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Friends I made along the way, meeting in Colombo and on to Malaysia

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(Excerpted from Memories that linger: My Journey in the World of Disability by Padmani Mendis)

Barbara McNamee was from Jamaica. She became my friend when we met in the month of October in 1958 as student nurses at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital (ROH) in Birmingham, England. I have shared memories of our time together then in an earlier part of this memoir. We had been together for five years and three months. Mahin and Lyda both from Iran, then Persia were also with us.

The four of us became good friends during our first few days at the ROH. And we have remained close friends since then. In those first months, two calypso songs were particularly popular in the UK. They had just been released by the singer Harry Belafonte and were both about Jamaica. I enjoyed singing these to Barbara, especially when I saw that she was feeling a little low. One, “Island In The Sun” I mentioned a little earlier in this section. You may have heard the other “Jamaican Farewell”. They are available on YouTube. I occasionally send these to Barbara on WhatsApp just to remind her of the old days.

Barbara met Mike Rogers while she was at the ROH and he was a post-grad student at the University of Birmingham. They married soon after we completed our physiotherapy education. They had two children and spent the larger part of their lives in England.

Mahin left Iran much later to live in the USA and is now in Canada. She first had an Iranian husband and then an Egyptian one. Three stepsons living also in Toronto look out for her. Lyda also married an Englishman, Lewin Harris, and settled down in England. She passed on a few years ago. Barbara, Mahin and I still communicate regularly.

We last met five years ago. Mahin and I spent two weeks with Barbara in her home in Surrey, just outside London. Spent most of the time reminiscing with Barbara driving us around the picturesque Surrey countryside. Together with memorable meals in several old English Pubs. Much to the amusement of the other two, I always went for the Fish and Chips.

Following up in St. Lucia

There was every reason to believe that within this brief period CBR (Community Based Rehabilitation) had been well-established in St. Lucia. The country had plans to expand this programme.

One was able to reach the conclusion that the Manual had been an effective tool used by disabled people, their families and the Community Health Assistants. CHAs with a basic training of three months for their Primary Health Care work could with a further training of at least 12 days in a workshop situation and a further three weeks of field training and with regular and adequate support from a higher level carry out their rehabilitation tasks with disabled people successfully. The availability of second level support enhanced quality and coverage.

The Community Health Nursing Service or CHNS, recognising the value of the inputs from the two physiotherapists from the Victoria Hospital, intended to request the Ministry of Health for one of these therapists to be released to the CHNS. The CHNS was continuing its dialogue with the education sector to promote the inclusion of disabled children in local schools. They had started a conversation with employers regarding job opportunities for disabled youth and adults. And an information campaign to increase public participation in what was now a programme and no more a project.

I left St. Lucia confident that disabled people here had hope for the future.

Marcella Niles

But I cannot leave St. Lucia before including Marcella Niles in my story. The Community Health Nursing Service was her responsibility. As my counterpart she went everywhere with me. In Castries she drove me around herself in her own car. To go out of Castries we had access to a larger vehicle from the CHNS but often driven by Miss Niles herself. Marcella Niles was very proud of her island and quite rightly so.

She guided me to the most beautiful parts of St. Lucia. She would, whenever she could, take me through the town of Soufriere so that I could see the Pitons. And she always pointed them out to me – Big Piton and Small Piton, two tall volcanic spurs rising straight up from the sea, adjoining the coast. They were linked by some sort of a ridge.

On a few occasions when we had time to spare, she took me to see tropical rain forests which St. Lucia is well-known for. We in Sri Lanka have our own famous rain forest Sinharaja, which is a World Heritage Site. But these in St. Lucia were somehow different. Maybe had I gone deeper into our Sinharaja I would have found a similarity. In addition to the giant ferns and lush greenery, it was very, very wet all the time – as if a very slight rain was constantly falling. It was surprising that one could also see scrub forests in some parts of this small island.

For my stay in St. Lucia Marcella had found me accommodation in an Apartment Hotel, quite common in the Caribbean. This suited me well. It had a pool which none of the other residents appeared to use. So I had it to myself every evening after work.

After relaxing in the water, I would walk to the little shop at the bend in the road, not far down from me. There I would find something to cook for myself to eat with rice for the evening meal. May be some mixed vegetables or some fish. Whatever it was, it was tasty, cooked with St. Lucian curry powder. And always a luscious mango to follow. However good that mango was, it could not touch our delicious Jaffna mangoes for taste.

