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FOUR MUSKETEERS FOR THE ARAKAN FRONT

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Lord Louis Mountbatten, center, Supreme Allied Commander, South East Asia, salutes during a V-J parade on Galle Face Green, Colombo, Ceylon, on Aug. 25, 1945. Troops marched by reviewing stand in celebration of victory over Japan in World War II. File photo

by ECB Wijeyesinghe

Lord Mountbatten’s recent visit to Sri Lanka and the death of Captain Uyangoda of the Galle Face Hotel, one of the few Ceylonese heroes of the Arakan Front, have prompted me to make a short journey into the past, when the noble lord asked the Editors of four Ceylon newspapers to come to Burma and watch the final stages of the war against the Japanese.

I am not sure whether any other journalists from this part of the world were invited to take a ringside seat and watch the Allied blow that was intended to send the Japanese reeling. But Mountbatten, especially after his sojourn in Peradeniya, where the gardens were bristling with the loveliest flora and fauna, had a soft corner in his heart for Ceylon.

Hundreds of Kandy residents have seen him ride on horseback in the beautiful Udawattekelle, or drive a jeep all alone on the road to Katugastota where watching the elephants bathe in the Mahaveli was not the only diversion. In another country, during a World War, a whole battalion of security men would have accompanied the Supremo. But there was no need for such precautions in this peaceful island on which no invader had set foot since the days of Sri Wikrama Rajasinghe.

After Mountbatten moved the Allied headquarters, quietly but reluctantly, to less salubrious climes, he did not forget the little island that had given him so much hope and happiness. He wanted the people of Ceylon to see through the eyes of its newspapers the upper-cut that he was going to deliver in Lower Burma.

The invitations came to the four Editors to go and see for themselves the vastness of the undertaking to push back the Japanese steam-roller which had crushed everything in its path from Singapore northwards along the Malay peninsula. Incidentally, during that drive one of Ceylon’s best-known sons, Manicam Saravanamuttu was locked up by the Japanese in Penang and spent nine months in jail.

How Sara survived it all and was eventually appointed Ceylon Commissioner in Singapore is another story which has been related in a most graphic manner by Sara himself in his Saga which he published a few years before his death.

To come back to the Editors who were invited to go and watch the fun at the Front: they were A.C. Stewart of “The Times of Ceylon,” H.A.J. Hulugalle of the “Ceylon Daily News,” H.D. Jansz of the “Ceylon Observer,” and Iswara Iyer of the “Virakesari.”

SCOTSMAN

Stewart was a Scotsman to whom the idea of being a non-paying guest of Lord Mountbatten for three weeks made an instant appeal, however much he had to face the hazards of war. So, he accepted the invitation with alacrity. Besides, it gave him the chance of indulging in his pet hobby and making a few rupees on the side by collecting stamps from some of the most God-forsaken areas in South-east Asia.

But he was a good companion and had his own way of showing his appreciation of a friend’s kindness. He carried in his hip-pocket a flask of Hennessy’s Three Star Brandy, which he raised to his lips whenever the temperature dropped, and offered you a swig if there were not too many people about.

Herbert Hulugalle, one of the three other Editors invited, though he had a weakness for roaming round the world in peace time, thought twice before he went among the bombs. And the thinking was done by his wife, Lillian, a courageous woman at all times, but who somehow did not relish the idea of her husband spending the rest of his days in a Japanese prison camp.

But the statement which clinched her argument was the grim reminder: “Remember dear, we have seven children.” That was true. They had seven children, five of whom were sons, and one or two of them were not too easy to manage. Finally, Lillian managed to persuade Herbert that after all it was better not to take the risk and lay down his life on what he described as the purple plains of Burma.

There were heaps of purple spots in Ceylon, she told him, where he could die in greater comfort. Had the sweet-natured Lillian been alive today she would have confirmed the truth of my statement.

But Mountbatten’s kind request could not go unheeded. Someone had to go from the “Daily News” and Hulugalle’s deputy was sounded. His name was Gordon Jayanta Padmanabha, the handsome grandson of Sir Ponnambalam Arunachalam, and with a brain as agile as that of his celebrated grandfather. His mother was an English woman. Hence, his mother’s people called him Gordon, while his father’s folk, especially the top-drawer Jaffna Tamils in Cinnamon Gardens with marriageable daughters, lovingly called him Jayanta.

