Features
NM: THE LOVABLE MARXIST
by ECB Wijeyesinghe
When Selina Peeris, the Badulla heiress hitched her wagon to a rising young politician bred in the London School of Economics, little did she think that marriage would one day make her a Marxist.
But the example of her handsome suitor was irresistible, and both of them plunged into the stream of radical thought with zest, most of the time swimming against the current.
Dr.N.M. Perera who, in death, looks even more distinguished than when he was alive, was in many respects, a most lovable character. The magnetism of his personality attracted some of the best brains to the country to the Lanka Sama Samaja fold. At the time that Karl Marx appeared on the horizon many years ago, with a plan to make the poor rich and the rich poor – in other words to reduce the yawning abyss between the capitalists and the proletariat – there were hundreds of young men ready to follow him.

Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin he engaged the attention of those who were eager to see what was on the other side of the river that separated the haves from the have-nots. One of the most enthusiastic followers of Marx was Lenin. Although Lenin was a Russian and Marx was a German they felt they were brothers under the skin.
TUG-OF-WAR
Lenin was the founding father of the Soviet Union and he made the Communist Party the only legal party in Russia, probably to avoid confusion at the polls. After Lenin’s death there was a tug-of-war for power. Stalin was at one end of the rope with distant disciples like Pieter Keuneman. Trotsky was at the other end.
About this time, Dr. N.M.Perera and a blue-eyed band of young men donning red shirts, met at Lorenz College, then under the control of J.D.P. Perera, a brother of the famous artist J.D.A. Perera. They were Marxists, and for better or worse, they threw in their lot with Trotsky who, incidentally, escaped Stalin’s purge and fled the country. Instead of dying violently in Moscow, Trotsky met with an untimely death in Mexico.
ONLY 40
When the LSSP was born 44 years ago in the Maradana school which, for some time, nurtured Prime Minister Premadasa before he went to St. Joseph’s College, there was a membership of only 40. These forty gallant young men then set out one December evening with the single thought of ending the sorry scheme of social injustice which had gone on for ages.
They started off by lending their support to the Surya Mal Movement whipped up by the irrepressible Terence de Zylva, whose boundless enthusiasm got him into trouble with the British rulers. But it was the malaria epidemic of the thirties which provided the LSSP with their baptism of fire. The Sama Samajists, who then included Dr.S.A. Wickremasinghe, worked like Trojans in Ruanwella, which promptly showed its gratitude.
During the General Election of 1936 when, for the first time, the LSSP entered the field of national politics, the village belles of Ruwanwella, almost to a man cast their votes for the Prince Charming who had come to their rescue in their hour of distress. To say that Dr. N.M. Perera had sex-appeal may be a trite tribute to his personal qualities. When Selina Peeris appeared on the stage for the first time, long, long ago, at the Royal College, one of the most interested members of the audience was Dr. N.M. Perera.
The play was entitled “The King’s Wife,” a high-powered drama in blank verse, written by Dr. James H. Cousins, the Professor of English at the Madras University. Selina was cast in the role of Queen Mira, the chaste wife of the not so virtuous King Kumbha, played by me. The plot centred round the Queebedience to her marriage vows, her ill-founded and a rival monarch’s infatuation.
Queen Mira was, according to the historical narrative, a sweet sensitive, unspoiled and intelligent woman. Those were qualities the heroine possessed in real life and Selina was built for the part. As the final curtain came down she received a great ovation and the first person to appear in the green room and offer the heroine his congratulations was Dr. N.M. Perera, who then looked like a film star himself. In brief, it was another case of “Veni, Vidi, Vici.”
IN JAIL
Another thrilling moment in the life of the Sama Samajist leader was during the height of World War 11, when he with his colleagues Dr. Colvin R.de Silva, Philip Gunawardena and Edmund Samarakkody were thrust into the filthiest cell in Kandy’s Bogambara Jail. Unlike the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse who were sent out on a mission to conquer the world, the principal worry of the four LSSP heroes was to find ways and means to conquer the squalor that surrounded them.