A Meeting in Sri Lanka

Before I move on from this phase of my journey in South America and the Caribbean, there was a meeting I must stop for. It was one I was called upon to organise – the WHO Interregional Consultation on CBR held in Colombo in June 1982.

WHO Interregional Consultation on CBR, 1982

It was almost three years since we had started work in the field. We felt the time was ripe to get the people who have been testing the Manual together to share experiences. Einar suggested that I organise the meeting in Colombo. Sri Lanka had also been participating in the field trial.

I was extremely fortunate and overjoyed to welcome to my own country so many friends I had made on my travels to their countries. Dr. Hindley-Smith asked for my help to organise a tour to places of historical interest and to the game parks. Others toured independently after the meeting was over. My country was, after all, a tourist attraction. And although I say it myself – it is beautiful.

When I had been in Jamaica, it had reminded me much of my own country. So much so that I had this in my thoughts. If ever, if ever I had to leave my motherland for some reason or another, I would settle down in Jamaica. That too was beautiful, particularly the northwest where I was, away from the tourist hot spot of Montego Bay. Not just the beaches and scenery, but more importantly, its people.

During our meeting Einar and Gunnel were guests in our home. This was not just enjoyable but also useful to have more time to spend in discussion and planning the next steps. For our meeting, 22 participants came together from all parts of the globe. Countries that had carried out field tests were Botswana, Burma, India (Kerala State), Mexico, Nigeria, Pakistan, Philippines, St. Lucia and Sri Lanka. There were also others who were invited as representatives of WHO, other UN organisations and NGOs and some as individuals.

After an exchange of experiences from these countries, they spent much time giving their suggestions in detail as to what revisions should be made in the WHO Manual. These were taken into account when the Manual was revised the following year. CBR had been born.

Back to Asia – Malaysia

My First Contact with Malaysia

The first time I went to Malaysia was in 1983 to represent WHO at the Seventh Asia & Pacific Conference of Rehabilitation International, known globally as RI. It was founded in 1922 as an organisation that led discussion on issues related to disability at a global level. The climax of its work was a World Congress held every four years. On my stopover in Mexico, I referred to Dr. Hindley-Smith telling me about his participation at the RI Congress in Ireland in 1969. It brought about the realisation in him of the extent of neglect of disabled people in developing countries.

At that Congress, RI was promoting new thinking on personnel required for rehabilitation. It was looking at disability as a charity-based concept. In the 1980s it was promoting interventions for people with disability to improve their quality of life in a social context. Then, early in this millennium when the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities had been approved, their interest evolved to the promotion of disability rights.

Correspondingly, CBR had been accepted by the World Health Assembly. Increasingly now, more countries were adopting this approach both for policy and implementation. My own CBR story is about the small part I played travelling from country to country assisting them to start putting policy into practice. Just planting a seed as it were. How that seed would germinate and into what kind of tree it would grow was left to be seen. But germinate it did and by the time I got to Malaysia I was amazed at the way CBR was maturing.

It was blending with the particular ethos of each country to meet the needs of its disabled people.Seventh Asia & Pacific Conference of Rehabilitation International, Kuala Lumpur, 1983 RI (Rehabilitation International), the world body had some regional branches. Every two years RI organised a meeting in one of its regions. This first one I was invited to was in the Asia Pacific Region.

I was a speaker at a Plenary Session on the second day of the conference. The speaker before me was Dr. Siti Hasmah binti Haji Mohamad Ali, wife of the Prime Minister of Malaysia who we know as Mahathir Mohamed.

The topic of her presentation was a rather general one, focusing on the family as a vital provider of care. I had an opportunity of speaking with her in the break that followed the panel discussions. She told me her particular interest at that time was improvement in the situation of rural women.

That is why she had agreed to participate at this conference. She felt the discussion we had would help to promote her cause. I learned later that she and her husband had met at Medical School. They had been married soon after they left university.

I had been invited to present a paper on “CBR as a Relevant Approach for Developing Countries’. I included in the paper my thoughts on why a new approach was necessary with data from Sri Lanka. I also included a précis of the approach with examples, that WHO had adopted assisting countries to develop and of how it had impacted the quality of life of individuals and families; and a few results with statistical data from three countries – Botswana, Mexico and Sri Lanka, in three continents; and mention of its relationship to Primary Health Care, which at that time provided an entry point with the infrastructure.

My conclusions were that, “The results to date indicate emphatically that the approach is suited to the needs of developing countries… The quality of results cannot be questioned – for where better to provide freedom of mobility, create independence in daily life activities and enable disabled people to participate in the mainstream of community life than in the environment of their own communities?”

