Features
Going under armed escort as Chairman SLBC and Director of Broadcasting
On being told of my new assignment in the SLBC, I went home and dismissed the Prime Minister’s office car. Although I could have used it to go to the SLBC, technically I was no longer Secretary to the Prime Minister, and therefore, not really entitled to use it. I decided to drive my Morris Minor to go there. News travels very fast in this country. Even before I had got home there had been numerous telephone calls. Now, calls were coming in at the rate of one every three or four minutes.
Most of them were from my friends and colleagues and many of them expressed their sympathies and concerns at my going to the SLBC rather than congratulations. Till then I did not fully realize, the kind of public opinion that prevailed, in regard to the SLBC as a place of work. I made a mental note that this had to change.
One of the callers informed me that the important UNP Trade Union, the Jathika Sevaka Sangamaya (JSS) had gone to see the Prime Minister to protest at the appointment of someone who had closely worked with Mrs. Bandaranaike, to an important state media institution like the SLBC. I was very happy to hear this news and thought deliverance was at hand.
I now telephoned Mr. Menikdiwela, and told him about the information I had, and suggested that if this was true, it would be better for me to do something else. Mr. Menikdiwela laughed and said “Yes, some of them came to see us, but we told them that you were an outstanding public servant and not a politician and directed them to co-operate with you fully.”
There was no further recourse, and I was getting ready to go. But it was difficult to have lunch, because the phone was ringing constantly. In desperation my mother put some food on a plate and began feeding me. To her I was a 40-year-old child who had to be fed, in case he went away without eating.
Among these callers. was Admiral Basil Gunasekera, Commander of the Navy. The Navy was responsible for guarding the SLBC. He inquired whether it was true that I had been appointed to the SLBC. I said, “Yes.” He then inquired “When do you hope to go there?” I said, “Almost immediately.” He asked “Can’t you go there tomorrow?”
I told him, that it was impossible and that the Prime Minister wanted me to go there very early. I asked him what the problem was. He said that there were a large number of people there, some of them drunk. Then he said something very touching. “I can guarantee your safety, don’t worry about that. But I don’t want a single bastard to cast even a remark at you.” I thanked him most sincerely for his kindness and concern, and told him I would go and handle the situation and rang off.
However, Basil had not still finished. Within a few minutes he rang me again. “How are you going to the SLBC?” he asked. I told him that I would drive my private car. “Don’t'”, he said. “I will send you a vehicle.” I thanked him, but informed him that I had to leave almost immediately. “A car will be there in 15 minutes,” he said.
I was almost ready to leave when I heard the sound of a car stopping near our gate. I walked to the verandah and was surprised to see a smart Navy officer seated there, cradling a sub machine gun! On seeing me, he got up, smartly saluted, stated he was one of the ADCs to the Commander, and informed me that the Commander had ordered him to personally accompany me to the SLBC.
I was now getting worried. Sending a car was a kind thought and a convenience. Sending an armed escort was a different matter. In any case, there. was now no time for anything and I kept my thoughts to myself. The officer sat behind with me in the Navy car, and we proceeded to Independence Square and the SLBC.
As we came in sight ofthe building, the first thing I saw was a millingcrowd under the main portico. There groups of people scattered here and there in the driveway. The car turned in at the gate and was about to proceed towards the portico, when I ordered the driver to stop. There was too large a crowd under the portico for a car to get through easily, and I did not want an intrepid Navy driver to enforce a right of passage.
The car halted half way and I opened the door and was about to get down, when I saw, the officer reaching for his machine gun which he had kept on the floor of the car. “Drop it. Don’t take it out,” I said urgently. I said it so vehemently that with the corner of my eye I saw him drop it. I did not want to take up my appointment under armed guard. The next moment, I waded into the crowd.
At the SLBC and discussions with the government trade union
From somewhere, two hands appeared clasping a sheaf of betel. A little later, I saw that they belonged to Thevis Guruge, Deputy Director-General. He muttered some words of welcome. He told me that the Directors of the various divisions wanted to meet me, and also the Jathika Sevaka Sangamaya. He wanted to know whom I wanted to meet first. I said the trade union. It was clear that I had to come to terms with them first, otherwise administration would be impossible.
Thevis Guruge then led me to the boardroom. Very soon the room was packed to capacity and not even standing room was available. People were pressing to get in. The place was reeking of alcohol. I sat at the table with Thevis and some of the other directors of divisions, to whom I had been introduced. A spokesman for the trade union began to address me. It was not really an address but a harangue.
