It makes no sense at first. The tents that line Sri Lanka's coast sit in the strangest places, on sites strewn with rubble and concrete slabs slashed by the tsunami so edges form ragged cliffs.

Villagers live there, on the foundations of what were once their homes, because of squatters. They worry people will claim the land as their own and try to convince the government or a charity to give them a house.

Similar con games are played to get shelter, boats, mattresses and propane fuel. At least one observer thinks the deception is growing worse because some charities and even more of their volunteers are running out of money and leaving Sri Lanka.

Villagers realize few people will be left to help them, said Alison Thompson, a former nurse from New York who now runs a refugee camp for tsunami survivors.

"They're in the desperate stage of 'What can we get?' " she said. "They're actually lying."

The lies are pushed by the overwhelming need for temporary housing before the summer monsoon, permanent homes after that, temporary classrooms, rebuilt schools, clean wells, toilets, factories and fishing nets.

There's so much need that relief workers are sometimes shadowed by villagers asking for handouts. A little boy following Americans down a railroad track asked for candy by repeating one word, "lolly." When he got the treat, he had another request. "Book bag."

Representatives of charities that are building homes or buying boats say they investigate claims to make sure aid goes to people who need it most. But Will Prosser, a volunteer from Ventura working in a fishing village, said many organizations are satisfied if 80 percent of their funds go to needy people. He said others are happy with 50 percent.

Deception is one of many problems. Some charities complain their relief is channeled through a Sri Lankan government that is overwhelmed. Supplies end up in warehouses.

Sri Lankan officials have said primary reconstruction efforts were delayed until April because other countries and donors took that long in making good on about $1.5 billion of their pledged aid.

Some outside relief leaders say the government responded to people's immediate needs and has done as well as any bureaucracy could in dealing with a tragedy that left 500,000 people homeless.

"People did get fed," said Stephanie Bunker, spokeswoman for the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. "There was some kind of shelter and there were no disease outbreaks."

But people living in villages and camps on Sri Lanka's west coast said almost all of their aid has come from charities and relief workers. And they worry because volunteers such as Bruce Chen are facing reality.

"In a month, I'll be broke," said the chef from Telluride, Colo., "and I'll have to get back to work."

The prospect scares Akurala Gunananda Thero, monk and leader of Sri Sudeeraramaya Temple Village. It's why he made a simple plea to relief workers who came in March to build homes.

"Please stay."

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