Features
Leopards at Pilimagala and Kumana
by Walter R. Gooneratne
I have made frequent jungle trips over the past 50 years, and these covered most regions of the country. I have camped out on several occasions in the intermediate zones of both Ruhuna and Wilpattu National Parks, but however interesting and exciting these were, the first trip was the most memorable.
In this period about the 1950’s, which I write about, our jungles were teeming with wildlife, and in that unenlightened era, animals were referred to as game, and some such as the bear were officially called vermin. Shooting them was considered sport. Principles of conservation were just beginning to be understood. Attitudes towards conservation have changed now, and hopefully we should be able to save our dwindling species. At the beginning, when shooting was allowed on permits, I indulged in this so- called sport, but gave it up over the past 25 years or more and am now an ardent conservationist.
Leopards at Pilimagala
In June 1951 1 was transferred to General Hospital, Kandy as a house officer, and it was there that I met two kindred spirits, Dr.Mackie Ratwatte, who was also a house officer, and Dr. S. J. Lawrence, better known as Pervey, or Tango Lawrence, so named for his elegant performance of this dance. Pervey was an anaesthetist. We soon discovered that we had a common interest, namely that of nature, wildlife and adventure, and most of our “off’ week-ends were spent in the jungles in Dambulla, Inamaluwa, and Kibissa near Sigiriya.
When the new Department of Wildlife (as it was then called) was formed, areas around national parks were declared as buffer or intermediate zones. People were allowed, on permit, to enter and shoot a limited number of game in these zones. There being no bungalows to hire, only camping was available, and that too at any preferred spot. For the princely sum of ten rupees a party had the exclusive use of the whole block for ten days. The Yala Intermediate Zone was divided into two parts, north and east. The north was further divided into block one (Galge), block two (Warahana) and block three (Muduntalawa).
We decided that we should be more adventurous and go camping into an intermediate zone. Having made inquiries we decided to go to Galge. Fortunately for us, a friend of ours lent us an old war-model Willys Jeep, and another gave us a tarpaulin and a canvas ground sheet. Pervey’s armoury consisted of a 9.3mm Mauser rifle and a double-barrel shot-gun, and as for me, I had borrowed my father’s 7.9mm Mauser and his Stevens six shot repeater shot-gun. I also borrowed my brother’s 0.22 inch calibre Hornet rifle. Mackie had no weapons, for he did not shoot.
When news got around that we were going hunting, there was a special request from an old attendant of the hospital, Seetin Singho. He was a chronic asthmatic and wanted us to bring him some kara mus or flesh from the back of the leopard’s neck. There was a belief that the call of the leopard sounded like panting as in asthma, but it was unable to lick the back of its neck, and therefore eating kara mus was considered a cure for asthma.
Having loaded the jeep, we left Kandy early one morning in February 1952. In addition to the three of us we also took along a cook. The old jeep, groaning under its heavy load, brought us without further incident to Kataragama at about 11 am.
We now had to meet our tracker, Babun Appuhamy who was going to be our guide for the rest of the journey. He had informed us that he lived on the other side of Menik Ganga. Fortunately the river was at a low ebb, and the jeep, despite its heavy burden, had no problem getting across. Everybody at Kataragama seemed to know Babun, and we had no difficulty in finding his house. Our first meeting was a memorable one. He looked at us in surprise, for as he told us later, when he heard that the party consisted of three doctors, he had expected to see three staid middle-aged men. He changed his look of surprise to one of approval.
Babun was about five feet three inches in height and of a dark complexion. He did not seem to have an ounce of fat on his body, and his wiry muscles rippled under his dusky skin. His age was anybody’s guess. He inspected our weapons with the eye of a connoisseur and inquired closely about the Hornet. He said it would be the ideal weapon for small game such as jungle fowl and hare. When I told him that I could and would use it on larger game, he expressed his serious doubts. The Hornet, though of 0.22inch calibre had a muzzle velocity of 3,500 feet per second and fired a much heavier bullet than the ordinary rim fire weapon.
Camping at Pilimagala
Having had a lunch of rice and curry at a small eating house or buth kade in Kataragama, we started on the last lap of our journey to the campsite. The old Buttala-Kataragama road was a nightmare. The first three or four miles of the road were a drain four to five feet deep and just wide enough for our vehicle. Rainwater had gouged out deep channels on its floor, and when the jeep fell into these ruts it would tilt at crazy angles. We had therefore to dismantle the hood to prevent it from being damaged on the banks of the road.
At the sixth milepost, there was a shrine dedicated to Lord Ganesh. Babun hung a leaf at the shrine with a prayer to the deity for a safe journey. At this point we turned right on the track to Pilimagala, our campsite. After about four and a half miles we came to an open plain or eliya. This was Thalakola Wewa. The bund of this former tank or reservoir, as suggested by the name wewa, had breached many years ago and the resulting plain was lush and green after the recent rains. Here was a herd of about twenty deer. There were many does and a few bucks, which gazed at us in curiosity.
Babun wanted me to shoot the big antlered buck both for food and as bait for the leopard. I decided to use the Hornet, but Babun admonished me saying that I would only injure the animal and thereby lose him. Ignoring Babun’s advice I shot the buck in the shoulder with a hollow-point bullet. At my shot the animal collapsed in its tracks. Total disbelief was written all over the tracker’s face. He examined the rifle closely to make sure that I had not deceived him about the calibre.
We arrived at the campsite at about six pm and got about setting up our camp, which was a very simple affair. A rope was tied between two trees and the tarpaulin slung over it. The four corners of the tarpaulin were tied to some pegs driven into the ground. The ground sheet was spread on the floor and our tent was complete.