There is a story, probably apocryphal, that when they were discussing the legality of their incarceration, one of their number, I am told it was Dr. Colvin R.de Silva – who thought of Oscar Wilde’s words:
I know not whether Laws be right Or whether Laws be wrong; All that we know who lie in jail Is that the wall is strong; And that each day is like a year, A year whose days are long.
That set up a chain reaction and Edmund Samarakkody followed up Colvin’s quotation with another verse from the Ballad of Reading Gaol which runs thus :
The vilest deeds, like poison weeds, Bloom well in prison air:
It is only what is good in Man That wastes and withers there; Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate, And the Warder is Despair.
But the warder in the Kandy jail was a God-fearing Burgher who thought the wrath of the heavens would be visited on him if he allowed this torture to continue.
ESCAPE
So, one night in April 1942, while the Japanese were hitting the British Navy for a six in Singapore, and it was almost certain that all the anti-Imperialist elements, including the LSSP quartet would be placed against a wall and liquidated, the kindly jailer had an attack of amnesia. He forgot to close the prison door.
It was h quick getaway for the four prisoners. A waiting car brought theme to Colombo, but here another hazard faced them. It was the Victoria Bridge. Preparations were then being made by Sir Geoffrey Layton to dynamite the bridge if the Japanese set foot in Colombo. But the four of them crossed into the city safely and dispersed in different directions.
Dr.N.M.Perera proceeded to Wellawatte and living almost under the shadow of the Police Station, planned an escape to India. The only person that N.M. visited was his brother N.S. Perera, who lived near Bishop’s College. The visits were undertaken always under cover of darkness and in heavy disguise which were changed from day to day.
Shortly afterwards, the four fugitives had a pleasant reunion at Velvettiturai where a Jaffna Tamil friend played host. Disguised as fishermen, they were smuggled out of Ceylon to Madras, where Dr.N.M. Perera got into dhoti and cloth cap and changed his name to Govind Viswanath. Later, proceeding to Bombay, N.M. secured a job in a Bank and with his salary, had to support his starving comrades.
But fate intervened again when someone sneaked to the Bank Manager that Ceylon’s most wanted man was on their pay-roll. Back in jail, Dr.N.M.Perera could now assess whether the joint in Arthur Road, Bombay, was superior to that at Bogambara. He found them equally filthy. Freedom came a few months later, not only for the quartet, but for everybody in Ceylon, giving a chance to the Sama Samajist intellectuals to make their valuable contribution to the progress of the country.
But the moral of the escapade is that there cannot be a serious communal canker in a country where four Sinhalese Buddhist political detenus are levered to liberty by a Dutch Burgher Christian, assisted by a Jaffna Tamil Hindu. It also shows that the heart of Sri Lanka, like that of the great Socialist leader whose body is lying-in-State today, will beat soundly to the very end.
(Excerpted from The Good at their best first published in 1979)
Features
‘Lord Edgware Dies’
It has been some time since I read an Agatha Christie, the plot of which I cannot remember. So, I was delighted to find on the shelves of a friend Lord Edgware Dies, which I had a vague memory of, but no certainty about who had done it.
When I read it, I found that my memory of who was probably the killer was correct, but I could not be certain and the red herrings Christie threw in were so diverting that until almost the very end I wondered if I had been wrong.
The plot is very simple. Jane Wilkinson, who is married to Lord Edgware, tells him that she is desperate for a divorce since she is in love with a very proper Anglo-Catholic peer, Lord Melton, but Edgware refuses to divorce her. She asks Poirot to talk to him, which he does, and is surprised to find that Edgware has told Jane he is prepared to give her a divorce. This was, after he had categorically refused, through a letter, which Jane said she had not received.
That night Edgware is murdered, after Jane had been to see him, or so the butler said, and also Edgware’s secretary. But Jane had been that evening at a grand dinner many miles away, where a dozen fellow guests could swear to her presence.