He spoke at length on the arbitrary and capricious actions of the previous regime in respect of the Corporation and its employees, particularly those known or suspected to be UNP employees. He went on to relate a long list of specific instances, including the names of those who had been interdicted, dismissed or transferred. He mentioned how the then Minister Mr. R.S. Perera had come in a procession after their election victory and taken numerous arbitrary actions.
When this spokesman ran out of steam, another took over, and then yet another. There was great excitement in the room. People were talking to each other, and interrupting the speakers to signify approval or to remind them of some forgotten point. I did not utter a word. I listened carefully although it was not easy to concentrate amidst the babble.
I realized that there was a great deal of pent up feeling, and that it was a good thing for it to come out. All this went on for over an hour. Then came the demands. They recited a list of persons under interdiction whom they wanted reinstated immediately. They said some of them were present in the room. The same demand extended to some of the dismissed as well as transferred employees, in whose case the demand was that they be put back in their original positions.
Then they became creative and wanted certain people placed in certain positions. All these were to be effected immediately. The room was smelling like a tavern. I continued to remain silent, but a silent fury was growing in me. Then suddenly they realized I had not spoken a word. There descended an awkward silence. I waited awhile. Silence continued to prevail, a silence which illustrated the saying “A loud silence.”
I then asked, “Have you finished? They said, “Yes”. I said, “I have listened to you patiently all this time without interruption and now, I do not wish to be interrupted until I have finished.” They nodded. I then said, “Over the last more than an hour, you had related to me, who you were, your experiences and finally your demands. Now, permit me to say something about who I am and how I function.
“I have entered the public service not through political patronage or any assistance from anybody. I entered the service through passing, what was commonly accepted as the most difficult competitive examination of the time, namely the open competitive examination for appointment to the Ceylon Civil Service. At this examination, in the. year I sat, only five were selected for appointment and I came second in order of merit. Over 300 sat this examination. Therefore, I am beholden to nobody either for my entry or my continuance in the public service.
“I am also not interested in any particular post, or where I serve. I go where the government of the day wants me to go. That is how I have come here. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t have come here. You will appreciate therefore, that I am not a politician. I am an administrator. The essence of administration is equity, fairness, openness, proper investigation and analysis before decisions, and decisions based on balanced judgment.
“Therefore, the demands you have made of me, no administrator can agree to. I am, however, prepared to go into each and every case, and if any injustice is revealed, correct it. But I am not prepared to work to any imposed deadline. There will not be undue delay either. Therefore, there is nothing I can do today. I need today to have discussions with the heads of divisions and others and get a grasp of things and ensure that there is no breakdown in services.
“But I see from your faces that you are unhappy with my reply. Therefore, I would now like to suggest a remedy. Go now in procession to the Prime Minister’s residence in Ward Place, and tell him that you cannot work with this devil.” The conversations being in Sinhala, this sounded much pithier in that language. This stunned them. They did not expect this kind of reply. They were struggling to cope.
Then they became more accommodating. They apologized and said that they didn’t mean to challenge my authority or hurt my feelings. Their vehemence, they said was a result of the injustices they had suffered. I reiterated that I would correct any injustice that had occurred. But to do all this I needed to get to work. I therefore told the Union members “remember you are members of a Union of a party which has over a five sixth majority in Parliament.
“As a result, you have an enormous responsibility to see that the power you have is used in such a manner as to enhance, and not to destroy the image of your party. I am therefore, now entrusting you with the responsibility of maintaining peace and good order here, as well as in all sub-stations and other facilities. I want you to show an example in how to treat your political opponents. I am entrusting you with the task of their protection.
“I want you to demonstrate that your membership consist of gentlemen and people of calibre, who would not even cast a remark at a political opponent. If you allege that the previous regime behaved badly, you now set the standard of behaviour. I will watch carefully to see what your standard is.” It was my judgment that the Union needed to be given a role and responsibility immediately. Their feelings of both elation and bitterness had to be channeled in a positive direction and their energies put to productive use.
I then asked all, other than the employees of the Corporation to go home. I told the union to ensure that any employee who was drunk or after liquor was sent home, and asked to report next day when he was sober. Things were now settling down, and the Union began to comply.
