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Recalling the glorious Caribbean

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Excerpted from Memories that linger: My journey through the world of disability
by Padmani Mendis

I have visited the islands of the Caribbean on many occasions primarily to introduce Community Based Rehabilitation (CBR) and for field evaluations carried out in St. Lucia and Jamaica. On other occasions, to introduce the concept and the strategy to decision makers – as in Barbados, Grenada and the Bahamas. These islands in the Caribbean were perhaps best known to us in Sri Lanka as the West Indies. The song sung by Harry Belafonte had of course made one of them, namely Jamaica, known the world over as his “Island In The Sun“.

The West Indies, one might say, was like India, a creation of the British as an approach in granting independence. In India, the British brought together princely states to form one country and in spite of the vastness, succeeded. But with these small islands, the same tactic failed. Within a few years each of the 10 countries that formed the federation became independent. The name West Indies however stuck and the countries share some things in common – like their cricket team. This has not changed, and we still know them best for their skills in the game of cricket as well as for their enjoyment of the game.

They had perhaps, inherited their interest in cricket through their link with the British, having been conquered by those colonials and then, like us, been part of the great British Empire. I cannot say however that the skill and the enjoyment of the game of cricket were inherited from the British.

The skill looks inborn and the enjoyment inherent. Both were of a singularly and uniquely Caribbean nature. No international player can match the cricket played by Walcott, Weekes and Worrell, or more recently by Brian Lara at the wicket. No bowler has yet come on par with “those two little pals of mine, Ramadhin and Valentine”.

I first went to the West Indies with this cricket calypso ringing in my years:

Cricket luvverly Cricket,
At Lord’s where I saw it;
Yardley tried his best,
But Godard won the test,
With those two little pals of mine,
Ramadhin and Valentine

.‘Lord Beginner’ 1950

The people of the West Indies had their own style of music and of dance. And they broke into song and dance at the slightest provocation, as it were. Both descending no doubt from their mixed African and Spanish heritage.

For the people of the Caribbean were of an exceptionally mixed race. I saw this at once when I first met them. Their skin was of all hues of brown, black and white – and sometimes the white face even had that pink tint in it. Their hair similarly ranged from being frizzled to straight and all waves of in between. But one feature I missed – I never saw any native blondes, or red heads for that matter. They varied in body-build from the African to the Caucasian.

I recall the first time I walked into a bank in Barbados. It was new and spotlessly clean. With a distinct air of discipline about it. The radio was on and it was playing – calypso music of course. And to that infectious rhythm, the staff all dressed alike in light and dark shades of blue, each in their seats and focused on their work, were moving smoothly to the rhythm of it. It mattered not whether it was unconsciously or subconsciously. It was just such a delightful scene.

Jamaica

On my first visit to Jamaica I was surprised to meet an old friend, Marjorie Forrester, Director of the School of Physiotherapy.

I was happy to meet Marjorie on this first brief visit to Jamaica. She and I had come to know each other in London. We had followed together the Two-year Diploma Course in the Teaching of Physiotherapy some 20 years earlier. While I was at Guy’s Hospital in London, she was in Nottingham. But we met during our four semesters at the Polytechnic of North London and had become friends. Even on this visit, she invited me to her home so I could meet her husband Huntley. He was a very active leader in the Disability Movement in the Caribbean, and one who was full of fun with many jokes he shared generously.

I was a frequent visitor to their home on subsequent visits to Jamaica. In her home Marjorie arranged for me to meet many friends of Huntley’s, all with experience of disability. So we enjoyed healthy discussion and debate. And they needed some persuasion to accept CBR. But persuaded they were.

But one evening at Marjorie’s turned out to be rather embarrassing. Marjorie wanted me to meet someone who was doing some work also in disability and also as a Consultant for the WHO. She was from Canada. She specialised in sexual concerns in people who had paraplegia and other such paralyses.

She was very much against the idea of CBR which she believed to be giving a very poor quality of rehabilitation to poor people in poor countries. She challenged me with this her belief. And I was foolish enough to take her on. An unnecessarily heated argument ensued for which I later apologised profusely to Marjorie and Huntley. But what was done was done. Defending CBR was not new to me. But getting so worked up about it was. I knew I should have had better control of myself.

But worse was to come, as Marjorie informed me later. Marjorie had driven her to the airport the next day. On the way she wanted Marjorie to stop at the General Hospital in Kingston. There she went to the Physiotherapy Department, called all the therapists together and asked them to look out. She warned them that Padmani Mendis had come with some low-quality care and they would all soon be out of a job.

As I said earlier, criticisms by specialised professionals was not new. I did face this occasionally. I was happy when soon, as a profession, they would accept CBR when their global professional body, the World Confederation of Physical Therapy, stopped resisting, and finally did recognise it.

Where to Stay in Lucea, Jamaica

After introducing the project in St. Lucia, I realised that CBR development in so many islands of the West Indies would need guidance and support from someone like me for quite some time. I suggested to Dr. Hindley-Smith and Dr. Harold Drayton that it may be prudent to find me a counterpart from within the region rather than get me down each time from far away Sri Lanka. It should be a professional who could work with me when I went next to Jamaica. She or he should have the capacity to continue the tasks that I was presently doing.

