Features

Hobgoblins and Paranormal Encounters in Pohnpei, Micronesia

Published

1 year ago

2024/12/22

by Jayantha Perera

I retired from ADB in April 2011. ADB appointed me as a staff consultant without waiting for the mandatory ‘cooling off’ 12-month period expired. A memo signed by the President, a Vice President, and two Directors Generals of ADB stated why I should be re-recruited immediately. It stated, “Mr. Perera’s experience as a senior and highly respected member of ADB as a safeguard specialist makes him ideal for this position … He is a well-respected ADB staff and was one of ADB’s leading experts in the environment, involuntary resettlement, and indigenous people’s development issues; he was the only international staff member at ADB who had technical knowledge and expertise in all three safeguard areas……..”

One of my major assignments as a consultant was to conduct training in 10 Pacific countries for senior government officials on how to address social and environmental issues to meet ADB’s safeguard policy standards. Fiji, Samoa, Pohnpei, Tonga, Cook Islands and Marshall Islands were among the countries chosen. Each country offered its rich culture, natural beauty, and the opportunity to meet people with vivid personalities and experience paranormal encounters. Pohnpei, an island state in the Pacific, etched a dazzling world I will never forget.

Pohnpei and three island states form the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM) in the western Pacific Ocean. Pohnpei is the largest island in FSM, with a land area of 335 sq. kilometres. The other three states are Yap, Chuuk, and Kosrae. Pohnpei State also owns several small islands in the vast Pacific Ocean.

Pohnpei means ‘stone altar.’ Presumably, it refers to a large stone platform on the island. The island’s population is about 37,000. Its terrain is mountainous and jungle-covered. It is one of the wettest places on Earth, with an annual rainfall exceeding 7,600 mm. A circular, tarred, narrow road connects dispersed towns. Access to the interior, especially to hilly areas, is challenging.

The people are proud of their history and boast about Nan Madol, an ancient city-kingdom. Its civilisation flourished for 700 years, from the 10th century to the 17th century. Its downfall began with the arrival of Spanish sailors in the early 19th century, followed by whalers, traders, missionaries, educators, and colonisers. After the Spaniards, the Germans occupied it. During the Second World War, the Japanese captured it, and the USA took it from the Japanese in the late 1940s.

Locals suffered severely when colonisers plundered their treasures and destroyed cultural artefacts. Spaniards brought cholera and smallpox to Pohnpei, nearly annihilating the local population. The Japanese not only looted local treasures but also enslaved people. During the Second World War, Japanese warlords used local slaves to move heavy cannons to strategic mountaintops. Most of the workers died because of starvation and illnesses.

In 1986, Pohnpei became an independent state within FSM. The five traditional small kingdoms on the island constitute independent Pohnpei, and the Pohnpei State Council represents them. Kolonia is the capital of Pohnpei State, and Palikir is the capital of FSM. The two cities are adjacent to each other. The local kingdoms occasionally clash with the State Council on matters of development. About 10 years ago, for example, the State Council tried establishing a casino complex in the territory of a traditional kingdom. Its king opposed the proposal and took his protest to an international forum for arbitration.

English is the official language, and people consider themselves non-immigrant citizens of the United States. In other words, the USA guarantees they can become US citizens whenever they want. The currency in the country is the US dollar. Postage is paid in US$, and postal stamps are US postal stamps. A taxi charges one dollar to travel within Kolonia.

Fortunately, I got a seat on United Airlines from Honolulu to Kolonia. The Filipino hotel manager told me to wait a few hours before occupying my room. When I asked him why, he said hotel guests who had left in the morning might return if their flight was cancelled. The hotel’s policy is to accommodate such stranded travellers on a priority basis in the rooms they had occupied earlier.

I was tired, hungry, and sleepy. The manager gave me a hot tuna sandwich and coffee at the restaurant. He told me he could give me a room with a door facing the jungle behind the hotel. I feared small insects and reptiles might creep into my room after sunset. The incessant rain added a gloomy atmosphere to my fear. I could hear water gushing down a drain. Rainwater trickled down from the eves of the roof, flooding the narrow corridor in front of the room and making it slippery.