Pilimagala was a huge slab of rock, about 300 yards long and 150 yards wide. At the base of the rock, where our camp was located, there was a water-hole or kema extending some distance into the rock. This provided what we considered pure water (except for a few frogs!) for drinking and cooking. Towards the left corner of the rock, was a cave about twenty yards long and ten feet deep. It had a drip-ledge on the overhanging rock above the opening, providing architectural proof that centuries ago it was part of a monastery. It would have been occupied by monks, who would have worshiped the statue and the vihare, the ruins of which still existed at the top.
The rock itself was two tiered. The lower and bigger part had a large water-hole (kema) about 30 feet long and eight feet wide. The upper part was smaller and at its summit was a smaller water-hole and the ruins of the statue and vihare. It is this statue that has given the rock the name Pilimagala. (pilima = statue; gala = rock).
We washed away our grime and fatigue of the journey in a cool bath with water drawn from the kema and lingered awhile to enjoy the cool breezes that blew over the green canopy. The view too was breathtaking, an unbroken sea of varying shades of green around us. Back in camp, we relaxed with a drink, and now that the cook had prepared the dinner, we had a delicious meal of venison curry, pol sambol and rice. We then had unbroken steep till next morning.
Baits for leopard
After breakfast the next day, we set about tying up baits for the leopards. The first was taken eastwards to a swampy plain called Unawa, which was about a mile from camp. The bait was in fact dragged along the track, as Babun said that when a leopard, in its nightly wanderings spots the drag mark, it follows it to the bait. The next bait was tied up at Thalakola Wewa close to the water-hole.
That evening we did a trek to the other side of Pilimagala, where there were large plains, interspersed with high forest. We kept to the edge of the forest so as not to disturb any animals in the glades. Suddenly there was an alarm call of a deer to our right and in front. Babun immediately signaled us to freeze. There were more hysterical calls warning the jungle folk that there was a leopard on the prowl. Pervey and I were ready with our rifles in case the leopard should show up. However, after a short while, the calls ceased, indicating that the leopard had most probably spotted us and moved away.
Clapping for jungle fowl
As we went further along, a jungle fowl called in the thicket to our right. Babun immediately motioned us to squat and whispered to me to be ready with the Hornet.
rolled up the lower part of his sarong into a ball and having placed it on the palm of his left hand, clapped on it with his right palm. One sharp clap was followed after a second by four or five rapid ones. Each series of claps was immediately followed by the crowing of the cock. This went on for some time, and each time the bird got closer and closer, and suddenly it dashed towards us.
However, on seeing us he immediately took flight. I took a quick shot, but missed completely. I learned two lessons, one being how to call up jungle fowl, and the other to use only a shot gun for shooting it. I have used this technique several times since then with spectacular success. I demonstrated this to Dr. Chris Uragoda recently at Malwariya Kema in Yala Block Five. The theory behind this technique is that every time a jungle fowl crows to announce its territory, it flaps its wings. The muffled clap on the sarong simulates the flapping of the wings of an intruder and he rushes in to meet his challenger.
Building hides
Early next morning we set out to inspect the baits. The one at Unawe had been attacked by a leopard as evidenced by the profusion of pug-marks around it. However, only a small amount of flesh had been eaten, but all internal organs had been carried to the edge of the jungle and devoured. Babun deduced that the leopard had found the bait only at day-break, and had therefore taken only the detachable parts and eaten them at the edge of the jungle. It would undoubtedly return to the feast. We now set about building a hide or kotuatte. It was sited about fifteen yards from the bait at the edge of the forest. Four stout saplings were cut from trees some distance away, so as not to disturb the area close to the bait. These saplings were now planted at the selected site to make a five-foot square. Thinner sticks were lashed to this frame to form a lattice. Strips of bark from the tree, maila were used as rope for this purpose. Next, small branches were threaded into the lattice until it was completely covered. In front were two holes or kapollas at eye level, one being for the tracker, and the other for the hunter to look and point his rifle through. These were covered with large leaves from the penera tree. At the back was an opening for the prospective occupants to get in, after which it was closed with a leafy branch. Finally, Babun inspected the contraption to make sure it was completely covered. He claimed that the leopard had such keen eyesight that it could spot even the batting of an eye-lid. Its hearing too was very acute.
As luck would have it, the bait or kuna at Thalakola Wewa had also been eaten. We built a kotuatte here too and returned to camp for a bath at the kema and lunch.
Mistaken identity
At 5 pm. we left for our respective hides. Pervey and Babun went walking to Unawe as it was not far, and Mackie and I took the jeep to Thalakola Wewa. Babun gave us strict instructions on how to conduct ourselves in the hide. We were to stay absolutely motionless, even if we were being drained of our blood by the hordes of mosquitoes that abounded there. Only when we heard the sound of the leopard eating the bait were we to open the kapolla and shoot.
At about 6 pm. we heard the alarm call of langur, a species of monkey, to the front of us but some distance away. A short while later a sambhur called, warning the animals that a leopard was on the prowl. For quite some time the jungle fell silent, except for the raucous calls of some Malabar pied hornbills from a tree behind us. It was now growing dark, and we thought that the leopard had spotted us and gone away. We were about to abandon our hide and get back to camp when a whole herd of spotted deer called from the track on our right and crashed away into the jungle.
The leopard was near at hand, but still no sounds of feeding were heard. Swarms of mosquitoes blanketed us, and it was quite dark by now. The moon had risen but was still covered by the wall of tall trees. Suddenly there was the sound of tearing of flesh and the simultaneous growl of the leopard. The growling and tearing of flesh continued for some minutes. We assumed that the leopard had spotted us and was trying to frighten us or maybe attack us.