So when I went to Jamaica the second time, I was joined by Geraldine Maison, later Maison-Halls. She was a physiotherapist and one with a charming personality. We got on famously with each other and were of immense mutual help. Geraldine thereafter did work in CBR for many years, both as a staff member of WHO, Geneva and in her own country, Guyana.

When we went to Lucea in Jamaica the question was where we would stay. We could have found a home prepared to keep us as paying guests in this small town. But no, someone from the health centre had a better suggestion, “How about Miss Katie?” We were told that Miss Katie was an elderly Jamaican who lived on her sugar plantation. A message was sent to Miss Katie to ask if she would have us. Geraldine and I moved in with Miss Katie that evening.

Miss Katie’s sugar plantation was not an active one. It was not profitable to grow sugar any more, she told us later. The sugar land was overgrown and was taken over by masses of grass. The uneven dirt roadway was just about clear enough for us to drive through. Then suddenly we came upon this caricature-like two-storied wooden house, appearing to be almost as if it were crumbling from age. And in this we found Miss Katie – a warm, generous and motherly “old lady”.

I had to use those words “old lady”. The word “elderly” was too cold to describe Miss Katie’s warmth – a warmth that oozed through her every pore. And her majesty. This small-made lady on the verge of bending in two – majesty, no other word but that.

And so Geraldine and I had a wonderful stay in Lucea. It was a 20-mile drive each way from our work but what was that? I will tell you more about it soon. Miss Katie had not known any guests for quite some time. She derived so much pleasure from just fussing over us and feeding us. In her garden Miss Katie had a chillie plant bearing green chillies that soon turned red. Every evening by my dinner plate I would find on a little silver tray one of her precious home-grown chillies. She knew that coming from Sri Lanka I appreciated that added taste in my food.

A car to drive

When I was at the WHO office on my first day in Kingston, a logistical problem that was difficult to solve was my transport. It was clear that the WHO had to provide me with a chauffeur-driven vehicle to take me to Lucea and back, a distance of over 200 miles taking over four hours of driving. And the chauffeur had to stay on to drive me around Lucea too. I waived immediately the requirement of a chauffeur. I could drive myself. But I did require a car.

Listening in to the discussion was a professional from Denmark employed on a WHO project in Jamaica. He had just been given for his use a new Toyota saloon purchased by his project. We had conversed previously and I had told him about my experience working as a physiotherapist in Denmark and how much I had enjoyed it. With that, we had accepted each other. We would not meet again because he was going away the next day and was not expected back for two months.

After much discussion and even then with a great deal of reluctance, the young man from Denmark had no choice but to offer me the use of his brand-new vehicle for the duration of my stay. But he laid down a condition. The vehicle could only be driven by me. I had to make a solemn promise that I would not let anyone else drive this precious thing. It was an easy promise to make, because I could not see any reason to have to break it.

So in this little beauty, Geraldine and I drove between Kingston and Lucea when we had to. And 20 miles there and back from Miss Katie daily. The 20-mile stretch was a winding beach road. The beach was made of a continuity of little coves and the scenery from the road was too beautiful to describe in words. Although we had beautiful beaches back in my own country all round our coastline, these were different.

These coves made the coastline small and intimate. Ours was a smooth coastline with wide, sandy beaches. Geraldine and I kept our sea-bathing attire in the car. And every evening after work we would stop by a different cove and stay in its calm sea until dusk had almost fallen. Then home to Miss Katie. This was indeed the life.

Problems with the Car

Our peaceful life was disturbed by two incidents with the car. One day while we were travelling along a narrow stretch of road, I came too close to another car. The wing mirror on Geraldine’s side was smashed to pieces. My thoughts flew to my Danish colleague. What had I done to his new car? What could I do now? Miss Katie had the answer. She had friends in Kingston. We went down there as soon as we could. Helped by Miss Katie’s contacts the car agency got down a wing-mirror for me from a neighbouring island. I had it fitted. Everything was now as good as new.

I faced the second incident when Dr. Hindley-Smith came to spend a few days with us to see how the work was progressing in Jamaica. One evening after we had come back to Miss Katie’s, he said to me, “Padmani, could you give me the keys of the car? I think I will go down to the beach for a dip”. Oh my goodness, what could I say. He was the boss. He was The WHO. How could I not give him the keys?

So I replied in as friendly a manner as I could, “It’s alright Dr. Hindley-Smith, let me drive you down”. And this offer and its rejection went on to and fro for so long that one of us had to put a stop to it. And since that had to be me, I had to tell him of the promise I had made to that hulk of a Viking. The Englishman went not just a darker shade of pink, but quite red with anger. But that was that. I was never asked for the keys again. Promises, promises.



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Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka

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World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future

by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?

These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.

World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.

We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.

Making more of what we already have

Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.

Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.

The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.

Stop wasting the food we produce

Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.

Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.

Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.

Nutrition and food safety come first

Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.

Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.

Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.

A food system that can cope with climate change

Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.

Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.

Give young people a bigger role

Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.

A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.

A pathway designed for Sri Lanka

We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.

The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.

The choices we make today

The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.

So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?

The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.

A better food future begins with the choices we make today.

Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna

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20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried

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Aftermath of the terror attack

By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan

The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.

It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.

By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.

I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.

When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.

The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.

The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.

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‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’

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Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24

I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.

The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.

The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.

After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.

Clark

The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.

Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.

Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.

He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.

Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.

Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.

Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.

Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.

So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.

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