I moved into the room and slept several hours. When I woke up, it was dark and still raining. I did not know how to go to the restaurant. There was no telephone in my room. I was nervous about going to the bathroom. When I opened the tap in the bathroom, it took about five minutes to see clear water. I was reluctant to pull the shower curtain. When I pulled it, a six-legged, black, long, gecko-like creature was in the bathtub. The bathtub was cracked and dirty and covered with dead leaves. The room’s light bulb was weak, and the bathroom was not lit up to see what else was waiting there to meet me. I regretted my decision to occupy an outer room.

The manager came to take me to dinner. He had a strong flashlight and a large umbrella. I asked him about possibly moving to a room inside the hotel. But by then, the hotel was fully occupied. The manager told a Filipina woman to clean my room again and to keep a heater in it. I insisted that the bedsheets and pillows should also be changed. When I returned to my room after supper, it looked neat and smelled good. The gecko-like creatures had disappeared.

I had a free weekend in Pohnpei before leaving for Honolulu. The hotel manager suggested I hire his four-wheel drive Jeep and travel around the island. He charged me $100 for the trip, which included a driver-cum-guide, a lunch box, snacks, and soft drinks. He advised me to carry one-dollar bills with me to pay local taxes. I changed a 50-dollar note for one-dollar and five-dollar bills. The bills were dirty and discoloured; some were as hard as cardboard.

The Jeep was a rickety old van without a spare wheel. It spluttered dark, unburned diesel, and its engine noise was unbearable. Roger, the jeep driver, was a local young man with long hair and a ferocious-looking black beard. He carried a big, heavy knife. The hotel manager handed him food boxes and an umbrella.

I thought Roger might sacrifice me to a native god by cutting my neck at a remote place. I had read on Google about human sacrifices to gods on the island. I wished I had invited another hotel guest to accompany me, but it was too late. Roger promised to show me places that foreign visitors rarely visit. His offer made me more nervous. I told him that I should return to the hotel before 5 p.m.

Roger drove the old Jeep with care. He stopped the Jeep in front of churches to talk to his friends who came for the Sunday mass. Sometimes, he offered them a ride in the Jeep without asking me. At a church, at least 10 people entered the Jeep, and two sat next to me in the front seat, pushing me onto the gear shift. They were fat people dressed in large white shirts and baggy blue jeans. They had unshaven faces and unwashed mouths. They spoke English. They invited me to visit their church and to join them for a communal lunch. I politely declined the offer by saying I was on a tight travel programme and should return to Kolonia early.

Later, I visited a small Christian church. The church had a neat front yard, and a local artist had painted beautiful murals of the genesis and the crucifixion. I could see some well-thumbed prayer books and hymn books on a small table covered with an embroidered white tablecloth. The small board on the table invited donations. One could donate money by dropping dollar bills or cents into a small glass box, which a small padlock secured.

Several people were in the church, wearing their Sunday best. Men wore European clothes, and women wore long white dresses with beautiful shoes. Some of them had heavy makeup. All adult women wore head covers. Many devotees, especially the women, carried rosaries in their hands.

People sat in circles by the road and ate from large metal pots. Roger explained that Christians do not work on Sundays except for attending mid-morning service. They cook on Saturday and partook of it on Sunday after the church service. Pork was the main dish. Raw tuna fish competed with fried pork to be the best food item. Someone told me they had learned how to raise pigs and cook pork dishes from Filipino friends whose ancestors came with the Spaniards as cooks and servants.

Suddenly, Roger drove off the main road, saying he wanted to show me the statue of Henry Nanpie. The figure was about 100 metres from a protestant church and was on an elevated stone dais. I thought it was built of steel with a hollow interior. Henry was in an elite tailcoat with a walking stick in his right hand. Roger told me that Henry had lived in Pohnpei in the late 19th century and early 20th century. He was the son of a local army commander. His mother was an English woman – the daughter of an English beachcomber.

Henry inherited lots of land from his powerful father. Then, he wanted to acquire land from another local kingdom. Henry visited the kingdom’s palace carrying a loaded gun and a bag of goodies. He took the weapon to kill the king and the goodies to bribe palace servants to get their allegiance. When he saw the king in an inner palace chamber, he tried to kill the king. But his gun misfired. Then Henry aimed the weapon at a flowerpot and pulled the trigger. The bullet went through the flowerpot and damaged the wall behind it.