There was a solution however to the mystery of two Jane Wilkinsons, namely a skilful impersonator called Carlotta Adams who, in the opening chapter had impersonated Jane Wilkinson, who had also been at the performance. But when Poirot goes to see her, he finds that she had been found dead on the morning after Edgware had been killed, of an overdose. And in her bag was a gold case, with a strange inscription, that contained the drug, along with a pair of pince-nez.
Her maid said she had written a letter to her sister in America and posted it the previous night. Poirot asks Inspector Japp to get the letter, and a transcript is received from America, and in it the name of Edgware’s nephew Ronald Marsh is mentioned; he had taken Carlotta to dinner after her performance, with which the book opens, and had then set her a challenge. Japp arrests Marsh, but Poirot is not happy and asks for the original of the letter, which the sister sends him. That shows that a page is missing, and the tear is obvious, though that raises the question as to why it had not simply been cut.
Matters are further complicated by the fact that Marsh had gone in a taxi to the Edgware house, along with Edgware’s daughter Geraldine, in the interval of an opera which had previously seemed to provide them with cast iron alibis. Geraldine had gone in to fetch her pearls so that Marsh could raise money he needed, and thus had an opportunity to kill Edgware, as did Marsh, for the driver said he had got out of the taxi while waiting and gone into the house.
Marsh explained why he had gone to the house on the night of the murder as having followed Bryan Martin, an American actor, who had been in love with Jane, whom he saw go into the house with a key. But there was no one visible when he entered, and Geraldine almost immediately came down and they left together. And Martin too has become an object of suspicion to Poirot, for he had been to see him before the murders were discovered with a story of being followed by a man with a gold tooth – a story Poirot immediately realized was false when he was asked how old the man was, and was told he was young, for young people did not have gold teeth.
A heap of French money Edgware had got for a trip to Paris was missing, but since Marsh had no need for it after his cousin’s offer of help, Poirot deduces that it must have been taken by the butler, who has disappeared. Christie has stressed that he is astonishingly handsome, unusual in a butler, and Poirot notes a resemblance to Martin, so he thinks the mysterious man going into the house must have been him.
Incidentally, later Poirot assumes that Edgware’s change of mind was because he was involved in some scandal, and I believe Christie intends us to see the cause of this in his handsome butler, though this is not specified.
Meanwhile, Poirot has asked Japp to find out the provenance of the case found in Carlotta’s handbag, and it turns out to have been made in Paris, specially commissioned, and collected by a woman with pince-nez.
But then another murder occurs—that of another guest at the grand dinner, which provided Jane with her alibi. The victim is an actor who had been bemused when Jane, at a lunch, thought the Judgment of Paris referred to the city. He told Hastings he wanted to see Poirot, but was killed before he could get to the appointment. Poirot had rushed there when told about his request, but it was too late.
Meanwhile, Poirot has tried out the pince-nez on Edgware’s secretary, but she could not see through these. It was only a chance remark heard outside the theatre that led him to try them out on Wilkinson’s maid Ellis, a spare pair that had been appropriated for the night of the murders.
Poirot then lays things out, having summoned Martin and told him that he probably suppressed Edgware’s letter, as he had been dropped by then and he did not want Jane to marry another. But after teasing Martin, Poirot says that Jane was in fact the murderer, and she got Carlotta to impersonate her at the dinner while she went to the house and killed her husband. After meeting Carlotta later and checking with her through a call that she had
not been rumbled, Jane had gone ahead with the murder – she put veronal into her drink and the case with veronal into the handbag. She forgot to take out the pince-nez she had used earlier to imitate an American. Carlotta had registered as the American in a hotel and Jane had gone to see her, and there they exchanged identities. After seen the letter, she made use of it by tearing off the page that referred to her, and the S of She, so that the person who had challenged Carlotta to impersonate her seemed to be a man.
There is a coda in which Jane, condemned to death, writes to Hastings, still full of pride at her ingenuity hoping she will be remembered.