A matter of a personal secretary
I then began the meeting with the directors of the divisions. There was first a matter of my personal secretary to be settled. When the Deputy Director-General Thevis Guruge raised this issue, I said, “Any competent male would be fine.” He said that was not possible. All the personal secretaries were female. I then inquired, “How old is the oldest of them?” All began to laugh. Mr. Guruge informed me that the oldest was 54 years of age and very competent. I agreed at once. I said that since there was no one older, 54 years would be fine. There was more laughter.
The reason for this precaution was that the SLBC had a reputation fora number of romantic liaisons with secretaries, which had extended in the past to certain Chairmen and Directors-General. The organization also had the reputation outside, of some of its employees specializing in ringing up the homes of various officers and telling the wives that their husbands were carrying on with some attractive secretary. In some instances, this may have been true. But the talk outside was that this had reached pathological proportions.
In fact, my wife too was aware of this, so that in due course when she received a telephone call or two, she told the callers, that she had given me complete freedom to do as I please, and that anything I do, would not bother her in the least. Meeting this blank wall, the callers did not persist.
The organization also was talked of outside as a place where tale carrying was common. So I told the directors and the union representatives, that my door would always be open for anybody to come and tell me anything, but if anyone were to make a complaint against anyone else, or make an adverse comment about anyone, such a person would have to wait in my room until I summon the other party, and go into the matter in the presence of both.
I said that the only exception to this rule would be a security-related matter, which would be handled differently. I said finally, that I valued credibility very much and that it would be in everyone’s interest that they did not lose their credibility with me. Whilst this part of the discussion was going on, the Prime Minister, Mr. Jayewardene rang me. He inquired whether everything was all right. I said “Yes”. He then asked whether I had any problems. I said “None”.
He seemed to be somewhat surprised, and next asked, “How are the unions?” I said that they were very cooperative. I think, he hung up with a slight degree of bafflement. This call was followed almost 15 minutes later by a call from Mr. R. Premadasa, the No. 2 in the Cabinet. He asked me virtually the same questions, and received the same answers. He too seemed somewhat baffled, and wanted to know whether I required any assistance.
I replied that I needed no assistance whatsoever. He hung up and again called me about an hour later, to inquire how things were going. I replied “Smoothly,” and that was the end of any further calls from the high levels of government. When I reached home it was past midnight. By that time, peace and order had been restored, the premises cleared of excited and drunken people, the main program slots determined and early dates and times fixed for me to meet, the other trade unions in the Corporation such as the SLFP union and the Ceylon Mercantile Union (CMU).
Mr. D.B. Wijetunge was appointed Minister, and Sarath Amunugama Secretary. Mr. Wijetunge was an understanding and an affable personality, and it was easy to work with him. Mr. Amunugama, was a colleague of mine in the former Civil Service and was a member of the last batch of that service before it was wound up. He was a little over a year junior to me in the service, and I was a member of the previous batch. In fact, some of my friends asked me how I was going to work with a Secretary, who was junior to me.
I told them that this was no. problem. I never thought of my public service career in terms of hierarchies, posts or seniorities. I believed that I had entered the public service of my country and that as long as I remained in service, I had decided never to actively seek or canvass for any post. I had also made up my mind that I would serve in any post a government wanted me to serve in.
I departed from these principles only once in my near 37 years of unbroken service. That was much later, when I was offered the post of Secretary to the Ministry of Defence, on which I would comence at the appropriate place. In any case, Sarath and I had known each other both at the University and in the Service, and there were no serious problems in our working relationship.
(Excerpted from In the Pursuit of Governance, the autobiography of MDD Pieris)
Features
Addressing human rights needs multi-pronged approach
by Jehan Perera
The ongoing 63rd session of the United Nations Human Rights Council, which runs from September 7 to October 7, 2026, in Geneva is important to Sri Lanka. Its outcome will send a signal to other international actors, including the European Union, as to whether Sri Lanka’s reform policy is on track. The written update on Sri Lanka, prepared by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights under High Commissioner Volker Türk and presented by Deputy High Commissioner Nada Al-Nashif, has taken a more holistic approach to the government’s performance over the past year. It acknowledged the progress Sri Lanka has made under the NPP government in relation to accountability for financial fraud and other economic crimes. At the same time, the High Commissioner’s update made clear that progress in relation to economic crime cannot be equated with progress in relation to accountability for grave human rights violations committed during the armed conflict and in other periods of political violence.