Henry cunningly claimed that he had supernatural powers and could stop a gun from firing a bullet. He explained to the king that before he aimed the weapon at the king, he had “charmed” the gun. Because of the charm, the gun misfired. After removing the charm from the gun, a bullet fired from it smashed the flowerpot. The king was amazed and convinced himself of Henry’s supernatural powers. The king asked him to be the kingdom’s protector offering him a mansion and a vast stretch of land.

Henry opened a large supply shop to supply food, water, oil, and labour to whaling ships in the Pacific. He used his new wealth to add more land to his estate. In Pohnpei, he established protestant groups and spread Western cultural practices and beliefs among the locals through them. Even today, local people consider him a semi-god who brought wealth and salvation to them and connected them with the outside world. Roger sang a folk song about Henry, which depicted Henry as a local god. A copper plaque beside his statue indicates that he still has admirers to spread, invent and reinvent myths about him.

Roger was hurrying me to go to the ruined capital of Nan Madol Kingdom. He told me that the kingdom was on the banks of a large lagoon connected to the eastern shoreline. It was the only ancient city ever built atop a coral reef. In 2016, the UN declared it a World Heritage Site. We drove on a narrow gravel road and parked the Jeep. From there, we walked about two kilometres to Nan Madol. We walked through private lands, and landowners charged a fee for crossing their land. Some landlords collected a dollar or two, but one landlord demanded seven dollars.

We entered a rocky trail from the last property. The land rapidly became marshy, and we walked on an elevated narrow bund. Both sides of the bund were inundated, and walking on it was risky. Henry dexterously cut down weeds and plants that obstructed the path. He wanted me to follow him closely but did not say why. The thought that he might sacrifice me to a local god began looming in my mind. I did not look around as I wanted to keep my eyes on him and the bund. He walked fast, brandishing his knife as if in a frenzy.

The narrow bund that stretched through a grotesque jungle of mangroves looked never-ending. I thought that spirits were watching and following me. I tried to avoid looking at large trees because I thought they were beckoning me. Some tree trunks, I thought, turned into hobgoblins. I remembered reading how funny elves resort to mischievous acts towards human beings who encroach on their territories.

Suddenly, I felt some invisible force pulling me back. I could not see Roger. I thought that I got lost among the mangroves forever. I saw the shallow water in marshy fields swelling to engulf me. I stopped walking. I thought how silly I was to think about bizarre things. Then Roger returned and asked me whether I had seen anything or anybody. I told him that some trees had tried to talk to me and were making faces at me. He said that many visitors had similar supernatural encounters. Roger explained that Pohnpiens treated the ruins at Nan Madol as sacred. They also knew various spirits haunt the place. The spirits came out at night, but a few hovered around during the daytime to harass visitors. Roger gave me several small, polished stones connected in a string. It reminded me of the rosaries that churchgoers had in their hands. He said that the string would fend off evil spirits. I then remembered my grandmother, who gave me my first rosary when I was seven, advising me to carry it with me to protect myself from evil forces.

We arrived at a stagnant shallow canal from where we could see the temple entrance. To reach the temple, we crossed a shallow canal. There were several decayed logs in the canal, and we had to push them aside to cross it. About 50 metres from the canal were the elegant stone walls three to five metres high. Just under a stone arch was a conduit from a table-flat wall top where, presumably, human sacrifices were conducted. According to Roger, the blood of those victims trickled down from the wall top to the main entrance through the conduit, where priests performed rituals to appease gods. Many city outer walls remain intact, although mangroves have engulfed them.

Local people believe twin brothers, who were sorcerers, built Nan Madol. They came to Pohnpei from another island in a large canoe to build an altar where they could perform ancestor worship. The legend is that the two brothers levitated large stones with the help of a flying dragon and built the entire city in three years. They transported basalt columns from a faraway island. Most of the columns are now under shallow water in the lagoon.

The temple consists of about 90 rectangular islets linked by narrow channels. Each islet had a coral-filled platform. Nan Madol means “within the intervals,” and the “intervals” are the complex canal grid. It is unclear who lived on islets, but locals believe priests who performed rituals at the altar lived in single-house units built on islets.