“The integration of disabled children in existing local schools and the provision of income generating opportunities within their own communities has ensured for disabled people full participation with true integration, starting with the family. It has done away with the need for them to be transported to a new and strange environment to be rehabilitated”.

Is CBR a Medical Model?

These results above are those that critics argued made CBR a “Medical Model” propagated by WHO. Some said this was because CBR was concerned also with functional independence. I say that maximal functional independence is an indication of an individual’s health status, beyond a medical condition. Improvement in the health of an individual is a human right. Besides, even an individual’s functional independence is not possible without social change in the community the individual lives in.

My own finding and therefore my argument was that participation in community life be it educational, functional or economic, cannot happen without a change in community attitudes. And with that an acceptance of disabled people on the basis of equality. An approach that was at this time being called “the Social Model”. CBR, based on the responsibility of the community, brought about a social change.

But I also saw CBR go beyond a purely social foundation; it also extended to enabling disabled people enjoy the same opportunities and responsibilities as others in their communities, an approach that is now called “the Human Rights Model”.

The world of disability did not use the words “human rights” at that time. But this was CBR’s needs-based approach, enabling equality in all matters including human rights. What is important is that CBR was not, for instance an individual-based, service-based approach reaching out from centres in districts or elsewhere. In these instances, responsibility lay with those centres, not with the communities in which disabled people lived.

Introducing CBR to Malaysia

It was against this background that the Government of Malaysia requested WHO cooperation to initiate CBR. In response, WHO sent me there for three months from February to May 1994. The mandate for matters related to disability lay with the Ministry of Social Welfare.

Initial discussions were with the Secretary of this Ministry. We talked about what he expected from me and about how I would set about the task he had set me. I said that WHO’s advice to countries was that the Manual, “Training in the Community for People with Disabilities”, be used as a tool for empowering disabled people and families with the knowledge and skills they required to start any change. I said without this tool for empowerment translated into Bahasa Malaysia CBR would be difficult for me to initiate in three months.

The Secretary called together ten members of his senior office staff. He removed the cord that held the different modules of the Manual together and separated the modules into ten lots. Giving one lot to each of his staff he said, “Could you please translate these and let me have them back by Monday?” Typed and photocopied, a sufficient number of Manuals were available to us when we required them. Such was the dynamism of this man who led the Ministry of Social Welfare at that time. I thought to myself, with this leadership anything should be possible.

So far, in other countries I had introduced CBR at the grass roots, promoting the development of a system upwards to support it. The structure for CBR was as yet incomplete in those countries, because appropriate mid-level personnel were lacking. This was a serious constraint for ensuring effectiveness as well as for sustainability.

Here in Malaysia for the first time, I was introducing CBR within a support system which had responsibility for disability – the Social Welfare Ministry. The Ministry had Social Welfare Assistants or SWAs at district level. To support them were Social Welfare Officers or SWOs at state level. Among them would be mid-level workers. They required relevant knowledge and skills in CBR. They required also to have this task included in their job descriptions. Then the focal points for a CBR system would be in place at the two support levels.

It would be up to officials at these levels to build the horizontal linkages within and outside government at each level that would together provide communities with the support they required. In development jargon this was called multi-sectoral collaboration. In reality, it sometimes worked in bits and pieces, often it did not. Much work was required here globally.

Local Accommodation

During the three months that I spent in Malaysia I was to work in Batu Rakit in the State of Terengganu on the east coast. Batu Rakit was a “Mukim” or sub district just over a half-hour drive from Kuala Terengganu, the capital of the state.

Our teaching area was rural. It was a quiet fishing village with the appearance of serenity and tranquillity. I was fortunate to be given accommodation here in a kind of rest house run by the state. This was a simple building set in a large property scattered with very tall coconut trees. There were a few rooms and some common bathrooms and toilets. The female participants from other states were accommodated in this rest house with me. Other participants found lodging in homes in the area. Evening meals to all were provided at the rest house. Because of this the group found much time to get to know each other and to talk about areas of common interest including work.

I liked very much the local food that was served. It was simple. “Nasi” means rice which is the staple in every meal. Here it was white rice served with Malaysian “curry”. Curries were in no way like ours, but this is what the dishes were called in English.

They were cooked with what we may call a raw curry powder – turmeric, coriander, cumin, cardamom, cloves, cinnamon and ginger, with such condiments added in different proportions. As a result of these particular condiments, the taste was subtle quite unlike ours which tends to be spicy, even our white curries.