So Jayanta was asked to act as a substitute for Hulugalle and a signal was accordingly sent to the Allied Headquarters, as arrangements had to be made to confer on them the rank of Honorary Majors in the Army. The reason was that if the journalists by some stroke of ill-luck fell into the hands of the Japanese they would probably receive an additional potato and a cupful of congee with the prisoner’s rations.

So “Major” Padmanabha was asked to present himself before the Commander-in-Chief of Lake House, D.R. Wijewardene, who gave him his blessing and Rs.100 to cover out-of-pocket expenses for three weeks.

The third Editor to receive Mountbatten’s note was Hilaire Donald Jansz of the “Ceylon Observer” whom Lionel Wendt described as the “quaint, gaunt, saint,” a quiet Burgher with a puckish sense of humour, whose Sunday editorials, notable for their cynical levity, have evoked the highest praise from every journalist, British or otherwise, who worked in Ceylon.

Though his grandfather Ezekiel Jansz was a bit of a thug and once horse-whipped a British Government Agent, Hilaire was so meek and mild that people doubted whether he had the strength to hurt a fly. But to compensate for his physical infirmities, Providence compensated him with colossal intellectual gifts. I am saying all this to lead up to the point that D.R. Wijewardene considered Jansz indispensable.

Once, in a weak moment – and such moments were very rare – D.R.W. had confessed to one of his buddies : “Where can I get another Jansz.” Hence it was useless even to suggest to send Jansz to the battle-front. Somebody had to represent the “Observer” and he had to be dispensable. It was not difficult to find such a man.

For nearly 15 years Jansz had a deputy to do the odd jobs that he was physically incapable of doing. That was my business. Without further ado, Wijewardene decided, that I was the other man from Lake House to go on the Mountbatten mission, and the magnificent sum. of Rs. 100 was slipped into my hands also, to cover expenses.

The fourth invitation went to Iswara Iyer, the Managing Editor and part-proprietor of the Tamil daily, “Virakesari.” Iyer was a South Indian who had been educated in England and was fully conversant with the niceties of European culture. Though he was a Brahmin he was not too fastidious regarding what he ate, and had a liberal attitude towards what he drank.

He was a vegetarian and considered brandy a close relative of grape juice, and whisky as something extracted from concentrated barley water. There was no mention of alcohol when either of these potent liquors was consumed, the emphasis being on the grapes and the barley. Therefore, they were ideal drinks for vegetarians, especially rich Brahmins.

Iswara Iyer, however, was too busy with office matters to find the time to go to the Arakan and K.V.S. Vas, the chief leader writer and virtual editor of the paper, was pressed into service to take his boss’s place. Vas was also a Brahmin and except for a swig of brandy from Stewart’s flask to keep the cold out, he generally adhered to the diet and tenets of a conservative Hindu.

MAJOR

So one day in January nearly 32 years ago the four Musketeers, some of whom had never handled a musket in all their lives, were given the honorary rank of Major, and asked to assemble on the old racecourse, where an aircraft was waiting to whisk them off to India.

It was one of those ancient Dakotas with two long metal benches to serve both as seats and for luggage. The aircraft had been on the racecourse since early morning exposed to the rays of the burning sun and when we got in about noon, the temperature inside must have been according to a modest estimate, about 150 degrees Fahrenheit. All of us, except Vas, wore fairly heavy clothes as we were warned that it would be somewhat cold in North India through which we had to travel.

There was neither pressurizing nor air conditioning gadgets in our section of the plane and for the first half hour, wrapped up in my tweed suit, I was just wondering what sins I had committed in my previous birth, if any, to deserve this punishment. Not beads, but torrents of perspiration ran down my face, back and chest and reduced me to a kind of pulp. I well remember, when crossing our Palk Strait I felt that I had just emerged from a shower bath.

Then came the climb to higher regions when the temperature started to fall so rapidly that it was a mercy I did not contract double pneumonia before reaching Bangalore, our halt for the night. The next morning we resumed our journey and after a short stop at Vizagapatam reached Calcutta. We were billeted at the Grand Hotel and were now ready to take the Great Leap Forward to the Arakan Front, regarding which I hope to write some day soon if I manage to survive the present hot spell.