By now the moon had just crested the trees and there was some light. We had to act fast before the leopard was on us. I exchanged the rifle for the shot-gun. I signaled Mackie to open his kapolla, and I did likewise. I then saw in the faint light what I thought was a gray head as it tore away the flesh. Taking careful aim I fired. At my shot, the animal crashed away and fell into the water-hole nearby. We, in our ignorance, had assumed that the leopard had been mortally wounded, and we could come the next day and recover the body.
When we got back to camp, the others had not returned yet. Half an hour later they were back. Their leopard had, for some reason not turned up. When I told Babun what had happened to us, he had a hearty laugh. He explained that it was a crocodile from the nearby water hole that was feeding, on the kill, and leopard in the thicket was trying to drive it away. No self-respecting leopard, he said, would jump into a water hole. It was not the leopard I had shot but the crocodile. Sure enough, the next morning Babun probed the water-hole with a pole and fished out the dead crocodile.
Another night’s vigil
In the evening we left early as Babun predicted that the leopard would come to the bait early to thwart the crocodile. He explained that the sound of gunfire, as long as the leopard was not injured, would be attributed by it to the sound of thunder. I can now confirm this, based on what happened to two of my friends on later occasions. The late Mr. Simon Gunewardene at Galge, and again the late Dr Ivor Obeyesekera at Kumana each had fired at and missed a leopard. On both occasions the leopards returned to the kill a short while later.
At 5.40 pm we were alerted by the numerous alarm calls of peafowl, langur and spotted deer from quite a distance away. Obviously the animal had no reason for stealth, as he knew that a ready-made feast was awaiting him. A few minutes later there was the welcome sound of tearing of flesh and crunching of bone. Our leopard had come and was feeding. This was the moment we were waiting for. I signaled Mackie to look through his kapolla and simultaneously looked through mine. There was the leopard quite oblivious to his surroundings, gorging away at the meat.
I took the Mauser and fired at its head at that short range. At my shot the raised head came down and rested on its paws, and a shudder went through its whole body. All was now still. However, going on the old adage ‘never trust a leopard until he’s skinned’, we got out of the hide with the shot gun cocked. I asked Mackie to throw clumps of earth from a termite mound that lay nearby. Nothing happened. The leopard was dead.
The jeep was brought and the carcass hauled onto the bonnet in triumph. When we arrived at the camp, the others had not returned yet. A few minutes later, there was the sound of gun-fire. However, Babun had warned, that should we hear gun shots, we should stay put. In case the leopard should be injured, we would be blundering into an infuriated animal. An hour later they returned. Pervey had also got his prize. The jeep was taken and the leopard brought back.
After a bath in the kema, we drank the rest of the liquor in celebration. Then dinner and bed were most welcome The whole of the next morning was spent skinning the two leopards. At about 10 am, Pervey and I walked to Unawe. There we surprised a huge lone wild boar with prominent Lushes wallowing in the mud. We both got our rifles up, but it was too quick for us and crashed away into the nearby jungle.
In the evening, we walked towards Muduntalawa. About four miles from camp was a huge rock, with a long kema at ground level. The rock overhung the kema. Its surface was adorned with a pale green water weed in the shape of a rose petal. This was Banawelkema. On the way back, there were large numbers of spotted deer, but we did not shoot any, as it was getting late and we were in no mood to carry carcasses. The place was a paradise for leopard, and the track was riddled with their pug marks. A bear had also walked towards Muduntalawa.
It was getting quite dark when returning to camp, and had to walk with much caution as we had forgotten to bring a torch, for we had not expected to get so late. However, we sang at the top of our voices to warn any prowlers that some tough guys were on their way. When we got back to camp, the cook informed us that a leopard had called from the rock. Late at night the leopard called again, and Pervey and Babun went to investigate, but as there was bright moonlight the creature must have spotted them and moved away.
The next morning was cloudy and there was a drizzle. Though we had planned to stay two more days, we were compelled to leave the next day as our food supply was running out. We had misjudged the appetites of Babun and the cook, who could and did eat double of what we did.
(To be continued)
Features
Rebuilding Sri Lanka for the long term
The government is rebuilding the cyclone-devastated lives, livelihoods and infrastructure in the country after the immense destruction caused by Cyclone Ditwah. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has been providing exceptional leadership by going into the cyclone affected communities in person, to mingle directly with the people there and to offer encouragement and hope to them. A President who can be in the midst of people when they are suffering and in sorrow is a true leader. In a political culture where leaders have often been distant from the everyday hardships of ordinary people, this visible presence would have a reassuring psychological effect.
The international community appears to be comfortable with the government and has been united in giving it immediate support. Whether it be Indian and US helicopters that provided essential airlift capacity or cargo loads of relief material that have come from numerous countries, or funds raised from the people of tiny Maldives, the support has given Sri Lankans the sense of being a part of the world family. The speed and breadth of this response has contrasted sharply with the isolation Sri Lanka experienced during some of the darker moments of its recent past.
There is no better indicator of the international goodwill to Sri Lanka as in the personal donations for emergency relief that have been made by members of the diplomatic corps in Sri Lanka. Such gestures go beyond formal diplomacy and suggest a degree of personal confidence in the direction in which the country is moving. The office of the UN representative in Sri Lanka has now taken the initiative to launch a campaign for longer term support, signalling that emergency assistance can be a bridge to sustained engagement rather than a one-off intervention.