The rice was served with many different vegetables, and always fish from the village. My favourite Malaysian dish was nasi dagang. For special Malaysian dishes such as these, the rice is cooked in coconut milk, and it turns out rather like our milk rice or “kiributh”. Except that it is flavoured with pandan leaf or “rampe”.

The tastiest nasi dagang I had was served in the Hotel in Kuala Terengganu where I stayed for a few days before moving to Batu Rakit. It was served with fried sprats, shrimp sambol, a boiled egg and cucumber. What we eat as nasi lemak in Colombo or even the food in Kuala Lumpur is nothing like the Malaysian food I ate in Kuala Terengganu. There, food was very tasty with the subtle flavours of the food itself.

In Colombo I now eat Malaysian food with a rather spicy chicken curry, adapted to suit the local palate. In all my later visits to Kuala Lumpur staying in international hotels as I did, I was not able to find the original Malaysian food that I had enjoyed in the rest house in Batu Rakit.



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Quandary of Dengue: Some roving perspectives

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Sri Lanka is currently well and truly trapped in the strangling grip of a devastating and severely enhanced dengue outbreak. The numbers alone are staggering; over 44,000 cases have been recorded across the island so far this year, with the highest concentration systematically suffocating the Western, Southern, and Central provinces. Hospitals and healthcare providers are under extreme pressure, but the cold metrics of morbidity do not capture the true implications and dismay of this current wave. What has profoundly shaken the public consciousness and even sent a shudder through the medical community is a grim shift in the implications for the populace.

Dengue has always been quite a threat, looming over our Motherland from time to time. Yet for all that, historically, child deaths due to the virus were relatively rare in Sri Lanka, thanks to scrupulously adhering to robust clinical guidelines, as well as exceptional paediatric monitoring and management. This year, that safety net seems to be straining quite a bit at the edges and among the reported fatalities are a tragic number of children. The virus is moving faster, hitting harder, and exposing a terrifying reality, even stressing that our existing defence mechanisms are perhaps no longer totally sufficient to deal with the problem.

In response, public health authorities have deployed their traditional arsenal. Teams are busy with intensive surveillance, conducting house-to-house inspections, enforcing strict penalties for standing and stagnant water, and sending fogging machinery through the streets to blanket neighbourhoods in chemical mists. Yet, as case counts climb by nearly 50% week over week, an uncomfortable question must be asked: Are these traditional measures sufficient, or are they bordering on an exercise in futility?

The Illusion of the Fog: Why Our Current Strategy May Be Failing?

To understand why Sri Lanka might be in a tight corner, one must look closely at the enemy. Dengue is transmitted primarily by the Aedes aegypti mosquito, a highly adapted, urbanised insect. While Aedes aegypti is widely considered the primary culprit, Aedes albopictus (commonly known as the Asian tiger mosquito) plays a massive, highly dangerous role in Sri Lanka’s dengue transmission as well. In fact, the interplay between these two species is one of the biggest reasons why controlling dengue on the island is so incredibly difficult. These two vectors behave differently, breed in different places, and require distinct strategies to combat their well-recognised roles in the propagation of the disease that is dengue. Understanding how these two mosquito species split the territory could explain why a single controlling method might not always work across the board.

Aedes aegypti mosquitoes are strictly urban and indoor creatures. They live alongside humans inside houses, apartments, and in heavily built-up commercial areas. They rest on dark clothes in closets, under furniture, and behind curtains. They breed in artificial containers, clear, stagnant water in flower vases, plastic cups, concrete sumps, and overhead tanks. They prefer human blood almost exclusively and bite multiple people to get one full meal, thereby spreading the dengue virus rapidly within even a single household.

In contrast, Aedes albopictus is semi-urban and rural, thrives in vegetations, gardens, rubber plantations, and peri-urban areas where green spaces meet houses. The creature rests in shaded bushes, high grass, and low canopy foliage, as well as holes in trees, leaf axils, coconut shells, discarded tyres and trash. The biting behaviour of these mosquitoes is opportunistic. They bite humans but also feed on birds and domestic mammals, indicating that they can survive easily even when human density is low.

The traditional responses we rely on, most notably thermal fogging, are largely cosmetic public relations exercises rather than a totally effective vector control mechanism. Such fogging misses indoor resting sites, drives resistance, and stagnant water elimination fails against cryptic, microscopic breeding sites.