The government may have felt sufficiently confident that its response to the High Commissioner’s update could be handled by its representative in Geneva and did not require the attendance of Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath. Sri Lanka’s representative Sumith Dassanayake called for a fundamental review of country-specific mandates within the UN Human Rights Council. Sri Lanka has been facing repeated scrutiny in the form of successive UNHRC resolutions from 2012 onwards. Ambassador Dassanayake argued that such mandates should not continue indefinitely and must be regularly assessed against measurable objectives and tangible outcomes. This may reflect confidence that its record of reform is beginning to receive recognition internationally. The reports and statements at the Human Rights Council acknowledged progress in the government’s efforts to address corruption and economic crime.
The government’s anti-corruption drive has included investigations into allegations involving individuals who held the highest political offices in the country. The arrest of former President Ranil Wickremesinghe in connection with alleged misuse of public funds, and the investigation into the controversial SriLankan Airlines Airbus transaction involving former President Mahinda Rajapaksa’s son, are examples of the reach of these investigations. The arrest of SLPP National Organiser and Member of Parliament Namal Rajapaksa in connection with allegations relating to the Airbus purchase scandal has also demonstrated that the government is willing to pursue cases involving politically powerful figures.
Wide Range
The ongoing investigations appear to encompass a wide range of parliamentarians and government members, both past and present. They suggest that accountability for corruption is not being confined to lower-level officials or to individuals who lack political influence. This is precisely the kind of accountability that the public has long demanded and that previous governments have too often failed to deliver. The government is also reaching into the upper levels of the military hierarchies of the past. The case in which 11 young men, most of them Tamil, disappeared after being abducted in Colombo between 2008 and 2009 involved allegations that some families were asked to pay ransoms. The investigation into this case has reached senior military figures. The willingness to pursue such cases is important because it challenges the assumption that those who exercised power during the war are beyond the reach of the law. Such cases would provide a practical test of whether the government’s commitment to accountability for economic crimes is part of a broader commitment to the rule of law.
Success in prosecuting corruption cannot substitute for justice for those who were unlawfully killed, disappeared, tortured or otherwise victimised. The UN report noted that there had been no recognition or accountability for crimes under international law, gross human rights violations and serious violations of international humanitarian law committed by all parties during the war. The government has yet to establish a credible and effective process to address the many cases of enforced disappearance, extrajudicial killing, torture and other serious violations. The government needs to take the international commitments it has inherited on human rights issues seriously. It needs to adopt a multi-pronged approach and go beyond focusing primarily on financial and corruption-related accountability.
Need Action
As a member of the international community, Sri Lanka has a responsibility to abide by the commitments it has made. It cannot selectively uphold international obligations postponing those that are politically difficult. Also, as a small country, Sri Lanka has a self-interest in ensuring the survival of international law, which is all that it has to protect it from the depredations of the bigger international actors. The erosion of international law by powerful states makes it all the more important that smaller states uphold the principles on which the international system is based. Sri Lanka cannot credibly appeal to international law when it is threatened from outside while disregarding its own obligations within. Sri Lanka also needs to win the confidence of its own population that it is committed to justice and equality for all. Public opinion polls and community-level research have disclosed that ethnic and religious minorities are appreciative of the sense of greater security they enjoy under the present government from ethnic or religious extremists.
But a sense of security is not the same as the fulfilment of rights. As far as the Tamil people are concerned, the government has yet to deliver on several of its specific promises. These include the long-standing problems of missing persons, the release of political prisoners who have been members of Tamil militant organisations, and the return of land taken over for military purposes during the war. The issue of Buddhist statues and archaeological sites found on their properties which are then taken from their control continue to trouble them especially as they see no signs of resolution of those disputes. The issue of pastureland in the east of the country in Mylathamadu is particularly concerning to them as they see orders by successive presidents, both President Ranil Wickremesinghe and President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, being disregarded on the ground. The Mylathamadu pastureland dispute is where traditional Tamil dairy farmers have engaged in multi-year protests against the ongoing encroachment of their ancestral grazing lands by Sinhalese crop cultivators relocated under government development schemes.
The government’s failure to hold Provincial Council elections is particularly troubling. The provincial council system is the only one that can provide the Tamil people and other ethnic minorities the opportunity to wield political power and exercise a measure of self-determination in the areas in which they are the numerical majority. The continued postponement of Provincial Council elections therefore has consequences that go beyond an ordinary electoral delay. It deprives communities of an important constitutional avenue for democratic participation and power-sharing. The ethnic and religious minorities appreciate what the government is doing in the larger national interest, but they must not be made to feel that their special concerns are being ignored. The government cannot resolve Sri Lanka’s entire legacy of rights violations overnight. But it does need to demonstrate that it is willing to move forward on multiple fronts, not only on a few.