Balanced Statement
In a world that has turned increasingly to looking after narrow national interests rather than broad common interests, Sri Lanka appears to have found a way to obtain the support of all countries. It has received support from countries that are openly rivals to each other. This rare convergence reflects a perception that Sri Lanka is not seeking to play one power against another, and balancing them, but rather to rebuild itself on the basis of stability, inclusiveness and responsible governance.
An excerpt from an interview that President Dissanayake gave to the US based Newsweek magazine is worth reproducing. In just one paragraph he has summed up Sri Lankan foreign policy that can last the test of time. A question Newsweek put to the president was: “Sri Lanka sits at the crossroads of Chinese built infrastructure, Indian regional influence and US economic leverage. To what extent does Sri Lanka truly retain strategic autonomy, and how do you balance these relationships?”
The president replied: “India is Sri Lanka’s closest neighbour, separated by about 24 km of ocean. We have a civilisational connection with India. There is hardly any aspect of life in Sri Lanka that is not connected to India in some way or another. India has been the first responder whenever Sri Lanka has faced difficulty. India is also our largest trading partner, our largest source of tourism and a significant investor in Sri Lanka. China is also a close and strategic partner. We have a long historic relationship—both at the state level and at a political party level. Our trade, investment and infrastructure partnership is very strong. The United States and Sri Lanka also have deep and multifaceted ties. The US is our largest market. We also have shared democratic values and a commitment to a rules-based order. We don’t look at our relations with these important countries as balancing. Each of our relationships is important to us. We work with everyone, but always with a single purpose – a better world for Sri Lankans, in a better world for all.”
Wider Issues
The President’s articulation of foreign relations, especially the underlying theme of working with everyone for the wellbeing of all, resonates strongly in the context of the present crisis. The willingness of all major partners to assist Sri Lanka simultaneously suggests that goodwill generated through effective disaster response can translate into broader political and diplomatic space. Within the country, the government has been successful in calling for and in obtaining the support of civil society which has an ethos of filling in gaps by seeking the inclusion of marginalised groups and communities who may be left out of the mainstream of development.
Civil society organisations have historically played a crucial role in Sri Lanka during times of crisis, often reaching communities that state institutions struggle to access. Following a meeting with CSOs, at which the president requested their support and assured them of their freedom to choose, the CSOs mobilised in all flood affected parts of the country, many of them as part of a CSO Collective for Emergency Response. An important initiative was to undertake the task of ascertaining the needs of the cyclone affected people. Volunteers from a number of civil society groups fanned out throughout the country to collect the necessary information. This effort helped to ground relief efforts in real needs rather than assumptions, reducing duplication and ensuring that assistance reached those most affected.
The priority that the government is currently having to give to post-cyclone rebuilding must not distract it from giving priority attention to dealing with postwar issues. The government has the ability and value-system to resolve other national problems. Resolving issues of post disaster rebuilding in the aftermath of the cyclone have commonalities in relation to the civil war that ended in 2009. The failure of successive governments to address those issues has prompted the international community to continuously question and find fault with Sri Lanka at the UN. This history has weighed heavily on Sri Lanka’s international standing and has limited its ability to fully leverage external support.
Required Urgency
At a time when the international community is demonstrating enormous goodwill to Sri Lanka, the lessons learnt from their own experiences, and the encouraging support they are giving Sri Lanka at present, can and must be utilised. The government under President Dissanayake has committed to a non-racist Sri Lanka in which all citizens will be treated equally. The experience of other countries, such as the UK, India, Switzerland, Canada and South Africa show that problems between ethnic communities also require inter community power sharing in the form of devolution of power. Countries that have succeeded in reconciling diversity with unity have done so by embedding inclusion into governance structures rather than treating it as a temporary concession.
Sri Lanka’s present moment of international goodwill provides a rare opening to learn from these experiences with the encouragement and support of its partners, including civil society which has shown its readiness to join hands with the government in working for the people’s wellbeing. The unresolved problems of land resettlement, compensation for lost lives and homes, finding the truth about missing persons continue to weigh heavily on the minds and psyche of people in the former war zones of the north and east even as they do so for the more recent victims of the cyclone.
Unresolved grievances do not disappear with time. They resurface periodically, often in moments of political transition or social stress, undermining national cohesion. The government needs to ensure sustainable solutions not only to climate related development, but also to ethnic peace and national reconciliation. The government needs to bring together the urgency of disaster recovery with the long-postponed task of political reform as done in the Indonesian province of Aceh in the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami for which it needs bipartisan political support. Doing so could transform a national tragedy into a turning point for long lasting unity and economic take-off.
by Jehan Perera
Features
A wake-up call for stronger preparedness and coordination
Lessons from Ditwah:
Fifteen days after Cyclone Ditwah tore through the country, the floodwaters have receded and the immediate shock has given way to reflection. As of December 14, 2025, the bodies recovered from landslides have been laid to rest, survivors, whose homes were wiped out, are sheltered in Suraksha centres, and daily life has begun to inch forward. Roads, nearly 80 percent of them, have been reopened, power and water restored, and communities, through individual resolve and collective effort, have cleared homes and roads, even as heaps of damaged belongings still line the roadsides. Now, as the initial dust settles, the nation stands at a critical moment: beyond recovery, it is time to confront the deeper structural weaknesses laid bare by Ditwah.
Cyclone Ditwah has emerged as a defining test for Sri Lanka, both for the newly elected NPP government, facing its first major natural disaster, and for a nation still recovering from the economic collapse of 2022 and navigating the constraints of an IMF bailout programme. The storm not only challenged the country’s disaster-response machinery but also revealed the resilience of its people, the strengths of its leadership, and the gaps that must be urgently addressed as climate-related catastrophes become increasingly frequent.