There were reserved locations among the islets for priests to feed turtle innards to a sacred eel who lived in a deep well. After feeding the eel, priests shared the rest of the turtle as a sacrament. To this day, eels are considered holy and are never killed or eaten.

The main enclosure is a large stone chamber with hundreds of human bones. About 15 years ago, several German archaeologists dusted and rearranged the bones to examine their age. That night, one archaeologist died in his hotel room in Kolonia, and the other fell gravely ill. Roger said his ancestors were unhappy when foreigners excavated and labelled their bones. They, as spirits, protect the monuments and punish anyone who disturbs them.

Roger’s father and two uncles had seen several light beams starting from the temple’s main altar late one night. The light beams travelled across the sea to faraway islands and large stars. When I asked Roger if he would camp at Nan Madol after sunset to watch the light beams, he said he would not risk meeting his ancestors! He advised me not to talk about them as they were holy spirits with enormous powers and could harm us in their domain.

We spent two hours walking around the temple. The shallow sea and the lagoon behind the ruins were very picturesque. We tried to count the heaps of basalt rafts submerged in the lagoon. When we decided to leave Nan Madol, I felt I could not move. I was unsure whether the feeling came from my fear of hobgoblins or the perplexity in my mind. I told Roger to walk with me to the Jeep. He walked ahead of me, occasionally checking whether I was following him. I tried to walk fast without looking at the trees I had seen earlier. I felt a powerful, unseen force pulling me backwards. I imagined a tree with strange roots moving towards me. The gushing winds created a bizarre atmosphere. I felt I had not left the ruins, so I called Roger and asked him to walk with me. We plodded to the Jeep from the ruins. He reassured me that the spirits would not follow us. I was glad to leave Phonpei the following day.

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Features

Relief without recovery

Published

20 hours ago

2026/03/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

A US airstrike on an Iranian oil storage facility

The escalating conflict in the Middle East is of such magnitude, with loss of life, destruction of cities, and global energy shortages, that it is diverting attention worldwide and in Sri Lanka, from other serious problems. Barely four months ago Sri Lanka experienced a cyclone of epic proportions that caused torrential rains, accompanied by floods and landslides. The immediate displacement exceeded one million people, though the number of deaths was about 640, with around 200 others reported missing. The visual images of entire towns and villages being inundated, with some swept away by floodwaters, evoked an overwhelming humanitarian response from the general population.

When the crisis of displacement was at its height there was a concerted public response. People set up emergency kitchens and volunteer clean up teams fanned out to make flooded homes inhabitable again. Religious institutions, civil society organisations and local communities worked together to assist the displaced. For a brief period the country witnessed a powerful demonstration of social solidarity. The scale of the devastation prompted the government to offer generous aid packages. These included assistance for the rebuilding of damaged houses, support for building new houses, grants for clean up operations and rent payments to displaced families. Welfare centres were also set up for those unable to find temporary housing.

The government also appointed a Presidential Task Force to lead post-cyclone rebuilding efforts. The mandate of the Task Force is to coordinate post-disaster response mechanisms, streamline institutional efforts and ensure the effective implementation of rebuilding programmes in the aftermath of the cyclone. The body comprises a high-level team, led by the Prime Minister, and including cabinet ministers, deputy ministers, provincial-level officials, senior public servants, representing key state institutions, and civil society representatives. It was envisaged that the Task Force would function as the central coordinating authority, working with government agencies and other stakeholders to accelerate recovery initiatives and restore essential services in affected regions.

Demotivated Service

However, four months later a visit to one of the worst of the cyclone affected areas to meet with affected families from five villages revealed that they remained stranded and in a state of limbo. Most of these people had suffered terribly from the cyclone. Some had lost their homes. A few had lost family members. Many had been informed that the land on which they lived had become unsafe and that they would need to relocate. Most of them had received the promised money for clean up and some had received rent payments for two months. However, little had happened beyond this. The longer term process of rebuilding houses, securing land and restoring livelihoods has barely begun. As a result, families who had already endured the trauma of disaster, now face prolonged uncertainty about their future. It seems that once again the promises made by the political leadership has not reached the ground.