Fogging utilises “adulticides“, chemical sprays meant to kill flying mosquitoes. However, Aedes aegypti is a domestic creature; it rests indoors, hidden in the dark recesses of closets, under beds, and behind curtains. A fogging process achieves very little penetration into these indoor sanctuaries. Furthermore, over-reliance on these pyrethroid-based chemical sprays has accelerated insecticide resistance, effectively rendering the chemicals useless over time.

Similarly, while the National Dengue Control Unit (NDCU), to their eternal credit, aggressively pursues the elimination of visible standing water, the sheer adaptability of the mosquito outpaces manual human labour in trying to eliminate the breeding places of the vectors. Aedes eggs can remain dormant in dry containers for months, hatching the moment a drop of water touches them. In dense, urbanised areas like Colombo and Gampaha, microscopic breeding sites, from the rim of a discarded plastic bottle cap to the base of an indoor potted plant, are impossible to completely police.

If we continue to rely solely on manual cleaning and chemical fogging, we are fighting a twenty-first-century climate-driven crisis with mid-twentieth-century tools. We must look beyond our borders to see how global science is shifting the paradigm of mosquito control.

The Biological Frontier: Insects fighting Mosquitoes

When searching for international alternatives, many look towards the United States, where vector control districts manage complex mosquito populations across diverse ecosystems. A common point of curiosity is the historical use of “mosquito-eating insects.”

In the US, biological control has long featured predatory species. While some point to insects like dragonfly nymphs or giant non-biting mosquito larvae (Toxorhynchites, which actively prey on other mosquito larvae), the most widely used traditional biological agent in American municipal water systems is actually the Gambusia affinis, commonly known as the “mosquitofish.” A single one of these surface-feeding fish can devour hundreds of mosquito larvae a day.

However, American vector management has largely evolved past simply dumping predatory fish into ponds. The true modern frontier in global mosquito control relies on advanced biological and genetic interventions that turn the mosquitoes against themselves.

1. The Wolbachia Revolution

Perhaps the most successful international intervention against dengue is the introduction of Wolbachia-infected mosquitoes. Wolbachia is a naturally occurring bacterium found in up to sixty per cent of all insect species, but crucially, not naturally present in Aedes aegypti.

When scientists introduce Wolbachia into Aedes mosquitoes in a laboratory and release them into the wild, two extraordinary things happen: –

· Viral Suppression: The bacterium competes with viruses like dengue, Zika, and chikungunya inside the mosquito’s body, making it incredibly difficult for the virus to replicate. If the virus cannot replicate, the mosquito cannot transmit it to a human.

· Population Replacement:

Through a mechanism called cytoplasmic incompatibility, when a Wolbachia-carrying male mates with a wild female that does not carry the bacteria, her eggs do not hatch. If a Wolbachia female mates with a wild male, her offspring will carry the bacteria. Over time, the local mosquito population is entirely replaced by harmless, non-transmission-capable mosquitoes.

In comprehensive global trials, such as those conducted by the World Mosquito Programme in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, the introduction of Wolbachia mosquitoes led to a staggering 77% reduction in dengue incidence and an 86% reduction in dengue-related hospitalisations.

2. Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) and Genetic Modifications

Other countries, including parts of the US (such as the Florida Keys) and Brazil, have turned to genetic engineering. Using the Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) or advanced genetic variants (like those developed by Oxitec), millions of bio-engineered male mosquitoes are released into the wild. Because male mosquitoes do not bite humans, and they feed exclusively on nectar, thereby posing zero risk to the public. These males mate with wild females, but pass on a self-limiting gene that causes the female offspring to die in the larval stage before they can ever mature, bite, or transmit disease. This results in a drastic collapse of the localised vector population without the use of even a single drop of toxic chemical pesticide.

Moving beyond the Status Quo: A Blueprint for Sri Lanka

The current dilemma in Sri Lanka is a classical gridlock: we are deploying immense physical effort and economic capital into vector control measures that yield diminishing returns, while our clinical wards fill with critically ill patients. If we are to break this cycle, our public health policy must undergo a rapid structural evolution

We cannot instantly replicate the multimillion-dollar genetic laboratories of the West, but we can modernise our strategy immediately by adopting a highly targeted, multi-tiered approach.

Comprehensive Vector Management Strategy

The following are some thoughts that need to be carefully evaluated in a venture towards getting things under control.