Presidential Leadership in Times of National Crisis
From the earliest hours of the cyclone’s impact, President Anura Kumara Dissanayaka took an active and visible role in directing the government machinery. His rapid mobilisation of state institutions, technical agencies, and the Armed Forces helped Sri Lanka confront a multi-layered and complex emergency that spanned damaged roads, disrupted power lines, unsafe water supplies, landslides, and widespread displacement. The administration’s coordination, during these initial hours, set the tone for what became one of the most intensive emergency-response efforts in recent years. Mobilising and coordinating government institutions solely through presidential initiative is not an ideal administrative practice. A resilient state must, instead, ensure that its institutions are structurally prepared to act seamlessly when disaster strikes, closing the systemic gaps exposed by Cyclone Ditwah.
The President’s visits to all affected districts strengthened on-the-ground coordination by bringing together district coordinating committees, public officials, political representatives, and community organisations to align relief and reconstruction with local realities, while also helping to identify bottlenecks and clarify institutional responsibilities. However, these same district-level meetings exposed serious shortcomings in disaster governance: weak inter-agency communication, unclear response mandates, gaps in early-warning systems, and uneven political leadership at the local level. In several instances, critical information failed to reach the right actors in time, and some elected representatives were slow to engage, prompting the President to direct provincial governors to personally assess landslide-prone areas—underscoring the urgent need for a more robust, integrated disaster-management framework and stronger local political participation during crises.
Cyclone Ditwah serves as a powerful reminder that Sri Lanka must prepare better, long before the next storm arrives. Effective disaster response depends not only on the commitment of the central government and security forces but also on pre-trained communities and seamless cooperation between agencies at every administrative tier. This article seeks to contribute to a constructive national conversation on the lessons learned from Cyclone Ditwah. The intention is not to assign blame but to highlight the insights necessary to build a more resilient, better-coordinated system capable of protecting lives and livelihoods in the face of future disasters.
Equally notable was the spontaneous civic mobilisation that unfolded across the country. Communities self-organised to clear debris, distribute food, assist vulnerable families, and provide temporary shelter, demonstrating a deep social solidarity that often surfaces during national crises. In many affected districts, local volunteers were the first to reach remote or isolated areas, complementing government and military operations.
Rethinking Responses to Recurrent Climate Emergencies
Sri Lanka is no stranger to weather-related disasters, and Cyclone Ditwah is neither the first nor the last event the nation will confront. Over the past decade alone, the country has endured floods, landslides, droughts, and cyclones of varying intensity. These recurring emergencies underscore an undeniable truth: climate-related shocks are now a structural part of Sri Lanka’s future, demanding a disaster-management system that is agile, integrated, and continuously updated.
After the devastation of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, Sri Lanka invested significant effort in building its institutional infrastructure for disaster risk reduction. Agencies were established, frameworks were drafted, and early-warning mechanisms were introduced with the hope of preventing a repeat of such a tragedy. Yet the experience of Cyclone Ditwah has revealed that many of these institutions have become moribund—functioning in isolation, following outdated protocols, and lacking the coordination needed for an effective national response. While the systems technically exist, they are not fully aligned with the mission they were created to serve. Too many agencies operate within narrowly defined mandates and fail to communicate or integrate their work with related entities. This siloed approach weakens the overall national response and limits the ability of institutions to mobilise collectively when disaster strikes.
Once again Ditwah highlighted the need for reliable early-warning system that requires constant technological upgrading. A robust interface between technology and institutional networks is essential. Advanced and accessible communication technologies—early-warning systems, mobile alerts, satellite data, and community-level dissemination platforms— should play a crucial role in transforming timely information into effective action. Timely alerts, data-sharing mechanisms, communication networks, and community-level outreach must keep pace with global standards and evolving climatic threats. The gaps observed during Cyclone Ditwah indicate that Sri Lanka’s early warning systems need stronger digital infrastructure, better interoperability, and clearer channels for dissemination to all communities, especially those in vulnerable zones. Disaster risk management cannot rely solely on community participation.
Building a Disaster Management Architecture
Sri Lanka gained independence in 1948 in the aftermath of the devastating island-wide floods in 1947. Since then, the country has repeatedly faced severe natural disasters—particularly windstorms and floods—in 1957, 1964, 1969, 1976, 1986, and 1989. Yet, despite this long and painful history, no single, dedicated institutional mechanism existed, within the state, to manage disaster-related activities, until the mid-1990s. Responsibility for disaster response remained fragmented across multiple agencies, largely operating under the broad and limited mandate of social services.
A decisive institutional shift began in 1994 with the establishment of the National Disaster Management Centre (NDMC) by President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga, under the Ministry of Social Welfare. The NDMC was tasked with coordinating disaster preparedness, mitigation, emergency response, recovery, and long-term rehabilitation and development. It also initiated the development of a comprehensive legal and policy framework for disaster management. By 2000, the NDMC had completed draft versions of the Disaster Management Bill and the National Disaster Management Plan. However, these initiatives stalled and were never formally adopted following the change of government in 2001.
The catastrophic human, economic, and social consequences of the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami starkly exposed the limitations of this incomplete framework and underscored the urgent need for a systematic and comprehensive approach to disaster management. In response, disaster preparedness was elevated to a national priority, and on 10 February, 2005, a bipartisan Parliamentary Select Committee was appointed. Its mandate was to examine gaps in preparedness revealed by the Tsunami of 26 December, 2004, assess the absence of effective early-warning mechanisms, and recommend measures to strengthen institutional readiness and reduce the impact of future natural disasters.
