Connect with us

Features

Papal Elephant in Rome was from Ceylon

Published

on

The first Mass of the young priest F.Marcus. Fernando (extreme right) at the Good Shepherd Convent Rome. Also in the picture Fr. Joachimpillai, Fr Santhiapillai, Mr N.Balsubramiam, who later became Ambassador in Singapore and the Chancellor of the Embassy Mr Nadarajah. (23d December 1956). Fr F. Marcus Fernando became Bishop of Chilaw in 1972. Amassador and Mrs. Hulugalle and their daughter are in the middle of the photo.

Gift from Portuguese king to the pope

(Excerpted from Selected Journalism
by HAJ Hulugalle)

We have heard of a Papal Bull. But a Papal Elephant’? What could that be? The Papal elephant about which I have some information, was without doubt a native of Ceylon; probably the first Ceylon or Indian elephant to arrive in Rome.

I lived for over five years not 200 yards from the Rome zoo. There are two elephants there, an Indian and an African in their respective pens, side by side. Next to the African elephant lives a rhinoceros almost as large as an elephant, separated by a metal fence. What always interested me about these animals was that the African elephant and the rhino would often be seen close to each other, as if they were exchanging confidences across the partition, whereas the two elephants, it seemed, were scarcely on speaking terms.

African elephants are, no doubt, more at home on European soil. Only a narrow stretch of the Mediterranean separates part of Italy from Africa, and they are entitled to feel a little superior. Hannibal took elephants from Carthage (Tunis) for his wars against the Romans, and crossed the Alps with them. African elephants performed in Roman circuses (panem et circenses).

The Roman sophist, Aelianus Claudius, who wrote treatises on animals in 17 books, says that Germanicus, nephew of the Emperor Tiberius, exhibited once a public show where there were many full-grown elephants, male and female. In those days it would not have been possible to take Ceylon or Indian elephants to Europe. Solomon’s ships came to India or Ceylon once in every three years, and took “gold and silver, ivory, apes and peacocks; but not elephants.

Many mediaeval scientists were busy working on the problems of navigation when Vasco da Gama crowned the hopes of a century by sailing from Lisbon to Calicut. After that, taking small elephants to Europe did not present insuperable problems.

When the first Portuguese arrived, the Sinhalese king at Kotte was informed by his agents that “there is in our harbour of Colombo a race of people, fair of skin and comely withal. They don jackets and hats of iron; rest not a moment in one place but walk here and there.” The Portuguese envoys summoned by the king were taken by a devious route. De Barros, the Portuguese historian who died in 1570, says that they “were conducted through such dense thickets that they could scarcely see the sun, taking so many turns that it seemed to them more like a labyrinth than a direct road to any place.”

It is an interesting fact that this statement is confirmed by the Sinhalese proverb ‘Parangia Kottetagiya Vage’ – like the Portuguese going to Kotte – used in connection with a long and circuitous path.

A letter in the Vatican archives describes the scene in the court of the Sinhalese king when the Portuguese ambassador Payo de Souza was received. The letter is from Manuel I of Portugal to Pope Julius 11. During Manuel’s reign of twenty five years, Portugal reached its highest pitch of prosperity. Julius H, a member of the delta Rovere family, was the masterful Pontiff who began building the new St. Peter’s, and who bullied Michaelangelo to produce masterpieces.

The king’s letter to the Pope which is dated the 25th September 1507, announces with enthusiasm the discovery of Ceylon. We know from the diary of the Venetian ambassador Marino Sanuto, that the Pope read the letter in consistory. He notes that the letter states that the Portuguese envoys “had spoken with the king who had on his head a crown of the most beautiful gems and, although it was day, there were hidden candles, so that the gems might be seen shining.” It seems to have been a practice of the Sinhalese kings to receive foreign envoys by candle light.

There were celebrations in Rome of the great event. After a solemn procession on St. Thomas’ day, Father Egidio de Viterbo prelate-general of the Augustine order delivered a lengthy oration, entirely in praise of Pope Julius to whom he ascribed not a little of the glory of the discovery of Ceylon.

Where does our elephant come into all this?