· Shift from Adulticides to Target Microbial Larvicides Immediate Phase

Cease the reliance on sweeping chemical thermal fogging. Instead, deploy specialised microbial larvicides such as Bacillus thuringiensis israelensis (Bti). Bti is a naturally occurring soil bacterium that, when ingested by mosquito larvae, destroys their digestive tracts. It is completely non-toxic to humans, pets, and other aquatic life, and can be distributed via localised backpack sprayers or drones into inaccessible urban sumps.

· Scale Up Localised Wolbachia Trials Intermediate Phase

Sri Lanka has previously initiated small-scale, localised pilot releases of Wolbachia mosquitoes in select urban pockets. Given the severity of the 2026 outbreak, these programmes must be aggressively scaled up into an industrial-level national initiative. Public-private partnerships must be leveraged to establish sustainable, high-capacity mosquito-rearing facilities locally.

· Implement Digital Ovitrap Surveillance Continuous Integration

Replace manual, retroactive searching with predictive digital mapping. Deploy networks of smart “ovitraps” (oviposition traps) across high-burden provinces. These traps monitor egg-laying rates in real-time, allowing automated data systems to predict a spike in the adult mosquito population weeks before an actual clinical outbreak occurs, enabling preventative targeting.

The Cost of Inaction

Maintaining our current trajectory is not a neutral choice; it is an endorsement of escalating mortality. The 2026 outbreak has proven that the ecological dynamics of dengue have changed, fuelled by changing weather patterns and urban density. Our public health response must change with it.

The heart-breaking loss of young lives in this current surge must serve as a stark wake-up call. We must look at the international landscape, embrace the biological innovations that have saved lives across the globe, and transition from a policy of panic-driven reaction to one of scientific eradication. It is no longer just a matter of cleaning our drains; it is a matter of upgrading our science.

Why Aedes albopictus Makes the Sri Lankan Crisis Harder

In Sri Lanka, the geographic landscape transitions quickly from dense concrete cities to lush, tropical vegetation. This creates the perfect environment for both species to thrive simultaneously.

· The Surveillance Blindspot: When health authorities focus heavily on checking indoor water storage and concrete drains in cities, they can completely miss the massive Aedes albopictus populations breeding in the surrounding vegetation, suburban gardens, and rural homesteads of the Southern and Central provinces.

· The Failure of Indoor Fogging:

While indoor residual spraying or targeted indoor fogging might hit Aedes aegypti, it has virtually no effect on Aedes albopictus, which spends its life cycle outdoors in the bushes.

· Climate Resilience:

Aedes albopictus eggs are remarkably tolerant of colder temperatures and varied environments. This allows the vector to push higher into the mountainous terrains of the Central Province, bringing dengue to areas that historically saw very few cases.

To truly bring down the case numbers in a severely enhanced outbreak, public health interventions must be dual-targeted: addressing the indoor, urban threat of Aedes aegypti while simultaneously tackling the outdoor, ecological stronghold of Aedes albopictus. We cannot sit back on our laurels of the past. We need to move forward resolutely.

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ANURADHAPURA ANTHEM c.1893

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Anuradhapura. Image courtesy Central Cultural Fund

R. W. Ievers, who wrote this poem, was the Government Agent of the North Central Province during 1884, 1886, and 1890. He is the author of the Manual of the North Central Province (1899) and a half dozen published reports on the life and practices in the Province. Before his death, he shared it with his good friend H.C.P. Bell, the Archaeological Commissioner of Ceylon at the time. In 1917, Bell had it published in the Times of Ceylon – Christmas Number. Since then, it remained unknown for 109 years, until Ievers’s great-grandson, Turtle Bunbury, historian and author of Living in Sri Lanka (2006) with James Fennell, tipped me off about its source – H.C.P. Bell: Archaeologist of Ceylon and the Maldives (1993), written by Bell’s granddaughters Bethia N. Bell and Heather M. Bell.

THE ANTHEM

Anuradhapura! City grand and vast,

Lanka’s famous Capital, in ages of the past:

In the Mahawansa the story has been told

Of thy palaces, and temples, and pinnacles of gold.

Hail! then hail! to the worth of a bygone day,

Hail! all hail! to the relics of kingly sway

Hail to thee, Fair City, glorious in decay,

Hail! thrice hail! Forever and for aye!

Si monumentum quaeris

– cast your gaze around

Ruined fanes and dagobas everywhere abound

Alas! for glory faded, for erstwhile beauty sped

For hierarchs and heroes, long numbered with the dead

Hail! then hail!…

Great Ruwanaveli Seya, once fairest of the fair,

The splendour of thy palmy days has melted into air;

And like Imperial Caesar now ‘dead and turned into clay’,

Thy sacred bricks ‘may stop a hole to keep the wind away.’