The Parliamentary Select Committee met 28 times and produced a wide-ranging report within a short span, marking a decisive policy moment in Sri Lanka’s approach to disaster management. Its findings laid bare deep structural weaknesses in hazard mapping and risk assessment, preparedness, early-warning systems, mitigation, emergency response, and public awareness. Acting on these recommendations, Parliament enacted the Sri Lanka Disaster Management Act, No. 13 of 2005—finally providing a legal foundation for coordinated disaster governance.
The Disaster Management Act of 2005 brought forward significant changes in the institutional framework for disaster management. It created the National Council for Disaster Management (NCDM), a high-level political body, chaired by the President, with the Prime Minister as Vice Chair, and established the Disaster Management Centre (DMC) as the country’s lead implementing agency. The DMC was mandated to coordinate disaster risk reduction at national and sub-national levels, supported by Disaster Management Committees at district and divisional levels. A dedicated Cabinet Ministry of Disaster Management and Human Rights followed in 2006, later streamlined as the Ministry of Disaster Management in 2010. On paper, this architecture promised coherence, authority, and reach.
Parallel to the setting up of new institutional framework for disaster management, the process of disaster management policy planning and policy formulation has taken a new turn. ‘The Disaster Management Policy of 2010’, prepared by DMC, in 2010, was adopted as the main policy line for disaster management. Furthermore, DMC developed ‘The National Disaster Management Plan of 2013-2017’(NDMP) in 2014 as the overall guiding document covering intended activities of the major phases–mitigation, preparedness, emergency operations and post disaster activities, such as relief, recovery and reconstruction. Training, public awareness and education are also covered in the above phases. It envisaged a multi-sector approach in which involvement of NGOs and CBOs are expected to translate policies into tangible action. Further, in 2014, NCDM approved the Sri Lanka Comprehensive Disaster Management Programme (SLCDMP) for 2014-2018 to reduce disaster and climate risks by minimising impacts on people, properties, and the economy. SLCDMP also presented a comprehensive roadmap to improve capacity of local level operators by institutionalising local level support in its planning. It was prepared by the National Disaster Management Coordinating Committee (NDMCC), a multi-stakeholder national platform, established in November 2007 who also plays a key role in implementing disaster risk reduction strategies in the country. This is a clear manifestation of confusion and duplication of disaster management work.
Technological and informational capacities improved with the establishment of a Disaster Information System in 2008, supported by UNDP, and the gradual rollout of nationwide early-warning systems. Responsibility for hazard monitoring was formally vested in the Meteorological Department and the Geological Survey and Mines Bureau, operating through the Disaster Management Centre’s Emergency Operations Centre. While these developments marked genuine progress, their effectiveness has remained uneven in practice. International partners, such as UNDP, have produced extensive analyses and recommendations, but ultimate responsibility of implementation rests with domestic institutions. The core problem lies not in the absence of information, but in weak implementation, limited inter-agency cooperation, and persistent administrative inaction.
Fragmented Institutions and the Cost of Poor Coordination
At the heart of these shortcomings are deeper features of Sri Lanka’s political and administrative culture. Disaster management has frequently been treated as a politically advantageous domain—offering visibility and access to state resources—resulting in its fragmentation across multiple ministries and agencies. This dispersion undermines integrated planning, weakens accountability, and hampers coordination precisely when speed and clarity are most critical. The consequences of inadequate preparedness, poor inter-agency coordination, and inconsistent public messaging have repeatedly emerged during major crises. This was evident in the MV X-Press Pearl disaster in May 2021, where information on hazardous cargo damage was not shared across agencies. Similarly, the lack of inter-agency communication was a prominent issue during Cyclone Ditwah in December 2025.
Technological and informational capacities improved with the establishment of a Disaster Information System in 2008, supported by UNDP, and the gradual rollout of nationwide early-warning systems. Responsibility for hazard monitoring was formally vested in the Meteorological Department and the Geological Survey and Mines Bureau, operating through the Disaster Management Centre’s Emergency Operations Centre. However, their effectiveness has remained uneven in practice.
International partners, such as UNDP and other multi-lateral agencies, have produced extensive analyses and recommendations, but ultimate responsibility of implementation rests with domestic institutions. The core problem lies not in the absence of information and recommendations , but in weak implementation, limited inter-agency cooperation, and persistent administrative inaction.
NGOs: Critical Actors with Structural Limits
Another critical dimension of Sri Lanka’s disaster-management landscape is the prominent role played by non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and, to a lesser extent, private-sector institutions across almost every phase of the disaster-management cycle. Their contribution is especially visible at the community level, where state reach is often limited. It is, however, important to distinguish between spontaneous voluntary community action and the more structured, project-driven modes of operation, typical of NGOs. This distinction does not diminish the importance of NGOs; rather, it helps clarify both their strengths and their limitations within a national disaster-management framework.
NGO engagement is particularly valuable in Community-Based Disaster Risk Management (CBDRM), where sustained local participation is essential. Through CBDRM initiatives, NGOs help Disaster-Risk Communities identify, analyse, and monitor risks, develop locally appropriate mitigation strategies, and strengthen coping capacities. Many international humanitarian organisations coordinate their work through the UN Humanitarian Country Team, while several local initiatives demonstrate the transformative potential of community-centred action. The Community Tsunami Early-Warning Centre (CTEC) in Peraliya, established with the support of two foreign donors and a Sri Lankan medical doctor, is a notable example. Equipped with round-the-clock internet-linked computers receiving real-time alerts from the US Geological Survey, CTEC has built a network of 30 focal points across the Galle District, each comprising 10 village representatives—illustrating how informed communities can play a frontline role in risk mitigation.
