Features
Imran, a baby born without arms and Ayu, a teen with Down’s Syndrome
Exploring Geneva with my colleagues
(Excerpted from Memories that linger: My journey is the world of disability by Padmani Mendis
My responsibility (in Malaysia) was to facilitate two training courses. One was five weeks long and was for social welfare assistants and other officers from the district who will initiate CBR here in this part of Kuala Terengganu. The second of the courses was for two weeks and was for social welfare officers from other selected states as well. Participants of this second course will be responsible for planning and developing CBR projects in their own states. We discussed how monitoring and evaluation could be carried out as a continuous process during project development and the material in the Manual for measuring these.
All through my three-month assignment I had as my national counterpart a Social Welfare Officer from the Training Division of the Ministry of Social Welfare. She was an experienced trainer and we shared our teaching tasks. When I left, I was confident that she will be quite capable of carrying out the training function that we had carried out during our time together. The Secretary of the Ministry in Kuala Lumpur and that of the State took personal responsibility to ensure the CBR programme will benefit their disabled people.
In Batu Rakit, the work that was started during the training course blended with field work. In both courses it was possible to spend much time in field learning and teaching. We met community leaders in Batu Rakit for mobilisation. We also made visits to the homes of people who were in need of interventions. Many children were not going to school. Some immediate improvement was evident soon after starting CBR. Two children started going to kindergarten. Others who had been isolated before were participating with the family, going visiting together and so on. Many showed functional improvement.
The seed had been sown. How would it grow?
Two disabled individuals and another family stand out in my mind from those that we visited. One was a baby boy called Imran, six months of age. Imran had been born without both arms. He was not sitting up by himself as yet and spent most of his time lying on his mat and cooing. His mother appeared not to know quite what to do. We talked with her and introduced to her the possibility of teaching Imran to use his feet as his hands.
She welcomed the idea. His mother propped him up with pillows and gave him the toys that lay around him to hold. Imran soon caught the idea. It is of course natural that babies should do so. It is just that the mother either had not thought of the possibility, or did not want him to use his feet for some reason.
When we returned a few days later we found his sisters playing with Imran with great fun and making lots of noise; they were throwing back and forth a colourful cloth ball. Other playthings lay around on the floor. The Social Welfare Assistants taught Imran’s mother how to use the package on play activities from the Manual to take his development further. They taught her to assess at which stage of development Imran was at in areas such as communication, movement and so on. Then they showed her how to select corresponding play activities from the Manual to take him to the next level of development.
We visited Imran once more before I left. He was now sitting up on his own. And he was discovering with joy what a lot he could do with his feet. Later he would stand, walk and run about with neighbourhood playmates like any child would. He would go to school and out on trips with his family. Grow up to be an independent young man. He may now be in the fourth decade of his life. Where are you now Imran? How are you doing?
The second individual was Ayu, a young girl of fifteen years. She had Down’s Syndrome with some intellectual impairment and difficulty in learning. Here the mother cared for Ayu completely not letting Ayu do anything by herself, including washing, bathing and all other self-care activities. Ayu never went out of the house. We talked with both mother and daughter who were alone at home at that time. Ayu talked with us and responded to us shyly. We asked her whether she would like to be able to feed herself so her mother could do something else at that time. She nodded her head happily. The Social Welfare Assistants talked for some time with mother and daughter. They talked about going out to meet neighbours.
After explaining to them about it, the Social Welfare Assistants left relevant material from the WHO Manual for the mother and daughter. They asked them to look at it and see if they could do some of the things that were suggested. When we went back in five days the mother was preparing the family meal. Ayu was sitting with her in the kitchen cleaning vegetables. The mother said that Ayu was helping her now with simple tasks. The mother took Ayu out to the village – Ayu had gone with her to a meeting of the women’s group the previous day. Ayu had been very happy and the women had talked a lot with her.
The third I recall is of visits to a family. A home we visited quite early on in the programme. When we entered, we found the family ready to receive us. The mother, father and with them, three young children. The two older children lay on mats while a younger child was sitting up. All three were boys. All three had a progressive muscular condition. All three had gone to school but as each reached the age of ten to eleven they had dropped out because they could no longer move independently. Now the older two had to be fed, washed and clothed. The youngest needed assistance. We talked with the family for a while. The biggest problem I saw here was that the family was completely isolated with no help and no social support.
