Life style
How elephant poop becomes fancy paper in Sri Lanka
BY ZINARA RATNAYAKE
An elephant can defecate 16 times in one day—and its 200 pounds of dung can double as paper pulp.Grown-up elephants can eat more than 300 pounds of food—mostly grass, twigs, foliage, and tree bark—in a single day. In the same period, they may defecate 16 to 18 times, producing over 200 pounds of dung.
In Randeniya, a small village in the lower wetlands of Sri Lanka, elephant poop is a renewable resource. The sun-dried, deep-brown dung piles up like haystacks in a painting by Claude Monet.
Visitors could be forgiven for thinking that the poop is useless. But at Eco Maximus, a manufacturer in Randeniya, it takes on a second life.
More than 20 years ago, a man named Thusita Ranasinghe saw some dung and had an idea. “He thought he could make paper from it,” says the company’s brand designer, Susantha Karunarathne, with a smile. At his office inside the company factory, Karunarathne wears a green t-shirt which says elephantdung paper and shows off some of his recent journal designs. On a table nearby, a several women carefully design covers for multi-sized notebooks. On another, the finished product is packed and ready to be shipped. Today, Maximus creates a range of stationery and souvenirs, which are sold in the local market and in 30 other countries around the globe.
Eco Maximus was an early producer of elephant dung paper, and the first in Sri Lanka, and refining the manufacturing process involved a lot of trial and error. Elephant dung is brought in by nearby rescue centers, Karunarathne says during a tour of the factory.
Fresh elephant dung, semi-solid and green in color, smells. But after it dries under the hot tropical sun, the smell disappears. Collectors gather the deep-brown, fiber-rich piles in a piping-hot steam boiler. “We boil for one hour, to ensure that the dung is germ-free,” says Vibhatha Wijeratne, the factory manager, wearing a pair of yellow gloves as he shows me a pile of boiled dung.
In one corner of the factory, bundles of paper with crumpled edges are stacked upon each other. There are different colors—earthy tones, blues, tropical greens, and deep reds. Thousands of years ago, much of the writing in Sri Lanka was inscribed on stones. Later, the islanders wrote on leaves, such as the fronds of the palmyrah palm, locally known as the tal.
“Palmyrah leaves were boiled and sun-dried for writing, which was called pus kola (old leaves),” says bright-eyed Randika Jayasinghe, who teaches biosystems technology at the University of Sri Jayewardenepura.
Conventional papermaking began after Sri Lanka was colonized by the Portuguese, the Dutch, and then the British, who referred to the island as Ceylon. Most paper uses wood pulp as the main material, which is fibrous and rich in lignin and cellulose. “It is prepared by chemically and mechanically separating fibers from wood,” Jayasinghe says. “These chemicals are then released as wastewater.”
The problem is that nearly four billion trees are cut down every year to manufacture paper. Some are farmed, but others are logged from managed and old-growth forests. “Since paper is biodegradable, we consider it to be eco-friendly compared to plastics,” Jayasinghe says. But it comes at a significant environmental cost.
After the British left Sri Lanka in 1948, the local government opened 12 factories in the 1960s to utilize waste straw from rice paddies for paper-making. But by 1993, only two of them remained. One of them was managed by Shirani Fairbanks. “I walked into the Export Development Board in Colombo, and by accident, I saw a sheet of paper made from banana fiber,” says curly-haired Fairbanks, collecting a bundle of vibrant wrapping paper from her office table. “It inspired me to start Trickledown.”
Her company eventually moved beyond conventional paper making, when they began using waste material—tea refuse, banana skins, pineapple fiber—to make paper. “There’s a huge demand for elephant dung paper products in the market,” Fairbanks tells me. They have a unique aesthetic appeal, which many young people love.”
The company now sources paper from manufacturers around the country for their stationery, crafts and other products. One of them is Eco Maximus.
Back at the Eco Maximus factory, Wijeratne, the manager, shows off a 1,000-liter cement tank known as the beater. A rubber hose pipes water into the tank from a nearby tap, and an employee uses his bare hands to toss in steam-boiled dung, which now resembles a yarn ball made out of earthy fibers. “This is the pulp we use for inner pages of notebooks,” Wijeratne says. “One-third of this pulp is elephant dung, while two-thirds of it is offcut.”