Features
The emptying university: why are academics leaving?
by Hasini Lecamwasam
Brain drain in Sri Lanka is at an all-time high. The latest Human Flight and Brain Drain Index for 2024 shows that we are 16th of 175 countries on this count, and first in South Asia. That this is a crisis goes without saying. Brain drain affects all sectors, and is a huge strain on the resources of a developing country. Particularly in Sri Lanka, where considerable public investment is made in the moulding of professionals through the system of free education, this amounts to transferring the resources of poorer countries to richer ones with top migration destinations. It is, therefore, important to consider the push and pull factors behind skilled outmigration, specifically from the public university system of Sri Lanka, a key focus of the Kuppi column.
From frustration to exit
Several bitter realities in our crumbling public university system act as push factors in the migration decisions of academics. Many essays on this column have, over several years, attempted to highlight numerous aspects of this erosion. Perhaps, primary among them is the lack of adequate funding, which has debilitating ramifications for the system: very little investment is made in the up-keep of infrastructure (and even less in its expansion), resulting in serious constraints in accommodating growing batches of students and the wellbeing of the staff (particularly in regional universities); research funding is negligible, severely curtailing academics’ ability to effectively discharge their primary duty of teaching which should ideally be informed by their research (and the research of others, access to which is also, unfortunately, mediated by funding); a funding crunch also means a slash in (or greater constraints on) recruitments, increasing the workloads of academics, currently in service, and eating into the quality of their teaching and research.
What recruitments are done frustrate those with any faith in merit. As many of our interventions in this column have shown, recruitment processes are characterised by archaic selection criteria that place very little weight on a candidate’s postgraduate growth and the advantages of interdisciplinary training. Added to this is the general preference for ‘culturally compliant’ candidates who would not rock the boat too much. The combined effect is that those with the capacity and spirit to try out innovations in education are discouraged from joining or staying on in the public university system. Some, or many, of them may instead seek appointments abroad.
A thread that binds all of these problems together is pervasive hierarchy which, again, many interventions on this column have sought to highlight. It is the interest in preserving hierarchy that leads to the preference for alumni in recruitment processes. Hierarchy within universities can be particularly frustrating for younger faculty and women, who typically have to bear the brunt of the workload of their senior, often male, colleagues. In a context of funding, and, therefore, recruitment, restrictions, this translates into a disproportionate burden being placed on junior (usually female) faculty, seriously hindering their prospects of growing into successful academics due to the time constraints within which they have to operate. Junior academics, therefore, are more likely to look to educational institutions abroad for what they hope would be a different work culture that respects them more.
Ideological ruses
On top of these structural frustrations are also the workings of neoliberal ideology. For one, the nature of relations between the global metropole and peripheral countries like Sri Lanka largely dictates what is desirable and what is not. The apparent lifestyles of Western countries – from food to clothing, housing, appliances, and so on – have continued to lure people from the periphery with the promise of a ‘better’ life, alongside better career advancement opportunities. This, of course, masks much of the struggle that goes on behind the scenes to survive in Western societies. For instance, in most cases highly attractive public infrastructure such as roads, public transport, clean air, quality control of food, and so on belie the astronomical privatised costs of healthcare and education. Health insurance is usually mandatory and steep in most high-income settings, while even subsidised education (for which eligibility criteria are strict) creates a serious dent in household earnings. Of course, the happy images of glossy trams and gleeful international travellers don’t convey this.
A second ideological ruse is the myth of greater opportunities and recognition abroad. While there is no denying that local skilled sectors – be it higher education, health, civil service, or private white-collar positions – are replete with issues that inhibit merit-based professional advancement, the notion that things are fundamentally different in Western countries stems from an uninformed optimism. As is now increasingly known and discussed, Western labour markets are notoriously racialised, and equivalent skills are rarely treated as such. Instead, it is usually demanded that skilled migrants clear certain formal examinations in their host countries. In fields like medicine, this is followed by an interview that may also be racially prejudiced. Once these initial steps are cleared, remuneration reverts to square one irrespective of experience accumulated abroad, not to mention the many subtle aggressions, rejections, and trials one has to go through in the negotiation of everyday life. In the many cases where professional qualifications are used as leverage for a move abroad, sights are set on a better future for one’s children, which again is informed by the misplaced faith in greater opportunities and a lack of awareness of the factors outlined above. Needless to say, in the global swing to the Right, things have become even more challenging. In such a context, considering the few rare cases where skilled migrants live extremely comfortable lives as the norm becomes a dangerous misconception.