Afterwards, I discussed with the Social Welfare Assistants what they would do to improve the situation of the boys and the family. I visited this family again before I left. The mother, along with the three boys, greeted us with a smile. She said her husband had been found work with a farmer. She herself no longer felt alone because her neighbours and even the community leaders visited her. She had made two special friends in whom she could confide. One would sometimes stay with the boys so she could go out to visit family and friends.
Former school friends of the boys visited. They shared with her boys some of what they had learned at school. She felt what was important is that her boys now had friends with whom they could play and interact.
The Social Welfare Assistants were hoping to soon deliver three wheelchairs to the home so that the boys could be taken out into the kampong. So here, in the presence of severe disability, the therapy or the medical rehabilitation required by the boys was not available. But the social impact of CBR was remarkably evident.
Many are the stories of how a visit from a trained Community Worker could make such a difference to the quality of life of individuals and families living in somewhat different circumstances. How will Ayu’s life change with the visits from the Social Welfare Assistant and with interest taken by the women in the village? The Social Welfare Assistant planned to join a meeting of the women and then take Ayu to other activities in the village. Will this make a difference to other disabled people in the village as well as to Ayu? What will be the quality of life of the three boys? Time will tell.
Malay Houses
Although the rest house in which I lodged was made of brick and mortar, other houses in the Kampongs were stilt houses. Kampongs are what villages are called in Malaysia. Stilt houses are the traditional Malay architecture. Wooden houses built on thick strong pillars. There is a central pillar surrounded by may be by six to twelve pillars spaced around the periphery and some closer to the central pillar, depending on the size of the house. The roofs were also made of timber. They were high allowing for good ventilation in a humid climate. The walls of the houses in Batu Rakit were made of wood because that was plentiful. I was told that in some areas walls were made of bamboo. The space under the house was used for storage.
Houses were generally spaced out in large compounds. In their compounds owners had planted trees which they could use in twenty to thirty years to refurbish their houses. Or to extend a house when a child was getting married and needed a home. Extended families lived together, cooking together as one household. I was glad I had lived in Batu Rakit and experienced their traditional lifestyle when I visited their homes.
One entered the house on a wooden ladder. At night they took the ladder up to prevent small animals like rats and bandicoots from climbing into the house. I would not have experienced this traditional Malay architecture and lifestyle had I been confined to Kuala Lumpur as I was on subsequent visits to Malaysia.
Gunnel Nelson
Gunnel Nelson, my much-loved friend and travel companion on my CBR Journey passed away in July 1984. She met with a fatal car accident in Zambia while on an assignment for UNICEF. The assignment concerned improving the lives of disabled children. A cause that Gunnel was devoted to since she started working as an Occupational Therapist, and later as the Principal of the School of Occupational Therapy in Goteborg, Sweden.
With her sudden passing away CBR suffered an unexpected loss – the loss of a human being who would have hastened considerably improvement in the quality of life of disabled people in developing countries. She was firm in her beliefs and convictions with a rare ability to take action to realise them. Like her fellow-Swede Einar, she empathised with the poor and vulnerable and worked tirelessly to bring them social justice. Like Einar and me she was convinced that CBR would initiate changes required to bring disabled people that social justice.
Gunnel and I first met in Geneva in May 1979 when we came together at WHO to work with Einar on developing a strategy for implementing WHO’s new disability policy. Our work in CBR was targeted at enabling disabled people come out of their isolation and exclusion and be included and be participating members within their families and their communities.
Gunnel and I had similar but separate roles in this work. She travelled to certain countries and I to others. But in those all-too-brief five years that we worked together, we met regularly in Geneva and at meetings held in other parts of the world; meetings which brought people together to discuss the way forward for disabled people through CBR. Although the concept and implementation of the CBR system was pioneered in Geneva as a seed, nurturing the growth of it was a global effort involving too many countries to be counted at the time of her passing away.
Gunnel’s work flowed from Geneva like mine, with assisting countries to set up field trials of CBR. She visited first Nigeria in January 1980 for three months. A research project was set up jointly by the WHO Collaborating Centre for Research and Training in Orthopaedics in Lagos and the National Youth Service Corps. She followed this up with a visit in December of the same year.
Her next task was to set up a research project in Kerala, India in collaboration with the Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation of the Medical College in Trivandrum. Her counterpart was Prof. P.B.M. Menon. Before starting on the project with Prof. Menon she visited the WHO South-East Regional Office in New Delhi for discussions. She also met other Rehabilitation Specialists first in New Delhi and then in Kerala to inform them and their institutions and seek their support for the project; and similarly, with the Ministry of Health in Kerala and other professorial staff at the Medical College in Trivandrum.