A government officer explained that the public service was highly demotivated. According to him, many officials felt that they had too much work piled upon them with too little resources to do much about it. They also believed that they were underpaid for the work they were expected to carry out. In fact, there had even been a call by public officials specially assigned to cyclone relief work to go on strike due to complaints about their conditions of work. This government official appreciated the government leadership’s commitment to non corruption. But he noted the irony that this had also contributed to a demotivation of the public service. This was on the unjustifiable basis that approving and implementing projects more quickly requires an incentive system.

Whether or not this explanation fully captures the situation, it points to an issue that the government needs to address. Disaster recovery requires a proactive public administration. Officials need to reach out to affected communities, provide clear information and help them navigate the complex procedures required to access assistance. At the consultation with cyclone victims this was precisely the concern that people raised. They said that government officers were not proactive in reaching out to them. Many felt they had little engagement with the state and that the government officers did not come to them. This suggests that the government system at the community level could be supported by non-governmental organisations that have the capacity and experience of working with communities at the grassroots.

In situations such as this the government needs to think about ways of motivating public officials to do more rather than less. It needs to identify legitimate incentives that reward initiative and performance. These could include special allowances for those working in disaster affected areas, recognition and promotion for officers who successfully complete relief and reconstruction work, and the provision of additional staff and logistical support so that the workload is manageable. Clear targets and deadlines, with support from the non-governmental sector, can also encourage officials to act more proactively. When government officers feel supported and recognised for the extra effort required, they are more likely to engage actively with affected communities and ensure that assistance reaches those who need it most.

Political Solutions

Under the prevailing circumstances, however, the cyclone victims do not know what to do. The government needs to act on this without further delay. Government policy states that families can receive financial assistance of up to Rs 5 million to build new houses if they have identified the land on which they wish to build. But there is little freehold land available in many of the affected areas. As a result, people cannot show government officials the land they plan to buy and, therefore, cannot access the government’s promised funds. The government needs to address this issue by providing a list of available places for resettlement, both within and outside the area they live in. However, another finding at the meeting was that many cyclone victims whose lands have been declared unsafe do not wish to leave them. Even those who have been told that their land is unstable feel more comfortable remaining where they have lived for many years. Relocating to an unfamiliar area is not an easy decision.

Another problem the victims face is the difficulty of obtaining the documents necessary to receive compensation. Families with missing members cannot prove that their loved ones are no longer alive. Without official confirmation they cannot access property rights or benefits that would normally pass to surviving family members. These are problems that Sri Lanka has faced before in the context of the three decade long internal war. It has set up new legal mechanisms such as the provision of certificates of absence validated by the Office on Missing Persons (OMP) in place of death certificates when individuals remain missing for long periods. The government also needs to be sensitive to the fact that people who are farmers cannot be settled anywhere. Farming is not possible in every location. Access to suitable land and water is essential if farmers are to rebuild their livelihoods. Relocation programmes that fail to take these realities into account risk creating new psychological and economic hardships.

The message from the consultation with cyclone victims is that the government needs to talk more and engage more directly with affected communities. At the same time the political leadership at the highest levels need to resolve the problems that government officers on the ground cannot solve. Issues relating to land availability, legal documentation and livelihood restoration require policy decisions at higher levels. The challenge to the government to address these issues in the context of the Iran war and possible global catastrophe will require a special commitment. Demonstrating that Sri Lanka is a society that considers the wellbeing of all its citizens to be a priority will require not only financial assistance but also a motivated public service and proactive political leadership that reaches out to those still waiting to rebuild their lives.

by Jehan Perera

Features

Supporting Victims: The missing link in combating ragging

Published

21 hours ago

2026/03/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

A recent panel discussion at the University of Peradeniya examined the implications of the Supreme Court’s judgement on ragging, in which the Court recognised that preventing ragging requires not only criminal penalties imposed after an incident occurs but also systems and processes within universities that enable victims to speak up and receive support. Bringing together perspectives from law, university administration, psychology and students, the discussion sought to understand why ragging continues to persist in Sri Lankan universities despite the existence of legal prohibitions. While the discussion covered legal and institutional dimensions, one theme emerged clearly: addressing ragging requires more than laws and disciplinary rules. It requires institutions that are capable of supporting victims.