(Excerpted from The Good Among the Best first published in March 1976)



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Wishes, Resolutions and Climate Change

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Exchanging greetings and resolving to do something positive in the coming year certainly create an uplifting atmosphere. Unfortunately, their effects wear off within the first couple of weeks, and most of the resolutions are forgotten for good. However, this time around, we must be different, because the nation is coming out of the most devastating natural disaster ever faced, the results of which will impact everyone for many years to come. Let us wish that we as a nation will have the courage and wisdom to resolve to do the right things that will make a difference in our lives now and prepare for the future. The truth is that future is going to be challenging for tropical islands like ours.

We must not have any doubts about global warming phenomenon and its impact on local weather patterns. Over its 4.5-billion-year history, the earth has experienced drastic climate changes, but it has settled into a somewhat moderate condition characterised by periods of glaciation and retreat over the last million years. Note that anatomically modern Homo sapiens have been around only for two to three hundred thousand years, and it is reasoned that this stable climate may have helped their civilisation. There have been five glaciation periods over the last five hundred thousand years, and these roughly hundred-thousand-year cycles are explained by the astronomical phenomenon known as the Milankovitch Cycle (the lows marked with stars in Figure 1). At present, the earth is in an inter glacial period and the next glaciation period will be in about eighty thousand years.

(See Figure 1. Glaciation Cycles)

During these cycles, the global mean temperature has changed by about 7-8 degrees Centigrade. In contrast to this natural variation, earth has been experiencing a rapid temperature increase over the past hundred years. There is ample scientific evidence from multiple sources that this is caused by the increase in carbon dioxide gas in the atmosphere, which has seen a 50% increase over the historical levels in just hundred years (Figure 2). Carbon dioxide is one of the greenhouse gases which traps heat from the sun and slows the natural cooling process of the earth. This increase of carbon dioxide is due to human activities: fossil fuel burning, industrial processes, deforestation, and agricultural practices. Ironically, those who suffer from the consequences did not contribute to these changes; those who did contribute are trying their best to convince the world that the temperature changes we see are natural, and nothing should be done. We must have no illusions that global warming is a human-caused phenomenon, and it has serious repercussions.

(See Figure 2. Global Temperature and Carbon Dioxide Levels)

Why should we care about global warming? Well, there are many reasons, but let us focus on earth’s water cycle. Middle schoolers know that water evaporates from the oceans, rises into the atmosphere where it cools, condenses, and falls back onto earth as rain or snow. When the oceans warm, the evaporation increases, and the warmer atmosphere can hold more water vapour. Water laden atmosphere results in severe and erratic weather. Ironically, water vapour is also a greenhouse gas, and this has a snowballing effect. The increased ocean temperature also disrupts ocean currents that influence the weather on land. The combined result is extreme and severe weather: violent storms and droughts depending on the geographic location. What is happening on the West coast of the USA is an example. The net result will be major departures from what is considered normal weather over millennia.

International organisations have been talking for 30 years about limiting global temperature increase to 1.5oC above pre-industrial levels by curtailing greenhouse gas emissions. But not much has been done and the temperature has risen by 1.2oC already. The challenge is that even if we can stop greenhouse gas emissions completely, right now, we have the problem of removing already existing 2,500 billion tons of carbon from the atmosphere, for which there are no practical solutions yet. Scientists worry about the consequences of runaway temperature increase and its effect on human life, which are many. It is not a doomsday prediction of life disappearing from earth, but a warning that life will be quite different from what humans are used to. All small tropical nations like ours are burdened with mitigating the consequences; in other words, get ready for more Ditwahs, do not wait for the twelve-day forecast.

Some opined that not enough warning was given regarding Ditwah; the truth is that the tools available for long-term prediction of the path or severity of a weather event (cyclone, typhoon, hurricane, tornado) are not perfect. There are multitude of rapidly changing factors contributing to the behavior of weather events. Meteorologists feed most up to date data to different computer models and try to identify the prediction with the highest probability. The multiple predictions for the same weather event are represented by what is known as spaghetti plots. Figure 3 shows the forecasted paths of a 2019 Atlantic hurricane five days ahead on the right and the actual path it followed on the left. While the long-term prediction of the path of a cyclone remains less accurate, its strength can vary within hours. There are several Indian ocean cyclones tracking sites online accessible to the public.

Figure 3. Forecasting vs Reality

There is no argument that short-term forecasts of this nature are valuable in saving lives and movable assets, but having long term plans in place to mitigate the effects of natural disasters is much more important than that. If a sizable section of the population must start over their lives from ground zero after every storm, how can a country economically develop?

