Features
Fieldwork and Travels in Rural Sindh, Pakistan
by Jayantha Perera
After completing my Ford fellowship at Oxford University in 1991, I joined the Indus River Left Bank Outfall Drainage Project in Sindh, Pakistan, as its Senior Socio-Economist and resident team leader. The project, sponsored by the World Bank, Asian Development Bank, and several other international donors, aimed at improving irrigated agriculture in Sindh. The Sindh Development Studies Centre (SDSC) of the University of Sindh in Jamshoro (near Hyderabad) oversaw the socio-economic studies of the project.
I arrived at Karachi Airport in late December. Parvez Pathan, my SDSC counterpart, met me at the airport. We discussed my accommodation and security on our drive to Jamshoro, about 220 kilometres from Karachi. He told me a beautifully furnished bungalow awaited me on the university campus. He opined that I should always have a trustworthy person with me for my security. SDSC had found a reliable young man to be my housekeeper, cook, and personal security guard.
It was a hot day, and the parched and dusty vast landscape looked like the moon’s surface. White sand dunes spread miles to the horizon on both sides of the highway. Occasionally, I saw small empty huts. The temperature was about 50 degrees centigrade. We drove through a desert on a melting tarred road. Sometimes, the van could not move fast without switching off its air conditioner. I thought that I might not survive in such harsh weather. I was not prepared to live in a desert. I missed Sri Lanka, where I see trees, water, blue sky, and greenery wherever I go. Thinking I would live five years in Jamshoro made me sick and sad. The journey to Jamshoro seemed never-ending.
The mirage ahead of us on the road suddenly transformed into an oasis with trees, houses, gardens, and kachcha (dirt) roads radiating from the highway. Parvez told me that we were in Jamshoro. He took me to the SDSC, where the Director and his staff were waiting for us. From the air-conditioned van, I walked to the scorching dusty veranda of the SDSC. I immediately entered the main building, which was ice cold as all air conditioners were at full speed. The Director and the staff were polite, genuinely warm, and welcoming, instantly making me feel at home. We chattered over lunch, which consisted of parathas, fried chicken, onion rings, and a tomato salad. The Director said he and his staff were happy to welcome me as a South Asian friend and brother. After lunch, Parvez took me to my bungalow in the university park.
After two days, I visited several water courses about 100 kilometres north of Jamshoro. Travelling in rural Sindh is a fascinating experience. However, it is always intertwined with the high risk of being kidnapped for ransom. In the early 1990s, a foreigner’s ‘head value’ was Pakistani Rs. 10 million. I heard a Chinese engineer had paid Rs. 8 million to his captors to return to freedom. When a victim is nabbed, dacoits (robbers) take him to the Indus Riverbank and keep him in a cave. A widespread rumour was dacoits do not capture a victim after 2 pm. It takes about 4-6 hours to reach the riverbank from the main trunk road and dacoits like to complete the task of kidnapping before sunset. They were backed by some powerful politicians and rich Zamindars (feudal landlords) who bribed the Police when a dacoit was arrested to get him released. Dacoits are ruthless and do not hesitate to behead a victim when ransom money is not delivered.
In some remote villages, one comes across old British bungalows built in the 19th century for irrigation administration. Most are now abandoned, but a few still serve travellers and visitors. At a bungalow, a guest gets a large cot with a dirty bedspread and a pillow as hard as a stone. The bungalow keeper and the chokidar (guard) arrange guest beds in the foyer or compound. A visitor lies down and rests before engaging in any conversation. The bungalow keeper invariably serves Murry beer and local whiskey with fried chicken or karai (mutton cubes cooked in oil with onions) before the main meal is served.
Usually, guests bring beef and mutton in cool boxes. In the evenings, hot bread, unlimited onion rings, and large portions of fried meat keep a group talking for hours under the clear sky with bright and giant stars. Long spells of silence are a part of a conversation. After a few hours of eating and drinking, the dialogue moves to the past. Locals lament how badly the British treated them and, after independence, how the Punjab-led Pakistan State has usurped their assets, especially the water and land.
Once, I visited a feudal mansion with Memon, an SDSC colleague, on the border between Sindh and Baluchistan. It was in a remote village and was accessible only by a four-wheel-drive jeep. A large mango orchard surrounded the mansion. Memon’s father was a senior official at the Customs in Karachi and was known as ‘Chief.’ A kachcha (clay) parapet surrounded the mansion with one entrance. The Chief ordered his servants to organize a dabaar (audience) in the evening. They arranged two head chairs with armrests for the Chief and his guest. Two rows of chairs were placed in front of the two head chairs. The Chief and I occupied the two head chairs.