Offcut is two things: leftover paper brought from warehouses in Colombo, and remains from Eco Maximus paper that has been leveled and cut into desired sizes. Finally, bucket of deep magenta liquid is added to the mixture. (Eco Maximus also makes paper from elephant dung alone, but its fibrous texture makes it unsuitable for writing or drawing.) In one of the last steps of papermaking, a woman pours a jug of pulp onto a thin metal mesh.
The mesh is dipped in water, and she uses her fingers to mix the pulp for a few seconds, leveling it on the mesh while the water trickles down. “This is for 150 GSM writing paper,” Wijeratne tells me, using the industry acronym for “grams per square meter.” (Printer paper is usually less than 100 GSM, while business cards can be as high as 400 GSM.)
Two women hold the mesh up and press it onto a slightly larger cotton fabric, which is laid flat on a table by a third woman. She then folds the fabric edges in and seals it, which creates a fabric-pulp sheet. Smiling and chatting, they soon make a pile of sheets.
“We use this machine to compress the water out,” says Karunarathne, pointing to a large electric machine. A middle-aged man manually controls the machine, which squeezes a bundle of fabric-pulp sheets as water drips down. “Now you can remove the cotton fabric, and let it dry.” Karunarathne takes me to a large section of the factory where colourful papers are neatly racked. Drying takes place under the asbestos roof, as direct sunlight could bleach the blues, tropical greens, earthy tones, and deep reds.
Finally, two cheery ladies stand by a large aluminum sheet iron, which smooths out the creases and rough edges one sheet at a time. “Ironing is the final step of raw paper making,” says Wijeratne. These paper sheets will be cut, leveled and turned into stationery.
The transformation of poop into paper is complete. Outside, in a neighbour’s garden outside the factory, it is about to start all over again. An elephant marches past, holding a clump of grass beneath his trunk. He leaves a pile of poop before he moves on. “It will be turned into paper tomorrow,” Karunarathne says, and laughs.
(BBC)
Life style
The fight to save Sri Lanka’s natural flood buffers
By Zinara Rathnayake
Pay Drechsel is going for his daily morning walk around Talangama Wetland, in Sri Lanka’s capital Colombo. The sun casts a warm glow over flowering pink water lilies as a farmer scrubs down his water buffalo. A kingfisher hovers nearby. Soon, photographers will arrive to capture curved-necked egrets, waders probing for crawling worms, and little cormorants diving for freshwater fish.
Talangama Wetland and its surrounding swamps, reedbeds, canals and rice fields teem with life. But this hasn’t always been the case. About 15 years ago, these ecosystems were degraded and filled with rubbish. They were “dirty, very dirty”, says Drechsel, interim country manager at the International Water Management Institute (IWMI) in Colombo.
He recalls how he spent one Christmas almost a decade ago cleaning the lake, scouring for piles of rotting garbage leaking contaminants into the water, and sorting waste for recycling. To his surprise, passersby stopped and started helping him. “I realized it’s not only me, locals also appreciate it,” he says. “But like me over all the years, they may have been waiting for someone to take the lead.”
The community came together to keep the massive wetland complex clean, forming the Talangama Wetland Watch. Residents organize weekly collection runs, piling up sorted waste at a small collection unit which the municipality sends off for recycling. School kids volunteer, kayaking through the lake to dig up invasive water hyacinth.
Home to over two million residents, Colombo is built on and around a massive network of wetlands. In 2018, Colombo became one of the 18 Ramsar wetland cities in the world – an accreditation which recognizes cities for their commitment to restore, safeguard and value wetlands, with 25 new cities added to the list in 2022.
As Colombo is located in a river basin, the city is naturally prone to floods. Colombo’s wetlands act as a flood buffer, with 40% of floodwaters draining into wetland areas. They also sink carbon, purify the air and control temperatures. As temperatures warm and rains become more erratic, “wetlands are important to the city to mitigate climate change impacts”, says Chethika Gunasiri, an environmental scientist at the University of Tokyo who was part of Colombo’s Ramsar application. “Wetlands help Colombo mitigate pollution and natural disasters. They help reduce human stress as more and more people are now living in high rise buildings,” she adds.