The two ideological pull factors mentioned above are complemented by a push factor, which has to do with a highly classed understanding of what a white-collar professional is due in their society. Many of these aspirations are clearly articulated in academic trade union action demanding separate quotas for school entry, increased fuel allowances, winning back the presently stalled vehicle permit scheme, salary hikes, and so on. While working people have every right to agitate for better material conditions, insofar as it remains unconnected to a broader movement for improving the conditions of the lot of the working class, it remains self-serving and very much within the class logic of capitalist society. Since these demands are articulated as a means of maintaining distinction, it is clear that they are not envisaged as part of a class movement. The frustration of not having these needs for distinction satisfied may push some to seek greener pastures abroad, at least financially, (perhaps as a means of social mobility based on it), only to be disappointed on most occasions.
What is to be done?
Addressing the systemic push factors listed above requires, first and foremost, greater allocations for free public higher education. This would immediately translate into more recruitments and less work per academic, and better research and teaching in the long haul. An increase in funding would also ideally lead to greater infrastructural investments, especially including improving the living conditions of those who work in regional universities amid untold hardships. Next, fairer, more creative, and, therefore, more effective recruitment policies are badly needed to attract talented individuals to university positions. Rather than carving out a ‘special category’ for academics to achieve this purpose, which is informed by a classed logic, this needs to be done through fundamental reforms in recruitment processes. Third, a persistent attack on the entrenched hierarchy within universities through internal reform is much called for. Reforming recruitment practices will go a long way towards addressing this. Measures should also be taken to introduce more stringent policies against SGBV (not to mention ragging, even though it is not directly connected to brain drain). Such measures would create a safer, fairer, and more attractive workplace, which would give more reasons for people to stay.
On top of greater allocations, we also need a transformation of our aspirations themselves if this situation is to change. That necessitates a kind of education capable of questioning the ‘paradise’ conception of Western societies, and lays bare their colonial material and ideological dimensions, in both their historical and contemporary manifestations. These colonial understandings of the ‘good life’, moreover, have devastating ecological implications for the planet, not to mention social justice. An education with the ability to transform this mindset would hopefully prove to be more than a mere path to social mobility, rather being a tool of social emancipation that renders mobility moot.
(Hasini Lecamwasam is with the Department of Political Science, University of Peradeniya)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
Features
Friends favourite Suzi Croner returns for Oktoberfest 2026
Charming audiences in Switzerland as Suzi Flückiger, Sri Lanka’s own Suzi Croner is coming home… for a very special occasion.
The bubbly former frontline vocalist of 90s band Friends will take the stage at a popular venue in Colombo for Oktoberfest 2026.
Known in Europe for her country and classic hits, Suzi has remained a much-loved name back home. This will be a rare chance for local fans to see her live and celebrate the voice behind so many Friends memories.
Oktoberfest 2026 in Colombo promises an evening of live music, traditional Bavarian food and beer, colourful dirndls and lederhosen, folk dancing, and plenty of community cheer.

Suzi Croner (Flückiger)
Against this lively backdrop, Suzi will take the stage for a special solo set, featuring her own pre-recorded music. She performed at the event last year too, as a solo artiste, but a German band providing the music.
This year, however she says, it’s a different scene.
“The novel attraction will be the dancers from Germany — all girls, clad in German outfits,” Suzi said. She added that the event will also highlight the activities generally connected with Oktoberfest, which should generate a lot of fun and excitement for those who join her in Colombo next month.
Suzi has become a much-in-demand artiste in Europe, and has even performed Down Under, in Melbourne.
In Switzerland, where she has been based for the past 42 years, she continues to charm audiences with country and classic hits, performing at private events and community nights across Europe.
“My weekends are generally loaded with my work as a singer,” she said. “And I also play tennis three times a week, because I need to keep fit to entertain my audience in an active way.”
Her repertoire is made up mainly of Swiss, German and English songs.
And true to form, Suzi loves springing surprises.
“So watch out when you join me at Oktoberfest 2026, in Colombo!” she said.
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