Features
Desilt reservoirs, learn from our ancient irrigation systems
by Prof. O. A. Ileperuma
Silting of reservoirs is a major problem today affecting our hydropower production and irrigation systems. The main Mahaweli reservoirs are silted to a considerable extent reducing the water holding capacity of them. Due to poor soil management practices, floodwaters deposit large amounts of silt in these reservoirs. When the Polgolla reservoir was fully drained about two years back, one could see mountains of silt in the lower reaches of the reservoir. A rough estimate is that 50% of the total capacity of these reservoirs has been lost to siltation. This is a serious issue which affects not only power and agriculture but also flood control.
Our ancient irrigation systems ensured that desilting of reservoirs took place under royal decree where all users of the reservoirs were ordered to carry out desilting of reservoirs during the dry season. The clay thus collected was used in making bricks for the construction of great stupas which dot the landscape of our ancient kingdoms. This ensured that the reservoirs had their full capacity filled with water for the next cultivating season. Our ancient kings were clever enough not to construct reservoirs by blocking main rivers such as the Mahaweli. A classic example is the Minipe left canal where they tapped only the surface water of Mahaweli. Even the bigger tanks such as Nuwara Wewa and Parakrama Samudraya were fed with minor rivulets. There were also other ingenious features in the cascade irrigation systems built by the ancient kings, such as mud sluice canals and forest reservations between the reservoirs in the cascade system. These reservations helped trap silt and remove excess nutrients, which could otherwise contribute to increasing salinity as water flowed from one reservoir to another.
- Parakrama Samudraya
- Kalawewa
- Kotmale
A classic engineering marvel is the former Yoda Ela, which carries water from Kalawewa to Nuwara Wewa and Tissa Wewa. It is 87 km long although the straight distance between these points is only about 40 km. The gradient of this canal is about 10 cm per km or 6 inches per mile. Yodha Ela functions as a moving reservoir and feeds about 4,600 hectares of paddy lands. It is a winding canal with about 120 smaller reservoirs on its way. It was constructed during the reign of King Dhatusena around 459 AD and later expanded by King Parakramabahu by connecting more reservoirs to the network. Unfortunately, during the Mahaweli project our modern-day engineers constructed a concrete canal replacing the winding path of this Yoda Ela also called Jaya Ganga. This effectively removed the ability of the old Yoda Ela to remove silt and nutrients. The bank of this Ela has wet zone trees such as jak and areca nut growing well. They take up the nutrients from the flowing stream making the water suitable for irrigation later.
Ancient Mesopotamian civilisations depended on dams constructed along the two main rivers, Euphrates and Tigris. After continuous irrigation of their fields over several thousand years, salinity of the irrigated lands increased making them unsuitable for agriculture. People died due to famine and this clearly illustrates the danger of blocking main rivers for agriculture. There is scientific evidence that the salinity of paddy soils in the Mahaweli C area is increasing.
We saw the devastation caused by Cyclone Ditwah. The sluice gates of the Kotmale Reservoir were opened, and Kandy and Peradeniya were flooded. If the reservoir had had greater storage capacity, couldn’t the opening of the gates have been delayed? This may not be an argument that modern-day engineers would readily accept, and I am not an irrigation expert. These ideas may well be naïve. But most of us tend to think of reservoirs mainly in terms of hydropower generation and irrigation, while their role in flood control receives much less attention. The question therefore deserves serious consideration. Could restoring lost reservoir capacity through desilting help improve our ability to manage extreme rainfall and reduce flood risks?
Desilting our reservoirs should be considered a national priority.
Features
Losing out to Ethiopia
Export diversification – Missing the wood for the trees – Part III
by Gomi Senadhira
In Sri Lanka, the word “Ethiopia” is often used as disparaging slang to describe individuals or areas experiencing extreme poverty, starvation, or severe economic hardship. This linguistic habit originated in the 1980s with the Western media coverage of the devastating Ethiopian famine of 1983-85. That media coverage shocked the world but also left an outdated and offensive global stereotype that the country is permanently starving. Much has changed since then. By now, with an annual growth rate of around 9%, it is the fastest-growing economy in sub-Saharan Africa. Ethiopia has also emerged as a highly competitive exporter and is challenging not only its competitors in the region but also countries like Sri Lanka. This article is on how Sri Lanka has lost ground to Ethiopia (and a few other countries) in the GCC markets for agricultural and floricultural products.