The degree of our unpreparedness came to light during Ditwah disaster. It is not for lack of awareness; judging by the deluge of newspaper articles, blogs, vlogs, and speeches made, there is no shortage of knowledge and technical expertise to meet the challenge. The government has assured the necessary resources, and there is good reason to trust that the funds will be spent properly and not to line the pockets as happened during previous disasters. However, history tells us that despite the right conditions and good intentions, we could miss the opportunity again. Reasons for such skepticisms emerged during the few meetings the President held with the bureaucrats while visiting effected areas. Also, the COPE committee meetings plainly display the inherent inefficiencies and irregularities of our system and the absence of work ethics among all levels of the bureaucracy.

What it tells us is that we as a nation have an attitude problem. There are ample scholarly analyses by local as well as international researchers on this aspect of Sri Lankan psyche, and they label it as either island or colonial mentality. The first refers to the notion of isolated communities perceiving themselves as exceptional or superior to the rest of the world, and that the world is hell-bent on destroying or acquiring what they have. This attitude is exacerbated by the colonial mentality that promoted the divide and conquer rules and applied it to every societal characteristic imaginable; and plundered natural resources. As a result, now we are divided along ethnic, linguistic, religious, political, class, caste, geography, wealth, and many more real and imagined lines. Sadly, politicians, some religious leaders, and other opportunists keep inflaming these sentiments for their benefit when most of the population is willing to move on.

The first wish, therefore, is to get the strength, courage, and wisdom to think rationally, and discard outdated and outmoded belief systems that hinder our progress as a nation. May we get the courage to stop venerating elite who got there by exploiting the masses and the country’s wealth. More importantly, may we get the wisdom to educate the next generation to be free thinkers, give them the power and freedom to reject fabrications, myths, and beliefs that are not based on objective facts.

This necessitates altering our attitude towards many aspects of life. There is no doubt that free thinking does not come easily, it involves the proverbial ‘exterminating the consecrated bull.’ We are rightfully proud about our resplendent past. It is true that hydraulic engineering, art, and architecture flourished during the Anuradhapura period.

However, for one reason or another, we have lost those skills. Nowadays, all irrigation projects are done with foreign aid and assistance. The numerous replicas of the Avukana statue made with the help of modern technology, for example, cannot hold a candle to the real one. The fabled flying machine of Ravana is a figment of marvelous imagination of a skilled poet. Reality is that today we are a nation struggling with both natural and human-caused disasters, and dependent on the generosity of other nations, especially our gracious neighbor. Past glory is of little help in solving today’s problems.

Next comes national unity. Our society is so fragmented that no matter how beneficial a policy or an idea for the nation could be, some factions will oppose it, not based on facts, but by giving into propaganda created for selfish purposes. The island mentality is so pervasive, we fail to trust and respect fellow citizens, not to mention the government. The result is absence of long-term planning and stability. May we get the insight to separate policy from politics; to put nation first instead of our own little clan, or personal gains.

With increasing population and decreasing livable and arable land area, a national land management system becomes crucial. We must have an intelligent zoning system to prevent uncontrolled development. Should we allow building along waterways, on wetlands, and road easements? Should we not put the burden of risk on the risk takers using an insurance system instead of perpetual public aid programs? We have lost over 95% of the forest cover we had before European occupation. Forests function as water reservoirs that release rainwater gradually while reducing soil erosion and stabilizing land, unlike monocultures covering the hill country, the catchments of many rivers. Should we continue to allow uncontrolled encroachment of forests for tourism, religious, or industrial purposes, not to mention personal enjoyment of the elite? Is our use of land for agricultural purposes in keeping with changing global markets and local labor demands? Is haphazard subsistence farming viable? What would be the impact of sea level rising on waterways in low lying areas?

These are only a few aspects that future generations will have to grapple with in mitigating the consequences of worsening climate conditions. We cannot ignore the fact that weather patterns will be erratic and severe, and that will be the new normal. Survival under such conditions involves rational thinking, objective fact based planning, and systematic execution with long term nation interests in mind. That cannot be achieved with hanging onto outdated and outmoded beliefs, rituals, and traditions. Weather changes are not caused by divine interventions or planetary alignments as claimed by astrologers. Let us resolve to lay the foundation for bringing up the next generation that is capable of rational thinking and be different from their predecessors, in a better way.

by Geewananda Gunawardana

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From Diyabariya to Duberria: Lanka’s Forgotten Footprint in Global Science

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Snakes and their name origins in Sinhala

For centuries, Sri Lanka’s biological knowledge travelled the world — anonymously. Embedded deep within the pages of European natural history books, Sinhala words were copied, distorted and repurposed, eventually fossilising into Latinised scientific names of snakes, bats and crops found thousands of kilometres away.

