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Compensating a ‘parlour’ owner in Cambodia

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by Jayantha Perera

I joined the ADB in Manila in November 2002. The highlight of the new job as a social safeguard specialist was the opportunity to visit and study projects in Asian countries. In 2003, I visited Cambodia to check whether the physically displaced persons of an ADB-funded highway project had received fair compensation for their lost property and adequate assistance to restore and improve their affected livelihoods and income sources.

The Travel Branch of the ADB secured an official Cambodian visa and a business-class air ticket for me. I expected to travel without any hindrance. At the Bangkok airport, my self-image as an international civil servant was smashed when a Thai Airways officer refused to board me because Cambodian authorities had not informed the airline about my arrival. The visa and the exchange of official letters between the ADB and the Government of Cambodia regarding my mission should have facilitated my travel. The airline counter officer called Phnom Penh to check whether I was on the list of arrivals for the evening Thai flight. After ten minutes, the officer issued my boarding pass.

Just before landing in Phnom Penh, I saw the vast floodplain. It stretched from the banks of the Mekong River to the outer edges of the expansive valley. The setting sun with many clouds created patterns of fantastic colours across the sky. I thought about the highway I would visit soon and wanted to see it from afar. I could not find it, but I saw a wide road with several overpasses under construction. I thought that was the highway that I was going to visit.

At the Phnom Penh airport, two uniformed officials stopped me. They grabbed my passport before I arrived at the immigration counter. They did not speak English but beckoned me to follow them to a large room. They went behind a large desk and ruffled through my passport as if looking for a hidden treasure or contraband. One of them scrutinized the Cambodian visa page. Then, both studied it together for another ten minutes. They waved at me to follow them to another room.

An old officer with more stars on his uniform lapel sat behind a vast, ornate table with a giant old computer. The two who accompanied me saluted the old man and said something loudly. The boss listened carefully and smiled. He asked me in English where I was going and whether I was an ADB staff member. Then he waited a few minutes, stamped my passport, and told me, “You can go now.” The two officials looked sad, as if they did not want to part with me.

When I exited the airport, a uniformed young man was waiting for me with my name on a piece of cardboard. He did not speak English, but I trusted him to take me to the hotel that the ADB had booked for me. The evening was pleasant soon after a light shower. I could see and feel the heat emanating from the newly tarred road in front of the hotel. I wanted to go out for a walk but was scared that another uniformed person might stop me to interrogate me. I found refuge in my comfortable hotel room.

I met with the project international resettlement consultant at the hotel in the morning. As a British citizen who had lived in Cambodia for a decade, he brought a wealth of experience and understanding of the local context to our discussions. Together, we identified a few locations on a map to visit in the morning. At the first location, we met about 10 persons. Each had lost a narrow strip of land from their front yards to the highway. They still lived on their shrunken property. They complained that they had not received adequate compensation for the acquired property.

The project had not improved or at least restored their lost livelihoods. Many were fruit and vegetable sellers with stalls in their front gardens close to the road. After the road widening, no driver stopped at their fruit and vegetable stalls to buy. Vehicles moved very fast, and there were no kerbs where a car could park safely to purchase local products. The resettlement planners of the project, too, had apparently ignored the loss of income of the fruit and vegetable sellers.

The consultant took me to a small bazaar on the highway. I walked around and saw a new building. Its front door was closed, but several persons were standing before it. I walked to them with the translator and asked them whether they, too, had lost land. A man in a short-sleeved red shirt and white trousers smiled and introduced himself as the building owner. He spoke English haltingly. He invited us in and opened a few windows. The furniture smelled musty. He shouted at a young man, and in a few minutes, the young man brought us herbal tea. While sipping tea, the owner studied us without talking. Once we all drank tea, he rubbed his palms and smiled again.

“Are you from the World Bank?” the owner inquired.

“No. We are from the ADB,” I replied.

“Good. I wanted to talk to you,” the owner said.

He took time to discuss his issues, was apologetic, and gave the impression that he was reluctant to divulge some information or that some problems bothered him.

I asked him, Did you lose any land to the highway?

Yes, I lost a strip of land to the road, and as a result, I had to rebuild the facade of the building, he complained.

“Did you get money for the land taken?” I asked.

“Yes, the company paid me. But not enough money. The land by the highway is precious. I spent more money to rebuild the facade of the building. He hesitated again and smiled. I waited for him to collect his thoughts.

