How a ‘Sura’ saved Thilo Hoffmann falling off a tree

Excerpted from the authorized biography of Thilo Hoffmann
by Douglas B. Ranasinghe

Financially the young couple were “not well placed”. Europeans during the first contracts of employment usually received minimal salaries (around 400 rupees a month); without any fringe benefits, a hangover from pre-war times. Thus it was customary for them to incur debts in the form of interest-free loans from the employer. The salary was barely enough for the daily necessities, including rent. Loans were needed to purchase household articles such as furniture, a second-hand fridge, a motorcycle or small car, and for income tax. Thilo continues:

“Though as a graduate I had a higher salary than the other Assistants, it took us nearly ten years to pay back all debts to the company. Mae took charge of our finances and was a great strength. Almost until the end, when we were quite well off, she meticulously kept our household accounts. Every evening without fail she would be balancing the day’s expenses against the cash in hand. She would not let go until every cent was accounted for. Throughout most of my life I never carried money in my pocket, leaving financial matters entirely to Mae.

“All car expenses had to be paid by the employee. I used to get a refund, of 40 cents per mile, only for business trips out of Colombo. In those days the traders and shop owners of Ceylon were marvelously trusting. On rare occasions when both cash and petrol were running out I could fill my tank, and introduce myself to the station owner promising to send the money due. I was not even asked to sign a chit. Needless to say, any such debts were always promptly settled.”

There were rickshaws in the city, which gave a number of men the chance of making a living. Every produce and currency broker had his own rickshaw for the daily round, and many of these vehicles took children to school and ladies to the market. Thilo and Mae often took a rickshaw from the “clock-tower stand” to the cinema, sometimes as far as the Savoy in Wellawatta, and back. He recalls:

“Cinema was then just about the only entertainment young people on middle-level salaries could afford, and the dinner dances at the two main hotels on Saturday nights. There were no nightclubs or pubs. People met in their homes and clubs.’’

“The first nightclub was the Silver Fawn, which would have opened in the late forties. Donovan Andree was involved in it and it became the meeting place of the then “jet set”. Names which come to mind are Leslie and Blanche Gunasekera, various executives of the Income Tax Department, “Bada” Cassim of Abdul Rahims, Costa Negris, the Greek ship chandler, his married brother Cleo, “Aru” Arunachalam, Onally Gulamhusein and Yvonne Toussaint, Terence de Soysa and his wife Ruki, his brother Cecil, and many others of all communities. It was a friendly crowd, there never were any brawls; and all enjoyed themselves. Erin de Selfa and others would perform.

“An early friend was Mervyn Jayasuriya, brother of Nalini; he was later a popular newsreader at Radio Ceylon. Others were Albert Perera and “Slim” Aiyadurai; Albert died young, a victim of his unshakable belief in the supernatural. We found Sri Lankans of all social levels friendly, generous and hospitable – with exceptions as in all societies.

“The Galle Face Hotel was then the “No. 2” to the GOH. It was run tightly by Sir John Tarbat. Its saltwater swimming pool was used by guests and Colombo residents, when the sea was rough. Memorable is the ballroom with dozens of large-bladed fans on long rods below the grand cupola. In 1947 Baurs celebrated its 50th anniversary at the Jubilee Room, which now exists in name only. Later some structural changes by the new owner (I remember the day he arrived at Ratmalana airport with a suitcase full of American dollars) altered the original appearance of the hotel: especially the pseudo-Kandyan porch and the entrance hall, the awnings over the windows and the twin stairways leading to the first floor. The long-abandoned south wing, though, was redone recently in exemplary fashion.

Saturday was then a half working day. At Baurs and some other companies the CEO usually invited his executives for a drink in a nearby hotel or restaurant at 11 o’clock, though officially work ended at noon.

Thilo and Mae continued to live in Baurs building. With its proximity to the Navy headquarters, they knew several of the naval chiefs in earlier times. Royce de Mel was a good friend. Mae, who was an excellent bridge player, became a valued partner at Admiral Basil Gunasekera’s all-night bridge sessions in nearby Klippenburg House.