According to the Portuguese historian Correa, the Sinhalese king agreed to pay a yearly tribute of a shipload of cinnamon and two elephants to the king of Portugal for protecting the ports of Ceylon. The first installment was in fact paid before the ambassador left for Lisbon. The two small Ceylon elephants were part of the cargo of the first fleet which left Colombo for Lisbon.

Pope Julius II died in 1513 and was succeeded by Leo X, son of Lorenzo the Magnificent of the illustrious house of Medici of Florence. Manuel I was still king of Portugal and as by duty bound he sent an envoy to the new Pope to speak about the Portuguese possessions in the East, among which Ceylon ranked high.

The Pope’s interest was aroused. He was told about the countries, their inhabitants, manner of life, mode of dress and other details, and of the kings of the East who had presented Manuel with handsome specimens of rare birds and beasts. The envoy added that he had been commanded by the king of Portugal humbly to enquire of the Pope, whether His Holiness would deign to accept as a token of the king’s filial devotion to the Pontiff’s person, and also to the Apostolic See, the gift of an elephant.

An ordinary person would have thought long before saying yes. There was hardly a Roman at the time who had any notion of what an elephant looked like. How would he know about the habits of the beast? Where would an elephant sleep? What would he eat? What would the neighbours say?

The Pope had no such problem. He wished to know more about the beast that was offered to him and did not conceal his willingness to accept the offer. The elephant, he was told, was perfectly domesticated. He had lived for seven years in Lisbon and was in good health. His name was Annone. He could perform gracefully many an elegant measure to the rhythm of gong and drum. The Pope concluded that Annone would be a great success in Rome. His like had not been seen on the banks of the Tiber since the days of the Roman Empire.

When at length Annone arrived in Rome, there was a great commotion. He was led up the Borgo towards the Vatican adorned with a rich caparison nearing the embroidered crests of the Pope and king Manuel. It is said that, when the elephant made his obeisance to the Pope on both knees and with his great head bowed low to the ground, there was a loud cheer from the multitude.

One of those who would have been present among the crowd was the Florentine painter Raphael. He was working for the Pope, decorating the rooms of the Vatican palace and advising on the building of St. Peter’s. The elephant in the murals of the Loggia of the palace was none other than a portrait of Annone.

There were of course some people who did not approve of the exotic pachyderm wandering about the courtyards of the Vatican. The men whose duty it was to carry the Pope in his chair, the Sedia Gestatoria, for example, looked upon the elephant as a potential usurper. But Annone conducted himself well. He was everybody’s pet and the epithets generally used were Caro, bello, simpatico.

The only snag was that admirers kept on feeding him all the time. He developed stomach trouble and one day he lay down and died. He had lived in the odour of sanctity for only three years. Annone was buried by the great tower – which no longer exists – near the Bronze Gate to the Vatican. Raphael was said to have written an epitaph, but this has not been found.

Among the many admirers of Annone was Cardinal Giuliano Medici, cousin of the Pope and later a Pope himself with the title of Clement VII. He was at the time completing the beautiful Villa Madama, the present official residence of the Prime Minister of Italy, now used mainly for conferences and entertaining. The Cardinal had seen the elephant squirt water from his trunk, and it occurred to him that he would be a good model for a fountain in the grounds of the villa. He ordered the sculptor, Giovanni da Udine to make an effigy of Annone for the fountain.

During the sack of Rome the fountain was destroyed but the head and curly trunk of the effigy remained. Of the two Popes Annone knew, Leo X was a great Pontiff. Clement VII was, to put

this mildly, unlucky. The Church in England broke away during his reign, and Clement was more than once a prisoner in Castel Angelo when the hordes of the Emperor Charles V descended on Rome.

I have endeavoured to prove that Annone was a native of Ceylon. The information about his life in Rome is given by my friend Mr. James Utley who has been for over 50 years a member of the British mission to the Vatican. Some may be tempted to make a film of Annone. I think there is enough material for a good script.

(First published in 1961)



Continue Reading
Advertisement
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Features

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

Published

on

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

Continue Reading

Features

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

Published

on

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.

Continue Reading

Features

‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’

Published

on

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.

Continue Reading

Trending