Suddenly, he said, “I had a popular parlour here, and 20 women worked for me.” His voice lowered, and he seemed to be struggling with his emotions. He muttered something, and then, visibly emotional, he began to cry. I waited, understanding the depth of his experience.

Finally, he said, “I didn’t receive any compensation for losing my livelihood and those 20 young women. They were good girls from nearby villages. Customers praised their service.” Despite the challenges, the owner’s resilience was genuinely inspiring.

Did anyone visit you before the construction of the highway started? I asked.

“Several surveyors visited me and collected information about my land.”

Did you tell them about the parlour and the girls?

The town officer was with the surveyors. He knew about the parlour. He criticized me for running an unlicensed brothel in front of the surveyors. But I had paid the town officers monthly for running the parlour.

Do you still run the parlour? the consultant queried.

“How can I? The town office threatened to acquire the whole building if I restarted the business,” he retorted. Then he continued, “I was born in Vietnam but moved to Cambodia when I was young. I knew some American soldiers, and I learned English from them. My father left this land to me. I did various odd jobs and earned money to start the parlour. First, I brought in three young village women and paid them well. They were happy, and they still wanted to be with me. I treated them as my sisters. I protected them from nasty gangs who kidnapped women to smuggle out of the country.”

He paused for a while and got into a reflective mood. We all waited. Because I treated the three women well, they offered to bring their friends to my parlour. I was very reasonable with all of them. I paid them weekly and provided free food and lodging. For ordinary services such as body massages and head rubs, I charged only five dollars. If a man wanted to stay longer, I charged 10 dollars and the food cost. Some village girls offered their services part-time to earn a little extra money. One girl wanted to earn money for her wedding. When all of them were with me, this large house was full of fun, food, and company.”

Where are those girls now I inquired.

The parlour owner explained, “Most of them returned to their villages. About six brave women stayed with me to serve clients from the bazaar. You know their job is precarious, as most clients are truck drivers and strangers. Some have tried to take women from the bazaar to unknown places.

He said in a sad tone, Women chose to stay with me because I know most of the men at the bazaar. The women love me. When the women were with me, a doctor checked them every month for infectious diseases. I provided free condoms and told my clients that they should wear condoms if they wanted services other than massage. There were a few instances when clients refused to wear condoms. I intervened and sent them off after refunding them.”

I heard recently that three women disappeared from the bazaar. They were not my women. Someone told me that the Police had picked them up and taken them away. I don’t know what happened. The Police continued to visit me, and the town officer threatened the building would be acquired soon because of its bad reputation.”

He smiled and told me that the Police and town officers were unhappy because some could not get free services anymore. Some of them blamed me for the collapse of the parlour. With 20 women, two full-time cooks and four waiters lost their employment. They did not get any compensation for losing their livelihood. The project authorities did not treat them as project-affected persons because they worked at the parlour.

I inquired about the women who had gone back to their villages. He did not know what happened to them, but he was sure they were unemployed. Their families depended on the money they had earned at the parlour. He got pensive again and waited a few minutes as if worried about their fate. He inquired whether the women could get compensation because they had lost their employment. I told him they should get compensation and at least some training in income generation.

The ADB’s Involuntary Resettlement Policy views a displaced person’s employment from an economic, not an ethical, point of view. The parlour business was not considered immoral or illegal in countries such as Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam. Women who worked in such places did so to earn a living for themselves and their dependents.

Just before we left the parlour, he showed me the rooms and facilities he had offered his clients. There were eight rooms, each with a bed and a small shower stall. The rooms were clean. Then he took me to a heap of boxes covered with a bedsheet. He took off the bedsheet, and there were many condom boxes neatly arranged on a table. He said that he had bought 2,000 condoms from a businessman just before the town office closed his parlour. It had cost him a lot, and now he did not know what to do with them.

In my ‘back-to-office report’ (BTOR) to the ADB, I discussed the predicament of vegetable and fruit sellers and the parlour owner and his workers. I highlighted that the project had not yet paid them reasonable compensation or provided income rehabilitation assistance. I pointed out that compensation should not be limited to the land acquired. Those who lost their livelihoods and sources of income should also receive compensation and project assistance.

The Division Director at the ADB encouraged me to revise the BTOR and focus only on land acquisition and compensation. I hesitated to change the report. Two days later, the Chief Compliance Officer came to my room smiling and wanted to know more about my encounter with the parlour owner. He agreed with my analysis of the problems of project-affected persons. Still, he asked me to remove the details about the parlour from the report.



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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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