The Sarvodaya Community Disaster Risk Management Centre in Moratuwa further underscores the constructive role NGOs can play. Sarvodaya has worked to establish disaster-management committees linked with government district-level officers, strengthening coordination between communities and the state. In partnership with LIRNEasia, it has also developed early-warning systems designed to deliver alerts directly to households. With more than 50,000 community-based organisations, Sri Lanka possesses a potentially powerful grassroots network capable of making a decisive impact on disaster preparedness, response, and recovery. These organisations have been tasked with identifying vulnerable groups within their communities and ensuring their protection during emergencies—a role they performed actively in the aftermath of the 2004 Tsunami.
Yet, despite this potential, Sri Lankan NGOs, as a sector, suffer from persistent structural weaknesses. Many remain heavily dependent on international donor funding and tend to become inactive once external financing diminishes. Over time, this has led to cycles of intense activity during high-profile disasters, followed by organisational stagnation and decline. Unless NGO engagement is better integrated into long-term national planning, supported by stronger domestic institutional linkages and sustainable funding mechanisms, their contribution will remain episodic rather than transformative.
Early Warning Systems: From Forecasting to Community Action
The recent experience of Cyclone Ditwah has once again underscored the critical importance of effective early warning systems in mitigating the impact of natural disasters. Sri Lanka’s vulnerability to such events was starkly evident during the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami. The first tsunami waves hit the eastern coast of Sri Lanka at approximately 6.40 a.m. on 26th December, about one hour and forty minutes after the earthquake. A secondary wave struck approximately 20 minutes later. The western coastal area was hit by the tsunami waves much later. The tsunami hit the southern coastal city of Hambantota at about 9.10 a.m. and Peraliya on the south-western coast, where the train tragedy took place, at 10.10 a.m., three and a half hours after the first wave, the tsunami hit the eastern coast of Sri Lanka. If an emergency disaster early-warning communication system were in place, at least a part of the human disaster on the Western coast could have been avoided. More than two decades later, Ditwah revealed that preparedness remains inadequate, and simply issuing statements from government agencies is insufficient. Early warnings must be actively communicated to communities, accompanied by clear action plans implemented by relevant authorities, to ensure people are informed, prepared, and able to respond effectively to impending disasters.

A landslide
Cultural and Ethnic Sensitivity in Disaster Response
One of the most important lessons highlighted by Cyclone Ditwah is the critical need for inclusivity and sensitivity in a multi-ethnic, post-conflict society like Sri Lanka. Emerging from the ashes of a devastating ethnic conflict, the country must ensure that national unity and ethnic harmony remain central to every policy and action, especially during crises. Ditwah revealed that some state institutions are not yet fully equipped to operate effectively in a multi-ethnic, multi-linguistic environment. Crucial notices and statements were, at times, released solely in Sinhala, in violation of the language policy enshrined in the Constitution. While practical administrative challenges may exist, it is the responsibility of political leadership to ensure that these requirements are addressed proactively. When vital information fails to reach communities in their own languages during emergencies, those communities would experience alienation and discrimination, with potentially grave consequences. In a multi-ethnic, post-conflict society, sensitivity to ethno-political dynamics is not optional—it is imperative across all phases of disaster management: preparedness, emergency response, and post-disaster recovery.
The real challenge begins now, and Sri Lanka cannot afford complacency. Resettling displaced and vulnerable communities is a formidable task that demands more than community goodwill—government institutions must bear the brunt of these responsibilities. Piles of spoiled food and debris left unattended in cities can quickly create serious public health hazards, underscoring the need for swift and organised action. With the North-Eastern Monsoon approaching, the country must be prepared for any eventuality.
Foreign Humanitarian Assistance and Its Geopolitical Dimensions
Sri Lanka did not stand alone in the wake of Ditwah. The country received substantial international assistance—not only in emergency humanitarian relief, but also in expertise, equipment, and resources for recovery and reconstruction. This support reflects the goodwill Sri Lanka continues to command globally, while also underscoring the need for credible and efficient domestic systems capable of coordinating effectively with foreign partners. At the same time, emergency relief is never geopolitically neutral. Sri Lanka must therefore approach foreign disaster assistance with a clear understanding of its national interests—without retreating into a besieged mentality. Instead, the challenge is to manage geopolitical competition to our advantage through an approach of omni-enmeshment: engaging all major powers simultaneously through dense networks of cooperation, institutions, and partnerships, creating mutual stakes and reducing the likelihood of strategic pressure or conflict.
Rethinking Development Strategies under Climate Stress
Beyond immediate relief, Cyclone Ditwah forces us to rethink the development model we are pursuing. Decades of deforestation and unplanned urban expansion have amplified the country’s vulnerability: between 1990 and 2010, Sri Lanka lost an average of 24,500 hectares of forest per year, totaling nearly 21 percent of its forest cover (Sri Lanka Forest Information and Data, The Rainforest S.). Forests once absorbed and regulated rainwater, but their loss has accelerated floods, triggered landslides, and intensified droughts, while impervious urban surfaces exacerbate flash flooding. The country is now paying the price for these environmental and planning failures, making comprehensive, forward-looking strategies a matter of urgent necessity.