Sri Lanka enacted the Prohibition of Ragging and Other Forms of Violence in Educational Institutions Act No. 20 of 1998 following several tragic incidents in universities, during the 1990s. Among the most widely remembered is the death of engineering student S. Varapragash at the University of Peradeniya in 1997. Incidents such as this shocked the country and revealed the consequences of allowing violent forms of student hierarchy to persist. The 1998 Act marked an important legal intervention by recognising ragging as a criminal offence. The law introduced severe penalties for individuals found guilty of engaging in ragging or other forms of violence in educational institutions, including fines and imprisonment.

Despite the existence of this law for nearly three decades, prosecutions under the Act have been extremely rare. Incidents continue to surface across universities although most are not reported. The incidents that do reach university administrations are dealt with internally through disciplinary procedures rather than through the criminal justice system. This suggests that the problem does not lie solely in the absence of legal provisions but also in the ability of victims to come forward and pursue complaints.

The tragic reminders; the cases of Varapragash and Pasindu Hirushan

Varapragash, a first-year engineering student at the University of Peradeniya, was forced by senior students to perform extreme physical exercises as part of ragging, resulting in severe internal injuries and acute renal failure that ultimately led to his death. In 2022, the courts upheld the conviction of one of the perpetrators for abduction and murder. The case illustrates not only the brutality of ragging but also how long and difficult the path to justice can be for victims and their families. Even when victims speak about their experiences, they may not always disclose the full extent of what they have endured. In the case of Varapragash, the judgement records that the victim told his father that he was asked to do dips and sit-ups. Varapragash’s father had testified that it appeared his son was not revealing the exact details of what he had to endure due to shame.

More than two decades after the death of Varapragash, the tragedy of ragging continues. The 2025 Supreme Court judgement arose from the case of Pasindu Hirushan, a 21-year-old student of the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, who sustained devastating head injuries at a fresher’s party, in March 2020, after a tyre sent down the stairs by senior students struck him. He became immobile, was placed on life support, and returned home only months later. If the Varapragash case exposed the deadly consequences of ragging in the 1990s, the Pasindu Hirushan case demonstrates that universities are still failing to prevent serious violence, decades after the enactment of the 1998 Act. It was against this background of continuing institutional failure that the Supreme Court issued its Orders of Court in 2025. Among the key mechanisms emphasised by the judgement is the establishment of Victim Support Committees within universities.

Why do victims need support?

Ragging in universities can take many forms, including verbal humiliation, physical abuse, emotional intimidation and, in some instances, sexual harassment. While all forms of ragging can have serious consequences, incidents involving sexual harassment often present additional barriers for victims who wish to come forward. Victims may hesitate to complain due to weak institutional mechanisms, fear of retaliation, or uncertainty about whether their experiences will be taken seriously. In many cases, those who speak out are confronted with questions that shift attention away from the alleged misconduct and onto their own behaviour: why did s/he continue the conversation?; why did s/he not simply disengage, if the harassment occurred as claimed?; why did s/he remain in the environment?; or did his/her actions somehow encourage the accused’s behaviour? Such responses illustrate how easily victims can be subjected to a second layer of scrutiny when they attempt to report incidents. When individuals anticipate disbelief, minimisation or blame, silence may appear safer than disclosure. In such circumstances, the presence of a trusted institutional body, capable of providing guidance, protection and support, become critically important, highlighting the need for effective Victim Support Committees within universities.

What Victim Support Committees must do

As expected by the Supreme Court, an effective Victim Support Committee should function as a trusted institutional mechanism that places the safety and dignity of victims at the centre of its work. The committee must provide a safe and confidential point of contact through which victims can report incidents of ragging without fear of intimidation or retaliation. It should assist victims in understanding and pursuing available complaint procedures, while also ensuring their immediate protection where there is a risk of continued harassment. Recognising the psychological harm ragging may cause, the committee should facilitate access to counselling and emotional support services. At a practical level, it should also help victims document incidents, record statements, and preserve evidence that may be necessary for disciplinary or legal proceedings. The committee must coordinate with university authorities to ensure that complaints are addressed promptly and responsibly, while maintaining strict confidentiality to protect the identity and well-being of those who come forward. Beyond responding to individual cases, Victim Support Committees should also contribute to broader awareness and prevention efforts, within universities, helping to create an environment where ragging is actively discouraged and students feel safe to report incidents. Without such support, the process of pursuing justice can become overwhelming for individuals who are already dealing with the emotional impact of abuse.