Note by Tillakaratne:

Since 1873, Bhikku Naranvita Sumanasara has been doing conservation work on this stupa. In 1876, Governor William Gregory, after visiting the work site, wrote that its conservation was not just a religious work but a great National Monument.

See ‘Bayagiri’ massive – ‘Fearless Mount’ forsooth – Centre once of schism rank, from ‘Great Vihara’ truth.

Patched up by prison labour, anew it flaunts on high

A ‘hideous excrescence’ athwart a tranquil sky.

Note by H. C. P. Bell

: T. N. Christie, Planting Member at the time protested in the Legislative Council against the abortive “restoration” by prison labour of the Abhayagiri Dagaba, dubbing its truncated pinnacle, half restored, a “hideous excrescence”.

Jetawanarama, Great Sena’s priestly boon

Comely shape and giddy height will crumble all too soon;

Where forest trees and chequered shade a peaceful picture lend,

From cruel axe and ruthless spade, may gracious Heaven defend.

Note by H. C. P. Bell:

Two decades after these poems were written, the surrounding area of the Jetawanarama was still covered in forest, and the Atamasthana Committee conditionally allowed a monk to clear a limited number of trees. But not a tree remained unfelled, contrary to what the monk was authorized to do.

Thuparama graceful, in outline clear and bold,

Begirt with column chaste and slim, a gem in the ring of gold

To thee pertains high honour a pious people gave – The tomb of Sanghamitta, and Prince Mahinda’s grave.

Note by

H. C. P. Bell: The ruins are pointed out, wrongly, as the tradional tombs of Arahat Mahinda and Sanghamitta Theranee.

With bricks and mortar bolstered up, behold the Sacred Bo;

To some – misguided mortals – ‘tis but a ‘bo-gas’ show.

Where humble Mirisveti a monarch’s fad recalls,

Lo! Royal Siam’s silver now builds its futile walls.

Note by H. C. P. Bell:

According to Mahawansa, Mirisavetiya was so named after King Dutugemunu’s compunction at forgetting chillies (miris) in his alms giving to monks on one occasion. The restoration work on the Mirisavetiya began under the Ceylon Government, with funds provided by the King of Siam. When the money flow began to cease, work also ceased, and bats began to frequent the holed structure.

What need to tell of sculptures, of ‘pokunas’ galore,

Of balustrades and Yogi stones and half a hundred more,

Of Brazen Palace spacious, with gilt-roofed storeys dight –

A modern race more ‘brazen’ would desecrate each site.

For midst these sacred ruins of shrines and cloistered hall,

A reckless generation disports with little balls,

Whilst ‘Parliamentary language’ and imprecations deep

Disturb the peaceful solitude where saintly Rahats sleep.

Note by H. C. P. Bell:

After European residents, old city Anuradhapura in the late 19th century, the area still being cleared between Ruwanveli Seya and Thuparama, was used a ‘golf links’. Ievers did not like the area used as a playground:

Iconoclasts and vandals have had their little day;

No more shall ancient pillars to culverts find their way.

No more a watchful Government such sacrilege condones –

One may not meddle with the gods, nor tamper with the stones.

Anuradhapura! Thy glory shall revive;

Yhu [sic] sons shall swarm within thee like bees about a hive.

The effort of the present for past neglect atones;

New breath of life resuscitates this vale of driest bones.

Composed by R. W. Ievers
(1850-1905)
Introduced by Lokubanda Tillakaratne

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Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation: Restoring Mobility, Dignity and Hope Across Sri Lanka

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Mahawa Factory

For thousands of Sri Lankans living with limb loss and physical disabilities, access to quality rehabilitation services remains a significant challenge. Yet, for more than three decades, our organisation has quietly transformed lives through innovation, compassion and community-based care. The Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited (MRFGL), supported by the Meththa Foundation-UK and in partnership with the Manitha Neyam Trust, the LEBARA Foundation and the Oblates of Mary Immaculate in Jaffna, emerged as one of Sri Lanka’s most effective voluntary rehabilitation service providers, restoring mobility, independence and dignity to some of the country’s most vulnerable citizens.

The Foundation’s roots stretch back to 1994, when a group of expatriate Sri Lankan professionals in the United Kingdom recognised the severe shortage of rehabilitation services available to disabled persons in Sri Lanka. Drawing upon their expertise in rehabilitation medicine and allied healthcare professions, they established the Meththa Foundation-UK with a simple but powerful vision: to provide affordable, high-quality prosthetic and rehabilitation services to those who needed them most.