Africa’s reptiles, Europe’s taxonomic catalogues and global field guides still carry those echoes, largely unnoticed and uncredited.

Now, a Sri Lankan herpetologist is tracing those forgotten linguistic footprints back to their source.

Through painstaking archival research into 17th- and 18th-century zoological texts, herpetologist and taxonomic researcher Sanjaya Bandara has uncovered compelling evidence that several globally recognised scientific names — long assumed to be derived from Greek or Latin — are in fact rooted in Sinhala vernacular terms used by villagers, farmers and hunters in pre-colonial Sri Lanka.

“Scientific names are not just labels. They are stories,” Bandara told The Island. “And in many cases, those stories begin right here in Sri Lanka.”

Sanjaya Bandara

At the heart of Bandara’s work is etymology — the study of word origins — a field that plays a crucial role in zoology and taxonomy.

While classical languages dominate scientific nomenclature, his findings reveal that Sinhala words were quietly embedded in the foundations of modern biological classification as early as the 1700s.

One of the most striking examples is Ahaetulla, the genus name for Asian vine snakes. “The word Ahaetulla is not Greek or Latin at all,” Bandara explained. “It comes directly from the Sinhala vernacular used by locals for the Green Vine Snake.” Remarkably, the term was adopted by Carl Linnaeus himself, the father of modern taxonomy.

Another example lies in the vespertilionid bat genus Kerivoula, described by British zoologist John Edward Gray. Bandara notes that the name is a combination of the Sinhala words kiri (milky) and voula (bat). Even the scientific name of finger millet, Eleusine coracana, carries linguistic traces of the Sinhala word kurakkan, a cereal cultivated in Sri Lanka for centuries.

Yet Bandara’s most intriguing discoveries extend far beyond the island — all the way to Africa and the Mediterranean.

In a research paper recently published in the journal Bionomina, Bandara presented evidence that two well-known snake genera, Duberria and Malpolon, both described in 1826 by Austrian zoologist Leopold Fitzinger, likely originated from Sinhala words.

The name Duberria first appeared in Robert Knox’s 1681 account of Ceylon, where Knox refers to harmless water snakes called “Duberria” by locals. According to Bandara, this was a mispronunciation of Diyabariya, the Sinhala term for water snakes.

“Mispronunciations are common in Knox’s writings,” Bandara said. “English authors of the time struggled with Sinhala phonetics, and distorted versions of local names entered European literature.”

Over time, these distortions became formalised. Today, Duberria refers to African slug-eating snakes — a genus geographically distant, yet linguistically tethered to Sri Lanka.

Bandara’s study also proposes the long-overdue designation of a type species for the genus, reviving a 222-year-old scientific name in the process.

Equally compelling is the case of Malpolon, the genus of Montpellier snakes found across North Africa, the Middle East and southern Europe. Bandara traced the word back to a 1693 work by English zoologist John Ray, which catalogued snakes from Dutch India — including Sri Lanka.

“The term Malpolon appears alongside Sinhala vernacular names,” Bandara noted. “It is highly likely derived from Mal Polonga, meaning ‘flowery viper’.” Even today, some Sri Lankan communities use Mal Polonga to describe patterned snakes such as the Russell’s Wolf Snake.

Bandara’s research further reveals Sinhala roots in the African Red-lipped Herald Snake (Crotaphopeltis hotamboeia), whose species name likely stems from Hothambaya, a regional Sinhala term for mongooses and palm civets.

“These findings collectively show that Sri Lanka was not just a source of specimens, but a source of knowledge,” Bandara said. “Early European naturalists relied heavily on local names, local guides and local ecological understanding.”

Perhaps the most frequently asked question Bandara encounters concerns the mighty Anaconda. While not a scientific name, the word itself is widely believed to be a corruption of the Sinhala Henakandaya, another snake name recorded in Ray’s listings of Sri Lankan reptiles.

“What is remarkable,” Bandara reflected, “is that these words travelled across continents, entered global usage, and remained there — often stripped of their original meanings.”

For Bandara, restoring those meanings is about more than taxonomy. It is about reclaiming Sri Lanka’s rightful place in the history of science.