Making Victim Support Committees work

According to the Orders of Court, these committees should include representatives from the academic and non-academic staff, a qualified counsellor and/or clinical psychologist, an independent person, from outside the institution, with experience in law enforcement, health, or social services, and not more than three final-year students, with unblemished academic and disciplinary records, appointed for fixed terms. Further, universities must ensure that committees consist of individuals who possess both expertise and genuine commitment in areas such as student welfare, psychology, gender studies, human rights and law enforcement, in line with the spirit of the Supreme Court’s directions, rather than consisting largely of ex officio positions. If treated as routine administrative positions, rather than responsibilities requiring specialised knowledge, sensitivity and empathy, these committees risk becoming symbolic rather than functional.

Greater transparency in the appointment process could strengthen the credibility of these committees. Universities could invite expressions of interest from individuals with relevant expertise and demonstrated commitment to supporting victims. Such an approach would help ensure that the committees benefit from the knowledge and dedication of those best equipped to fulfil this role.

The Supreme Court judgement also introduces an important safeguard by giving the University Grants Commission (UGC) the authority to appoint members to university-level Victim Support Committees. If exercised with integrity, this provision could help ensure that these committees operate with greater independence. It may also help address a challenge that sometimes arises within institutions, where individuals, with relevant expertise, or strong commitment to addressing issues, such as violence, harassment or student welfare, may not always be included in institutional mechanisms due to internal administrative preferences. External oversight by the UGC could, therefore, create opportunities for such individuals to contribute meaningfully to Victim Support Committees and strengthen their effectiveness.

Ultimately, the success of the recent judgement will depend not only on the directives it issued, the number of committees universities establish, or the number of meetings they convene, or other box-checking exercises, but on how sincerely those directives are implemented and the trust these committees inspire among students and staff. Laws can prohibit ragging, but they cannot by themselves create environments in which victims feel safe to speak. That responsibility lies with institutions. When universities create systems that listen to victims, support them and treat their experiences with seriousness, universities will become places where dignity and learning can coexist.

(Udari Abeyasinghe is attached to the Department of Oral Pathology at the 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.

by Udari Abeyasinghe

Features

Big scene … in the Seychelles

Published

21 hours ago

2026/03/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

Mirage: Off to the Seychelles for fifth time

Several of our artistes do venture out on foreign assignments but, I’m told, most of their performances are mainly for the Sri Lankans based abroad.

However, the group Mirage is doing it differently and they are now in great demand in the Seychelles.

Guests patronising the Lo Brizan pub/restaurant, Niva Labriz Resort, in the Seychelles, is made up of a wide variety of nationalities, including Russians, Chinese, French and Germans, and they all enjoy the music dished out by Mirage, and that is precisely why they are off to the Seychelles … for the fifth time!

The band is scheduled to leave this month and will be back after three weeks, but their journey to the Seychelles will continue, with two more assignments lined up for 2026.

In August it’s a four-week contract, and in December another four-week contract that will take in the festive celebrations … Christmas and the New Year.

Donald’s birthday
celebrations

According to reports coming my way, it is a happening scene at the Lo Brizan pub/restaurant, Niva Labriz Resort, whenever Mirage is featured, and the band has even adjusted its repertoire to include local and African songs.

They work three hours per day and six days per week at the Lo Brizan pub/restaurant.

Donald Pieries:
Leader, vocalist,
drummer

Led by vocalist and drummer Donald Pieries, many say it is his

musical talents and leadership that have contributed to the band’s success.

Donald, who celebrated his birthday on 07 March, at the Irish Pub, has been with the group through various lineup changes and is known for his strong vocals.

He leads a very talented and versatile line up, with Sudham (bass/vocals), Gayan (lead guitar/vocals), Danu (female vocalist) and Toosha (keyboards/vocals).

Mirage performs regularly at venues like the Irish Pub in Colombo and also at Food Harbour, Port City.