Below knee artificial limb Designed and made at Mahawa

What began as an effort to recycle and repurpose high-quality prosthetic components donated by the UK’s National Health Service has evolved into a comprehensive rehabilitation network serving communities across the island.

Clinical services commenced in Sri Lanka in 1995 through a mobile outreach programme that initially supported injured soldiers and later expanded to civilians affected by conflict and disability. The majority of them were victims of land mines. In 2010, the Sri Lankan arm of the organisation was formally registered as the Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited, strengthening its ability to deliver sustainable services nationwide.

Today, the Foundation operates four modern rehabilitation centres located in Mahawa, Mankulam, Balapitiya and Kilinochchi. These centres provide prosthetic and orthotic services, posture and mobility support, limb repairs, and rehabilitation assistance to patients from diverse social and economic backgrounds.

Recognising that many disabled individuals live in remote areas with limited access to healthcare, Meththa Foundation also established a mobile outreach service in 2011. Through a successful “Hub and Spoke” model, rehabilitation teams travel regularly to underserved communities, ensuring that patients are not denied care simply because of distance or financial hardship.

The scale of the Foundation’s work is impressive. During 2025 alone, the organisation recorded approximately 2,000 patient contacts, including the provision of 350 new artificial limbs, 850 limb repairs and around 800 other rehabilitation devices. For many beneficiaries, these interventions represent far more than medical treatment; they offer a pathway back to employment, education and social participation.

Innovation has become a hallmark of the Foundation’s approach. Through an active research and development programme, MRFGL has developed affordable prosthetic technologies specifically suited to Sri Lankan conditions. Among its achievements is the development of a modular below-knee artificial limb system manufactured largely from locally sourced materials. The Foundation has also designed low-cost prosthetic knee components that significantly reduce the financial burden on patients while maintaining quality and functionality. These developments are funded by generous International Grants facilitated by affluent members of the Meththa Foundation-UK. Service users are encouraged to donate whatever they can but for those who cannot, which is a majority the services are entirely free.

These innovations not only make rehabilitation more affordable but also strengthen local manufacturing capabilities and reduce dependence on imported components.

Equally important is the Foundation’s commitment for building local expertise. Recognising the shortage of trained rehabilitation professionals in Sri Lanka, Meththa Foundation

established an apprentice-based vocational training programme that recruits and trains young people as prosthetists, orthotists and rehabilitation technicians. Several locally trained staff members are now employed across the Foundation’s centres, helping to create a sustainable workforce for the future.

The organisation’s work has attracted growing recognition within the healthcare sector. Discussions have already taken place with health authorities regarding the potential use of Meththa-designed prosthetic components within Government hospitals. Such collaboration could significantly expand access to affordable rehabilitation services throughout the country.

Beyond its clinical achievements, the Foundation’s impact is measured in restored confidence and renewed independence. Surveys conducted among beneficiaries indicate that many educated amputees successfully return to productive lives after receiving rehabilitation support. However, the findings also highlight an ongoing challenge among poorer and less educated amputees, many of whom struggle to access follow-up care due to transportation difficulties and financial constraints.

To address this issue, the organisation hopes to -expand its mobile services and community outreach programmes. Additional funding would allow rehabilitation teams to reach isolated communities more frequently, ensuring that vulnerable patients continue to receive the support they need.

Operating on an annual expenditure of approximately Rs. 30 million in Sri Lanka, supplemented by overseas fundraising and donations, the Foundation remains heavily reliant on the partnership of charitable trusts such as the Manitha Neyam Trust and LEBARA Foundation and generosity of individual well-wishers. Every contribution directly supports the provision of artificial limbs, mobility devices, training programmes and outreach services for those who might otherwise be left behind.

As Sri Lanka continues to strengthen its healthcare and social welfare systems, organisations such as the Meththa Foundation demonstrate how innovation, volunteerism and dedication can create lasting social

By helping individuals regain mobility and independence, the Foundation is not merely providing artificial limbs—it is rebuilding lives and restoring hope.

For many “beneficiaries, every step they take is a testament to the life-changing work of the Meththa foundation

www.meththafoundation-sl-uk.org

Chairman’s WhatsApp contact number +94 77 788 6119

Prof S P Lamabadusurira, Chairman and Dr B Panagamuwa, ✍️
First Trustee

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