“With this study, three more Sinhala words formally join scientific nomenclature,” he said.

“Who would have imagined that a Sinhala word would be used to name a snake in Africa?”

Long before biodiversity hotspots became buzzwords and conservation turned global, Sri Lanka’s language was already speaking through science — quietly, persistently, and across continents.

By Ifham Nizam

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Children first – even after a disaster

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However, the children and their needs may be forgotten after a disaster.

Do not forget that children will also experience fear and distress although they may not have the capacity to express their emotions verbally. It is essential to create child-friendly spaces that allow them to cope through play, draw, and engage in supportive activities that help them process their experiences in a healthy manner.

The Institute for Research & Development in Health & Social Care (IRD), Sri Lanka launched the campaign, titled “Children first,” after the 2004 Tsunami, based on the fundamental principle of not to medicalise the distress but help to normalise it.

The Island picture page

The IRD distributed drawing material and play material to children in makeshift shelters. Some children grabbed drawing material, but some took away play material. Those who choose drawing material, drew in different camps, remarkably similar pictures; “how the tidal wave came”.

The Island” supported the campaign generously, realising the potential impact of it.

The campaign became a popular and effective public health intervention.

“A public health intervention (PHI) is any action, policy, or programme designed to improve health outcomes at the population level. These interventions focus on preventing disease, promoting health, and protecting communities from health threats. Unlike individual healthcare interventions (treating individuals), which target personal health issues, public health interventions address collective health challenges and aim to create healthier environments for all.”

The campaign attracted highest attention of state and politicians.

The IRD continued this intervention throughout the protracted war, and during COVID-19.

The IRD quick to relaunch the “children first” campaign which once again have received proper attention by the public.

While promoting a public health approach to handling the situation, we would also like to note that there will be a significant smaller percentage of children and adolescents will develop mental health disorders or a psychiatric diagnosis.

We would like to share the scientific evidence for that, revealed through; the islandwide school survey carried out by the IRD in 2007.

During the survey, it was found that the prevalence of emotional disorder was 2.7%, conduct disorder 5.8%, hyperactivity disorder was 0.6%, and 8.5% were identified as having other psychiatric disorders. Absenteeism was present in 26.8%. Overall, previous exposure to was significantly associated with absenteeism whereas exposure to conflict was not, although some specific conflict-related exposures were significant risk factors. Mental disorder was strongly associated with absenteeism but did not account for its association with tsunami or conflict exposure.

The authors concluded that exposure to traumatic events may have a detrimental effect on subsequent school attendance. This may give rise to perpetuating socioeconomic inequality and needs further research to inform policy and intervention.

Even though, this small but significant percentage of children with psychiatric disorders will need specialist interventions, psychological treatment more than medication. Some of these children may complain of abdominal pain and headaches or other physical symptoms for which doctors will not be able to find a diagnosable medical cause. They are called “medically unexplained symptoms” or “somatization” or “bodily distress disorder”.

Sri Lanka has only a handful of specialists in child and adolescent psychiatric disorders but have adult psychiatrists who have enough experience in supervising care for such needy children. Compared to tsunami, the numbers have gone higher from around 20 to over 100 psychiatrists.

Most importantly, children absent from schools will need more close attention by the education authorities.

In conclusion, going by the principles of research dissemination sciences, it is extremely important that the public, including teachers and others providing social care, should be aware that the impact of Cyclone Ditwah, which was followed by major floods and landslides, which is a complex emergency impact, will range from normal human emotional behavioural responses to psychiatric illnesses. We should be careful not to medicalise this normal distress.

It’s crucial to recall an important statement made by the World Health Organisation following the Tsunam

Prof. Sumapthipala MBBS, DFM, MD Family Medicine, FSLCFP (SL), FRCPsych, CCST (UK), PhD (Lon)]

Director, Institute for Research and Development in Health and Social Care, Sri Lanka

Emeritus Professor of Psychiatry, School of Medicine, Faculty of Medicine & Health Sciences, Keele University, UK

Emeritus Professor of Global Mental Health, Kings College London

Secretary General, International society for Twin Studies 

Visiting Professor in Psychiatry and Biomedical Research at the Faculty of Medicine, Kotelawala Defence University, Sri Lanka

Associate Editor, British Journal Psychiatry

Co-editor Ceylon Medical Journal.

Prof. Athula Sumathipala

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