Memon, his relatives, and visitors occupied the chairs according to their family’s status. Once seated, no one started a conversation; instead, each acknowledged the others’ presence by nodding. After about 10 minutes, the Chief welcomed me to his ‘humble’ abode. He said he was responsible for my comfort, security, and happiness in the evening. Household helpers brought several bottles of Johnny Walker Blue label whisky to the dabaar. Large chunks of mutton were grilled on spikes on an open fire just behind us. The Chief and I opened the dabaar by hugging each other. In the dabaar, the Chief’s valet sat next to him on the floor. He had a large knife in his belt and did not allow anyone to get too close to the Chief.
A few hours later, the Police Chief of the area and his assistants arrived to chat with the Chief. A sub-inspector wanted to improve his English and talked to me with difficulty. He told me he knew me. “I handled your security file,” he said. Then, he revealed that he had obtained a copy of my CV from my computer with my secretary’s help while I was in Karachi. “What else do you know about me,” I asked him jokingly. The officer was too drunk to think. I told Memon what had happened, and he dismissed it as a joke. But when I showed my displeasure, Memon told the Police Officer that he was only a guest and should be careful about what he says. The officer apologized and said he would visit me for a friendly chat in Jamshoro.
When the Police officers and other visitors left the dabaar at midnight, four private armed guards emerged from nowhere. Each carried a machine gun and was dressed like a combat soldier. They checked the mansion’s interior, closed the entrance, and took position outside the wall. Memon told me armed private guards are necessary to protect life and property in rural Sindh.
The following day, I woke up to the noise of screeching parrots. The rising sun revealed a woven tapestry of beautiful clouds, and a gentle breeze brushed over the corn fields surrounding the mansion. Mustard fields at a corner gave the impression that we were in a hilly area. I went for a walk with Memon. Strong sunlight enveloped the mustard gardens, reflecting light from millions of mustard flowers. Hundreds of pheasants and wild pigeons busied around looking for worms and insects.
When I returned to the bungalow, I saw more than 50 men and women behind the kitchen waiting for their roti and subji (cooked vegetables). It was wage workers’ breakfast. An older woman (Memon’s grandmother) supervised the making and distributing chapati and subji. She joked with them and occasionally inquired about their children.
The Chief gave me two large boxes of mangoes and promised to send more. Memon and I travelled in his luxury jeep to SDSC, and my land cruiser followed it. The Chief was critical about constructing concrete irrigation canals to convey irrigation water from the river to the fields. He said kachcha (unpaved or unlined) natural canals suit the area. Due to the clay soil, the Indus River and its tributaries frequently change their paths. I pointed out that soil salinity and water logging were two critical challenges that Sinhdh farmers encountered. Kachcha canals formed shallow water pools in tributaries and watercourses, causing water logging. The concrete lining of watercourses would improve the speed of water conveyance, minimizing salinity and water logging.
On our field trips, Zamindars and Haris grieved about their lost grandeur and regional wealth. They lamented about the loss of great heroes and the failure of the new generation to look after their unique culture, which was fast disappearing. Some Zamindars and Haris served us lunch in the field, and workers sang songs before returning to work. Most folk songs they sang focused on the purity and bravery of women who stood up to powerful men. The story of King Omar falling in love with Marvi (shepherd girl) at a public well where the girl offered the king water to drink was famous. Some people had printouts of the paintings that depicted the king and the girl at the well.
Zamindars
were afraid of land reforms. As a result, they initially needed clarification about our fieldwork. They enthusiastically participated in discussions when they learned about our mission. Many of them needed to know how much land they owned. They had, however, a good idea about the boundaries of their property. They usually cultivated about half of the land in the Rabi (winter) season using rain and irrigation water; about one-fourth of the land during Kharif (summer) using only irrigation water. Often, crops failed, especially in Kharif, because of inadequate irrigation water supplies. On such occasions, tenants were burdened by the bulk of losses and were pushed into poverty and misery.
The relationship between a Zamindar and his Haris was cordial. A Zamindar selected Haris, prioritizing relatives and friends, honest and hard workers, and those with oxen and extra family labour. Haris consider Zamindars as their ‘father and mother’ (patrons) and depend on them for subsistence and protection. On average, a Hari gets 35% of the gross yield as his share. Soon after the harvesting season, hundreds of enormous camel carts with gunny bags full of wheat, mustard seeds, and rice can be seen on rural roads. At the same time, businesspersons from towns bring steel cabinets, agricultural utensils, and clothes to farmers’ doorsteps.