Sri Lanka – A Pioneer in the Agriculture and Floricultural Market in the GCC
As discussed in Part II of this article, by the mid-1980s Sri Lanka had established a strong foothold in the GCC’s fruit, vegetable, and floricultural market. Geographical proximity and well-established shipping and air links gave Sri Lanka a strong comparative advantage over Southeast Asian and African nations. Thailand, Vietnam, and Kenya were not even in the market. At that time, Ethiopia was experiencing (as BBC news reports described) “a biblical famine”.
The market was not very large, but it was lucrative and growing. Trade Minister Lalith Athulathmudali as well as the Chairman of the Export Development Board, Victor Santiapillai, who visited Kuwait (and the GCC countries), recognised the market potential for these products and encouraged us to continue with our work. The minister was particularly keen to further develop links between the market for these products, exporters, and his Export Production Villages (EPVs). So, it was becoming a successful case not only for export diversification but also for transferring gains from exports directly to rural households.
From Trailblazer to Tailender
As a result, even by the beginning of this century Sri Lanka had a larger market share than most of its competitors from Asia or Africa. But since then, our competitiveness has weakened significantly. The tables below provide a comparative snapshot of Sri Lanka’s performance vis-à-vis Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya and Ethiopia in the GCC market for vegetables, fruits and floricultural products. As illustrated therein, in 2001 Sri Lanka was ahead of Thailand, Kenya and Ethiopia in this small but rapidly growing market. Since then, we have fallen behind Thailand, Kenya and many other countries in that lucrative market. If this trend continues, Sri Lanka will fall behind Ethiopia within the next few years. (See Table 1)
In the GCC market for vegetables (covered in HS chapter 07), Sri Lanka was ahead of most other competitors in 2001. As illustrated in Table 1 , Sri Lanka had failed to develop this market, while Thailand, Kenya, and even Ethiopia had very efficiently increased their market shares. The GCC is a market to which Sri Lanka can supply some vegetables, like cabbages, by sea. It appears Sri Lanka had also failed to exploit this mode of supply.
We can see a similar trend in the market for fruits. Vietnam, Kenya, and Thailand have emerged as major players, while exports from Sri Lanka have staggered on slowly. In this segment, Vietnam has emerged as a leading player during the last twenty years and the GCC imports from Viet Nam have shot up from US$44 thousand in 2001 to US$346 million by 2024. In part one of these articles, I discussed the remarkable increase of jackfruit exports from Vietnam “…just $3 million in 2015 to an impressive $236.8 million in 2023” while most of our jackfruit production rots under the trees. This explains how countries develop their markets, geographically and product-wise. (See Table 2)
Sri Lanka’s performance has been weakest in the market for floricultural products (HS Chapter 06), which groups live trees, cut flowers, and ornamental foliage. When we first entered the market in the 1980s, the market was dominated by the Netherlands, and Kenya and Ethiopia were not even in the market. At that time, we identified the Gulf states as a market where Sri Lanka could have a dominant presence due to geographical proximity. Even in 2001, Sri Lanka was ahead of Kenya, Ethiopia, and Thailand. But by now, Kenya has emerged as the dominant supplier. Ethiopia is also expanding its market share and is the third-largest exporter. (See Table 3)
Missing the Wood for the Trees
In the mid-1980s, Sri Lanka first established its foothold in the GCC market. Since then, Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya, and even Ethiopia have moved well ahead of us and have become leading players. Why did we lag behind in our export diversification efforts in general and, more particularly, in the GCC market?
The reasons are very clear. After the initial attempts in the 1980s and early 1990s, Sri Lanka has not been proactively involved in identifying, developing, and promoting new products and markets, or protecting and further developing new markets already established. The focus has simply been on traditional exports: tea, coconut, cinnamon, and garments, while other products were almost ignored. In essence, we have been and continue to focus intensely on a narrow group of products and markets, and we have lost sight of the bigger picture.
(The writer can be reached at senadhiragomi@gmail.com)
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