Lessons from Ditwah and the Path Forward
Cyclone Ditwah is more than a weather event—it is a wake-up call that Sri Lanka must strengthen its resilience against future disasters. Fragmented responsibility, weak inter-agency coordination, and inconsistent communication are vulnerabilities that put lives and livelihoods at risk. We are compelled to face the challenges posed by extreme weather events repeatedly in the future. Learning and applying the lessons of Cyclone Ditwah is crucial for political leaders, state institutions, NGOs, and communities alike. Only by building a culture of preparedness, accountability, and coordination can the nation shift crisis response from reactive improvisation to proactive, life-saving action.
Prof. Gamini Kerawella can be accessed through keerawellag@gmail.com
by Prof. Gamini Keerawella
Features
The reality facing Sri Lankans, govt. and Opposition
The Malimawa government has been in power only for about one year. So, we cannot say that they are not competent or able to develop the country, or that they are corrupt or less corrupt compared to the Yahapalanaya or the Rajapaksa Regimes whose records within their initial years were “not dissimilar”.
The Yahapalanaya Govt., and the Rajapakasa government in their initial years (and in fact throughout) had to face various natural and other disasters.
In 2005 Rajapaksas were still dealing with the December 2004 Tsunami, and the onslaught of the LTTE, attempted assassinations of Fonseka and Gota, followed by the Mavil Aru sluice gate closure and the launching of the Eelam war IV. Key natural disasters during their period included the following.
2006 Floods: Sri Lanka experienced floods during both the first inter-monsoon season and the second inter-monsoon season.
2008 Floods: More flood events were recorded, particularly in November, affecting thousands of people.
2010 Floods: Heavy monsoon rains in May caused flash floods, high winds, and landslides across 13 districts.
January 2011 Floods: This was a major event where heavy monsoon rains affected an estimated 1.8 million people and destroyed vast amounts of agricultural land, including rice fields. President Rajapaksa could not visit the affected areas due to the severity of the floods.
2012 Drought and Floods: A drought starting in late 2011 and lasting through 2012 dried water reservoirs and safe drinking water availability for around 1.8 million people. This was followed by floods.
2013 and 2014 Landslides and Floods: These years saw more heavy rainfall, floods and landslides killing dozens of people due to early-warning system failures. A major landslide occurred in October 2014 in Meeriyabedda. This was also a period when Ven. Ratana, Dr. Channa Jayasumana and others were becoming very active in undermining the agricultural sector with their hair-brained ideas.
The government established the Disaster Management Act of 2005, No. 13. It helped to better prepare for such events, although implementation faced challenges.
When Yahapanaya came to power, the tropical Storm Roanu brought heavy monsoon rains and caused the worst flooding in Sri Lanka in 25 years. The disasters resulted in over 100 deaths, left many missing, affected nearly half a million people, and damaged over 58,000 houses. The economic damage was substantial, particularly to agriculture and infrastructure. Then the
A second major disaster occurred in May 2017, worsened by the precursor to Cyclone Mora. This disaster affected 15 districts, killed over 200 people, and displaced hundreds of thousands.
Today, the country is in dire straits after the Ditwah cyclone. Curiously enough, the Malimawa faced with Ditwah did not implement the Disaster management mechanism (2005, Act.13) set up in 2005.
Today the Malimawa hands are tied down by the IMF agreements that they have been forced to accept (and here there was no other option as no country came forward to provide an over-arching loan). So, Sri Lanka is like a log caught by the forces of international trade and carried along by the current, with no independent strength of its own (because of JRJ’s open economy which boosted the wealth, but at the same time squashed the rise of local industries).
A significant worry is that the Malimawa government has not launched or even proposed any long-term development projects of any consequence, except for mere cursory statements at the manifesto level. This is the worrying thing that Sri Lankans need to look at.
However, it could be argued that the current government SHOULD be encouraged to stay in power (instead of pulling it down) because elections are very costly, disruptive, and even if a new government comes in, they still have to follow the IMF and World-Bank dictated policies that hit Sri Lanka after the declaration of bankruptcy during Gotabhaya’s time.
It could also be argued that if the Malimaawa continues to govern, then it will mess things up even more. If that be so, it may ensure their doom in the next round of elections.
A new government at any time will take another year or even more to learn the ropes, and one may ask if the country could afford that. Public opinion seems to hold that the old leaders (of the UNP, SLFP, or Pohottuwa) are now like spent tea, rotten, useless, and cannot and should not be brought back, even though the strong corruption charges leveled at them by the Malimawa leaders during the election have not led to court cases. The leaders in waiting, like Sajith or Namal, are not yet seen to be inspiring the public in any significant way.
People who can influence the government should try to help it launch some long-term projects that could fall into place as the IMF-controlled period wanes. This is true, irrespective of which government is in power, given the current circumstances facing Sri Lanka.
That is, there are things that the private sector alone cannot do, that only a government can do.
For instance, (i) Planning to achieve self-sufficiency in energy by developing alternative energies, biofuels etc. (ii) Planning to achieve self-sufficiency in basic food stuffs, establishing an infrastructure for their distribution and sale. (iii) Exploitation of critical minerals available in the country but requiring significant capital investments and overcoming complex environmental issues. (iv) Re-development of infrastructure (power grid, roads, high-speed railways instead of the old snail rails of the British era), taking account of the fact that the country must be ready for future weather disasters of much higher magnitude than Ditwah. This last need is presumably being considered by the government right now, and one may say it will take months to do new land surveys of the damage and create new plans. Finding the money may take longer. However, the plans must come before the funding.
Is the Malimava government capable of rising to the occasion, or has it lost the compass and is drifting in the doldrums, is a question that one cannot easily answer. Unfortunately, the general levels of optimism and enthusiasm of the public towards the government seem to have decreased significantly and the government must wake up to the reality.
By Chandre Dharmawardana
chandre.dharma@yahoo.ca
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