From Kerala, in November 1980 she proceeded to the Philippines to evaluate the progress made in the ongoing field trial of CBR and of the WHO Manual in the Rizal District of Metropolitan Manila. The project used Primary Health Care as an entry point with PHC workers who had been trained for two years. As in Bacolod City where the Philippines had their first experience of CBR, the urban project here commenced with an intensive information programme.
When we had an assignment in Geneva, Gunnel always drove down from Goteborg so that we had the use of her car in Geneva. Many a time she offered me the use of it. I told her I would not dare to drive in Europe. All those multi-lane high-speed highways and one-way road systems had me quite confused even sitting by her side as a passenger. In these circumstances, I could never be a navigator either.
It was not too difficult to find accommodation in Geneva for a period of three months. Sometimes we stayed separately, sometimes we shared an apartment. I recall how amused she was when once I stayed in a guest house run by the Salvation Army. I had selected it because it was located in the old city which I thought would be interesting.
It was. Only after I went into occupation did I know that it was maintained for retirees from the Red Light District not far away.
The ladies would come to breakfast in flimsy negligees with their faces made up as they would have been made up when they were employed. The trade was lawful in Geneva. The occupant of the room next to mine was quite elderly and confined to bed. She was looked after 24/7 by staff of the guest house. Still dressed in her flimsy negligees. Still with her face made up immaculately.
Most Saturdays we spent working. If we did not, I was out window shopping. On Sunday we would relax, driving out of Geneva. Sometimes we drove around the picturesque countryside of Switzerland through pretty mountain villages. In the spring and summer colourful wild flowers covered every available space on roadsides and spread up the mountainsides. But to me all this appeared to be organised just like all else in Switzerland. I felt that the flowers had been planted there by human hands. Not really wild. But of course they were wild. Just God’s wonders.
One Sunday we drove through the very old village of Gruyere famous for the cheese it produces. Outside this village high up in the Alps, fat and healthy cows were grazing on the mountain sides.
Other Sundays we drove in the French countryside. More often than not I had no French entry visa. But this was no obstacle for someone who knew the back roads where there were unmanned border posts. We would drive around and find a Michelin recommended restaurant to enjoy a late lunch.
On Sundays roads in France were deserted not just of vehicles, but there were no people to be seen either. When once I remarked on this to Einar he said to me, “Do you expect to see people as you would in your part of the world?” Sunday, for the French, was a day spent with one’s own family at home. For us, it was largely visiting extended family and friends. And catching up with the weekly marketing.
Gunnel and I enjoyed the food of foreign countries. In Geneva, after a long day of work, we indulged in dinner at different restaurants. One of our favourites was a Turkish restaurant popular for its Doner Kebab. Lamb grilled on the spit to perfection and served as slices as thin as paper.
In autumn as the weather became colder it was time for genuine Swiss Cheese Fondue – two or three special cheeses melting and blending together in a pot into which one would dip cubes of soft bread and pop them hot into one’s mouth. My favourite Swiss food was Raclette. Although here traditionally, the melting slices of cheese were served on potatoes, I preferred this on toasted bread. Eaten with pickled gherkins and onions.
Knowing my liking for steak, Einar would, on each one of our periods in Geneva, take Gunnel and me to enjoy a good French steak at the Café du Paris on the Rue du Mont Blanc in the centre of the city. Such a popular spot that we had always to stand in a queue to get in.
Before my first visit to Geneva in 1979 I did not drink wine. Associated this with alcohol. But dining out so often with those two Swedes, that habit soon changed. After some time I was persuaded to, “Just try it. Have a sip.” I enjoyed it so much that before the end of three months, I could drink three glasses of it with a meal. And feel no effects of it.Those days in Geneva were memorable – both for the work we did and for the enjoyment we had. I missed having Gunnel to work with. She still lives in my memory from day to day.
Features
Quandary of Dengue: Some roving perspectives
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.
Features
ANURADHAPURA ANTHEM c.1893
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.
- Ruwanveli Seya in the background. Murage in the front c. 1900 From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
- Bhayagriya (Abhayagiriya) c. 1900 From: Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
- Jetawanaramaya c. 1900. From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
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
Features
Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation: Restoring Mobility, Dignity and Hope Across Sri Lanka
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.
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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