She played a wife murdered by her husband in the film Nidhanaya (1972), a college student in a complicated relationship in Thushara (1973), a village girl hounded by male attention in Eya Dan Loku Lamayek (1975), and a girl from a rural fishing village enticed by the big city lifestyle, in Bambaru Avith (1978).This success continued into the 1980s, when she also expanded into directorial ventures, including in the films Sasara Chethana (1984) and Ahimsa (1987).

‘A bridge’ across generationsShe also starred in the first Indian-Sri Lankan co-production Pilot Premnath in 1978, opposite legendary Indian Tamil actor Sivaji Ganesan.“She never limited herself to one category. She was in commercial cinema and arthouse cinema,” said 27-year-old teacher Prabuddhika Kannagara. “She played a village girl, a young girl, a married woman, a mother, and even a grandmother. She represented women across all generations.”

Kannagara was one of the last mourners at the funeral, sitting and watching as sparks emanated from the white cloth tower in the square, specially erected for Fonseka’s cremation, according to Buddhist rituals.She told Al Jazeera that Fonseka had acted as a “bridge” across various eras of cinema, from black-and-white to digital, and had remained a star not only for her mother’s generation, but also for her own.

Fonseka was a five-time Best Actress winner at Sri Lanka’s Presidential Film Awards. Her most recent win was in 2006 for her role in Ammawarune. She also won international accolades at the Moscow International Film Festival and the New Delhi Film Festival.

She became Sri Lanka’s first female television drama director in the 1980s, a time when women’s participation behind the camera was unusual. Fonseka also had a short-lived foray into politics, serving as a member of Sri Lanka’s parliament from 2010 to 2015 under former President Mahinda Rajapaksa.What they need is true humanitarian aid – aid that provides not just calories, but a chance at a future.

True humanitarian aid would dismantle the siege, not manage its consequences. It would prosecute war criminals, not feed their victims with just enough to die slowly. It would restore Palestinian land, not try to compensate for its theft with boxes of processed food handed out in cages.Until the international community understands this simple truth, Israel and its allies will continue to dress instruments of domination as relief. And we will continue to witness tragic scenes like the one in Rafah yesterday, for years to come.

What happened in Rafah was not a failure of aid. It was the success of a system designed to dehumanise, control, and erase. Palestinians do not need more bandages from the same hands that wield the knife. They need justice. They need freedom. They need the world to stop mistaking the machinery of oppression for humanitarian relief – and start seeing Palestinian liberation as the only path to dignity, peace, and life.The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.