During the fish spawning season, Pallas (local salmon or Shrine) swim upstream of the mighty Indus River. But they can only swim up to the Kotri Barrage (dam) at Jamshoro, about 125km upstream from the sea. There is no fish ladder at the barrage. Thousands of fish get trapped at the barrage, and fishermen catch them in hundreds. Fish sellers clean Pallas on the road, and a kilogram of salt was rubbed inside each fish and then wrapped in several old newspapers. Intercity truck drivers bought the fish in bulk. They transported them to Punjab and North-Western Frontier Provinces with a lucrative profit margin.
In April, the news of the arrival of the annual World Bank mission excited the SDSC staff. The staff got busy writing project reports, printing them, organizing field visits, and arranging meetings with high-level government officials in Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad. My presence at SDSC generated some sense of relief among the staff. They expected me to write most of the reports and their executive summaries for the mission, which I gladly did.
The lunch and dinner menus at Jamshoro guesthouses, where most mission members stayed, changed overnight from chapati, lentil curry, and fried chicken to soups, boiled vegetables, steak, egg salads, and fried fish. The Bangladeshi cook at the main guesthouse collected money in advance from visitors for food and often tried to cheat them. Once, he returned from the grocery shop and complained that he had lost his wallet and all his money. The mission members gave him more money and helped him to overcome his anguish.
The final mission sessions were held in Islamabad and Lahore. Such meetings were often a disaster for the SDSC. Mission members criticized incomplete project reports, poor work progress, and rampant corruption at the project level. In 1994, the mission requested the change of the Director of SDSC. The State government agreed. The SDSC staff were happy because the new Director was a popular university professor. The ex-director thought I had masterminded the change and threatened that Sindh would not be a safe place for me anymore. He told the mission that local staff could do socio-economic surveys and social studies without any help from “outsiders”. The mission did not agree and extended my appointment by one more year.
Soon after the 1994 annual meeting, I went to Karachi to meet the State Secretary for Irrigation. Two SDSC colleagues joined me. We arrived at the Secretariat, and my two colleagues took the Jeep to collect their air tickets from a travel agent. My meeting with the secretary continued for two hours. I waited in his office for the Land Cruiser to return. Purbhan, my driver, returned to the Secretariat without the vehicle. His head was bleeding, and he looked severely shaken.
Purbhan had taken my two colleagues to the travel agent. He waited for them on the roadside while listening to a cricket match commentary on the radio. He forgot to lock the jeep doors. Two young men got into the vehicle from the front two doors; one pointed a handgun at Purbhan and told him to drive. After driving several kilometres, one of them hit him on the head with the gun butt, gave him twenty rupees, pushed him out of the vehicle, and drove away. The Police never found the Land Cruiser. Usually, robbers take stolen vehicles to Baluchistan. They repaint them with a different colour and change the chassis and engine numbers. Robbers hand over such stolen vehicles to politicians for a year or two to avoid police investigations.
My Land Cruiser had comprehensive insurance coverage from a leading bank in Karachi. When I reported the loss of the Land Cruiser to the bank, the clerk at the front desk told me that it had never been insured with the bank and that the insurance certificate I held was a fake document. Only then did I find out that the accountant had pocketed the money and given me a bogus insurance certificate. The World Bank blamed me for losing the Land Cruiser and not verifying the authenticity of the insurance certificate.
Parvez and I continued our field research in remote villages despite the threat of being kidnapped. We stayed at Zamindars’ houses during fieldwork. The houses were big and fenced with dry, thorny bushes to keep animals away. Large, open verandahs provided shade from the nasty sun and protection from fast-blowing dry winds that stirred fine dust. Lying on large wooden beds and cots with cotton mattresses, adults leisurely sipped hot tea or water. There was no hurry to do anything; things had to wait for a suitable time – it could be today, tonight, tomorrow or never!
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.
-
Sports5 days agoDDS set to lose Test captaincy
-
News5 days agoSri Lanka faces new grid challenge as rooftop solar surges: former CEB GM
-
Latest News4 days agoShafali, Deepti power India into sixth T20 Asia Cup final
-
Opinion7 days agoNavigating Sri Lanka’s Israeli Dilemma
-
Latest News4 days agoSri Lanka thwart Fatima Sana challenge to secure Asia Cup final spot
-
Features6 days agoLost for 90 years: Rare Goby resurfaces in Jaffna
-
News3 days agoGnanasara Thero absconding after SC ruling
-
News4 days agoAmmunition cache found in old Kandy bungalow