Historically, wetlands were a “part and parcel of people’s lives in Colombo,” says Missaka Hettiarachchi, a senior fellow at the World Wildlife Fund’s environment and disaster management programme, who has been studying wetlands in Colombo for several years. Ancient kingdoms thrived in a well-managed wetland system where people used them for transport and to grow food, Hettiarachchi says.
Their downturn began in the British colonial period from the late 18th Century. When industries grew, people acquired wetlands to drain for building housing and businesses. A flood retention scheme introduced during British rule in 1924 led to the creation of man made drainage canals, preventing people from travelling through the wetlands. Although they are regularly cleaned, many of these canals are now polluted and choked with invasive plants.
“The canals are no longer enough to prevent Colombo from flooding,” says Gunasiri.
After independence in 1948, subsequent governments declared some wetlands for flood buffering, and filled up others to make space for living, Hettiarachchi says. “And people thought wetlands were also a very, very attractive space for garbage dumps, because, you know, no one is living there, right?” This meant that people dumped everything from food waste to solid waste and chemicals while releasing sewage into the wetlands.
From the 1980s, massive rubbish mountains began to appear in natural wetlands, such as Meethotamulla in the Colombo metropolitan area, which spans 100,000 sq m (107,639 sq ft) and stands 60m (197 ft) tall. The wetland was closed after one of the rubbish mountains collapsed and killed 32 people in 2017.
During the civil war (1983-2009), the encroachment of wetlands continued, as they were sold to internally displaced people, Hettiarachchi says. Some marshy wetlands turned into shrub habitats that couldn’t hold enough water to protect the city from flooding, he says. According to one study, Kolonnawa Marsh, which forms the largest part of Colombo’s flood retention belt, has lost 65% of its area since the 1800s. A 2014 study concluded that 44% of the marsh has turned into a shrubland. The soil too has changed, reducing its capacity to absorb and drain water, leading to increased flooding and disasters.
By the 2000s, the city’s wetlands were “a bloody mess”, Hettiarachchi says. During his PhD, he would ask residents living near the degraded wetlands about these ecosystems, and they would respond: “No, we don’t know any wetlands.”
The decline of the wetlands made Colombo more prone to flooding. In 2010, a series of disastrous floods affected nearly 700,000 people and submerged the country’s parliament. This led to a shift in government policy. “I think it took a few significant flooding events for the government to realize, okay, wetlands are a significant flood control mechanism, so we need to do something about it,” says Radheeka Jirasinha, a freshwater and wetland management researcher at IWMI.
As part of the ongoing revival, the government introduced the metro Colombo wetland management strategy in 2016, which aims to include wetlands in urban planning, prevent further wetland loss, restore the ecosystems and involve the local community in their conservation. Following that, wetlands were incorporated into urban infrastructure by constructing cycling tracks, jogging paths and recreational areas around them.
“The idea was to bring people to the wetlands,” Gunasiri says. The government initiatives pulled up invasive species like water hyacinth and introduced new soil and wetland plants to attract birds and other animals.
Today, Colombo is home to four wetland parks and several other recreational spaces linked by wetlands. These restored wetlands look very different from those left untended. Photographer Nazly Ahmed says that when he went to Kotte, a Colombo suburb and the administrative hub of the country, in the late 1990s to play cricket with friends, the wetlands were covered entirely by water hyacinth. This invasive weed clogs waterways, grows over native plants, reduces oxygen and creates breeding grounds for mosquitoes, and their growth is linked to poor water quality and high pollution levels.
This Colombo suburb is now home to jogging paths and bird watching spots built around the wetlands and waterways. “No one knew about wetlands then, but people are talking about wetlands now,” says Ahmed.
Gunasiri says these green infrastructure projects have helped people to engage with the city’s wetlands again and that people now flock to the urban wetland parks for an evening jog. “When these natural systems become public areas, people start to have a sense of ownership,” she says.
Jirasinha agrees. People feel that they can use these spaces now, she says. “They’re concerned about what is happening. And suddenly, people look at the water and are like, ‘Hey, it’s polluted…where is that coming from’?”
It’s not only the government that is managing Colombo’s wetlands. Community initiatives like the Talangama Wetland Watch have started to take responsibility too. “If you keep wetlands free from rubbish and maintain them, they increase the property value in urban areas,” says Drechsel, who believes people are willing to pay twice as much for land with wetland views.