At times the Hoffmanns had a wide range of social contacts, not only among their friends but in government circles, at embassies and even Governor’s House next door. In 1954 they were invited to a garden party at Temple Trees when the young Queen Elizabeth and her husband paid their first visit to Ceylon. Sir John Kotelawala was the Prime Minister.

When the former Governor Lord Soulbury revisited Ceylon with the new Lady Soulbury in 1964, Mae Hoffmann was asked to accompany them to Wilpattu as the competent guide and companion. The party stayed at Manikapola Uttu. It was while they were there that Soulbury after many years and for the last time saw his son “Jamie” Ramsbotham.

To meet his father in private, James traveled to Wilpattu from an ashram at Chenkaladi, where he was leading a life of meditation, after his wife’s early death. He later moved to the Jaffna Peninsula, and died in 2004. The title, which had devolved on him, passed to his brother.

On working days Thilo was busy in his career at Baurs. Whenever free he and Mae would travel, throughout the island.

FASCINATION WITH THE COUNTRY

Early in their marriage Mae had Thilo’s horoscope cast. It is inscribed in a roll of ola leaf She then presented him with a golden amulet, a sura, which contains on a thin copper sheet, a tamba patraya, the planetary influences engraved. He wore this around his neck.

Years later he was walking alone through scrub in the Yala coastal area when he became aware of the close presence of elephants but could not see them. He found a tree tall and sturdy enough to climb. From its top he could still only hear occasional sounds made by them. Suddenly an elephant appeared right under the tree, and in single file six grown elephants and two babies passed so close that Thilo could have touched their backs. They seemed to sense his presence, stopped and tested the air with raised trunks. Thilo shifted to another branch to see them better. It snapped and he went down like a stone.

The fall was stopped when his chin got caught on a branch. This nearly knocked him out. The elephants fled in panic. It is debatable whose shock was greater, theirs or Thilo’s. The tree was a lunuwarana (Crateva adansonii), which is not known for toughness. Apart from bruises, abrasions, a chipped tooth, a swollen chin and a torn shirt he did not suffer further damage. But the sura had been flattened. It had got caught between his lower jaw and a branch, thus softening the impact, and possibly preventing a fracture.

For greater protection from elephants, their friend Sam Elapata Jr. later presented Thilo with a sura made from the wood of the very rare mal madara tree (Cleistanthus collinus), which is found wild in Sri Lanka only in the Hambegamuwa area. It is said that elephants fear it. He also gave Mae and Thilo the jaw tooth of an elephant to be placed at the entrance to their house. As one enters one touches it, and it brings luck and happiness. It is still with Thilo, on a small table near the entrance to his residence.

On his first birthday after their marriage Mae presented ‘Milo with a ‘naga raksha’ mask. He became interested in, and fascinated by, kolam dancing and folk-religious ceremonies. Together they attended several bali ceremonies, and Thilo began to collect masks, which he found on his visits to the south-western hinterland.

Most of these were obtained with the help of planters, from families which had given up the performance of the traditional ceremonies but had kept the masks in their houses.Thilo saved these from certain destruction through decay, white ants and eventually disposal as firewood.

He studied the subject intensively through the available literature. In the 1950s the collection was transferred to Switzerland –according to rules then in force, with all the necessary permits from the relevant authorities. Eventually it was gifted to the Ethnographic Museum at St Gallen, his hometown where it enthralls visitors from all walks of life, giving them a glimpse of the traditional culture of the Sinhalese people and their artistry, and creating goodwill for and understanding of Sri Lanka.

Thilo has always been fascinated by the traditional close-to-nature lifestyles of different communities living in rural Sri Lanka. In his writings he describes some of them, for example at Sinharaja, Kathiraveli and Mullegama.

In the meantime there have been great changes. Kolam dancing and ceremonies such as bali and the masks used in them now survive mainly as adjuncts to tourism and entertainment, although they are also being revived for cultural reasons. The lifestyles in places then remote have changed greatly with the times.

Mae Hoffmann died in January 2002, at the age of 80. Throughout their married life she actively supported her husband and his work for conservation, and stood by him loyally in his many battles. She shared his enthusiasm for Sri Lanka and for its natural beauty. She also shared his many disappointments.