Although there’s an attitude shift and residents are now aware of the value the wetlands add to the city, problems are far from over, Hettiarachchi says. After the civil war ended in 2009, Colombo’s urban population expanded rapidly. Developments sprung up, leading to the draining of wetlands for housing, businesses and infrastructure. Since 2009, Colombo has lost 2.12 sq km (0.8 sq miles) of its wetlands.
According to a 2024 study, wetlands absorb 62.1mm more floodwater than built up areas in Colombo. Despite collective efforts to clean and restore some of the city’s wetlands, the overall loss of wetland area means that Colombo is becoming more vulnerable to floods, the 2024 study notes.
The Ramsar accreditation pushed the state government to temporarily suspend filling and destroying any wetlands. “So there’s definitely proactive action to safeguard the city’s wetlands, but we need a coordinated effort from government, non-profits and communities to stop their degradation,” says Chaturangi Wickramaratne, a freshwater ecologist at IWMI.
Gunasiri explains that wetland education is vital for citizens to understand their importance in urban resilience. “More and more wetlands need to be a part of the city’s functions, linked to people’s well-being, so people begin to care about them more,” she says.
Wetlands can also help with the city’s food shortages, says Hettiarachchi. “You don’t need irrigation systems to grow food, you can use these ecosystems – they are also fabulous breeding grounds for fish,” he says.
Behind the new use of Colombo’s wetlands for people’s well-being, Gunasiri notes an underlying urgency to protect these ecosystems. “If we lose our wetlands, Colombo will be unliveable.
“BBC”
Life style
Hilton Sri Lanka Triumphs with 12 of the 25 Awards Won by Hotels and Resorts Across the Country
Hilton Sri Lanka has once again demonstrated its leadership hospitality, taking home an impressive 12 awards across four properties at the prestigious World Luxury Hotel Awards gala held in Bali, Indonesia. The accolades serve as a testament to the brand’s commitment to excellence, world-class service, and innovative guest experiences said a release.
Among the standout winners, Hilton Colombo was honored as a Luxury Business Hotel (Regional), Luxury Conference and Event Hotel (Country), and also secured recognition for Best Architectural Design (Regional). With a 37-year legacy, Hilton Colombo continues to set the bar for luxury hospitality in the heart of Sri Lanka.
Hilton Colombo Residences, located just minutes away from the flagship hotel, also added to the accolades with titles such as Luxury Family Hotel (Regional), Luxury Residences (Regional), and Luxury City Hotel (Country). The property is renowned for providing comfort and sophistication, particularly for families and long-stay travelers.
In southern Sri Lanka, DoubleTree by Hilton Weerawila Rajawarna Resort earned global recognition as the Best Lakeside Resort, alongside Best Presidential Suite (Continent) and Luxury Family Resort (Regional).
Adding to the success, Hilton Yala Resort, the latest addition to Hilton Sri Lanka’s portfolio, was acknowledged for Best Interior Design (Global) and secured wins in the categories of Luxury New Resort (Continent) and Luxury Wildlife Resort (Continent).
Commenting on the achievement, Manesh Fernando, Area General Manager for Hilton Sri Lanka and General Manager of Hilton Colombo, said: “We are incredibly proud of these awards, which underscore our unwavering dedication to delivering unparalleled guest experiences. his recognition would not have been possible without the continued support of our valuable guests, owners, team members, and community, and we extend our heartfelt thanks to everyone who voted for us. Your trust and loyalty inspire us to strive for excellence continually.”
The World Luxury Hotel Awards is one of the most coveted accolades in the global luxury hospitality industry, recognizing exceptional service and innovation across a variety of categories.
Life style
The Grand Kandyan Christmas cake mixing with the cricket stars
The Grand Kandyan Hotel was alive with seasonal cheer as it hosted its annual Christmas cake mixing event, bringing together fans, families, and cricket stars for a joyous celebration.
Cricket stars joined the festivities, adding a special touch to the occasion. Their presence not only drew crowds but also fostered a great sense of community spirit, as fans interacted with their heroes while preparing for the upcoming holiday season. The air was filled with the delightful aromas of fruits, nuts, and spices, evoking the warmth and joy of Christmas.
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