Connect with us

Features

Rise and fall of ‘Abraham Lincoln of the East’

Published

on

D.S. Senanayake

Here are some snippets about the late D.S. Senanayake, the father of the Free Nation that was born on February 4, 1948. His 136th birth anniversary falls on October 20, 2020. On October 20 were also born Mahathma Gandhi, the Father of Modern India and Sir Oliver Goonetilleke who, together with D.S., shaped the destiny of our country.

With D.S. it was “Colombo giyath, gama Botale,” meaning his resounding successes in Colombo did not make him forget his native village of Botale. (A rare trait at any time, with many villagers becoming VIPs in Colombo and immediately breaking all ties with their kith and kin and village).

Yes, he was always a son of he soil, with the native wit Sri Lankans are famous for, and sound commonsense or, as some call, it, horsesense. He was fiercely loyal to his men, his friends and his ‘gama’ and also to his old school. At a S. Thomas’ College Old Boys’ tamasha, he once said that the first thing he did when he got a diary for a new year was to note in it STC Old Boys’ Day and the two days of the Royal-Thomian Match. At this, a cheeky reporter is supposed to have asked him, “Sir, with you what comes first your country or your school?” And DS had replied with that throaty laugh of his, “My country, but by a short head!”.

The boy, D.S., who announced proudly to his father that he was the fourth in his class (‘Loku aiya’ Frederick Richard ‘F. R.’ Senanayake later pointed out that there were only four boys in the class) was not very fond of the cloistered atmosphere of the classroom, and would slip out at every opportunity, to wander around the school garden. One day, Warden Stone saw him, and calling up the errant student, said sharply, “What is this, Senanayake? You seem to be everywhere?” And young D.S. replied blandly, “Yes sir, just like God!”

D.S.’s greatest pal, in his schooldays, was Douglas de Saram, and one day, going to D.S.’s parental home, by train, they jumped out of it at Mirigama as the train did not stop there. They were arrested, produced in courts and discharged with a warning. As a student at STC, then at Mutwal, tough and mighty D.S. would oblige his friend by climbing a coconut tree, in the school garden, and bringing down an entire bunch of ‘Kurumba’, lest the sound of falling nuts should attract the attention of the teachers and prefects.

D.S. was very fond of Maldivian ‘diyahakuru and bondihalwa’ and would quite often board the Maldivian boats to get them. He was nicknamed ‘Kela John’ (Jungle John) by his friends.

When Douglas de Saram captained S. Thomas’ College, in the big matches of 1901 and 1902, D.S. Senanayake kept wickets for his school. Both his sons Dudley and Robert played cricket for S. Thomas’ College. Whenever he found the time, D.S. went to see his sons at play and joined the cheering squad.

After leaving school, D.S. served in the Government Survey Department, as a clerical hand. It was a Department that came under his control, years later, when he became the Minister of Agriculture and Lands. D.S. was going through a bad time. His worried father, Mudliyar Don Spater Senanayake consulted a prominent Buddhist monk, in Tangalle, who was a renowned astrologer. The monk studied D.S.’s horoscope and reassured the Mudliyar that there was nothing very serious to worry about and that when the boy’s malefic period was done, there would be no stopping him.

“He will rise slowly but steadily to the highest position in the country,” said the venerable monk. The Mudliyar scoffed at this rash prediction, for D.S. was very backward in his studies and considered the dunce of the family. “If you said that of my elder son F.R., I might have believed it,” said Mudliyar Senanayake. “Our country is under the British Raj now, with no sign of Independence within sight”.

Once D.S. told newsmen, who had gathered in his ancestral walawwa, in Botale, that many of the coconut trees, in the spacious garden, had been planted by himself. A very humane person, when a fellow villager got small-pox and nobody would go anywhere near the stricken man, D.S. promptly went into the man’s hut, heaved the man on to his shoulders and took him to hospital. Upon returning home, he rubbed some lime on his body, had a bath at the open well in the garden, and that was the end of the matter.

When he was manager of the plumbago mines, that belonged to his brother F.R., he found that many of the workers – huge, hefty fellows all of them – got involved in drunken brawls on payday. With a thick cudgel in his hand, he would go round the ‘wadiyas’ settling the fights. In Botale, his native village, hardly anyone ever went to courts. They would all come to D.S., who settled their disputes to the satisfaction of everybody concerned.

D.S. loved the rustic life and the company of the simple villager. As a young man, he would join the cart caravans bringing the Senanayake estate produce to Colombo, and he would sing the famous ‘Karatta-Kavi’, along with the carters. When he was imprisoned for 46 days, during the riots of 1915, he whiled away his time singing these ‘kavi’. Of course, what his fellow prisoners thought of this is not known.

Always loyal to his employees, D.S. was once in the Negombo Courts, where one of his men was the accused in a certain case. Spotting him, the Magistrate, an Englishmen said, “Mr. Senanayake, why don’t you come and sit at the Bar Table?” While the case was going on, the Magistrate told D.S. that he could cross-examine the prosecution witness and D.S. did so, to devastating effect. When the case was over and D.S.’s man discharged, some members of the Negombo Bar protested to the Magistrate. “That man is no lawyer,” they said. “Why did you allow him to cross-examine?” “No lawyer?” gasped the Magistrate aghast. “But, good God, I thought he was Mr. F. R. Senanayake, Barrister-at-Law!”

D.S. never gave in to opposition if he felt that anything was good for his country and his people. When he was in the Legislative Council, he proposed that the trout streams in Nuwara-Eliya, which was then the sacred preserve of the European Club, should be made open to the public. The club had introduced not only trout, but other varieties of fish, and at D.S.’s proposal, a European member jumped to his feet and roared, “Who put the fish there?” D.S. turned to the man and retorted. “Who put the streams there?”

In the year 1936, a gramophone record of the first Sinhala song, so melodiously, sung by the then 18-year-old Mohideen Beig and K. K. Rajalakshmi, was released. The song was composed by U. D. Perera and set to music by Mohamed Ghouse. They presented their first record to D.S., who was then the Minister of Agriculture and Lands, at his residence. D.S. summoned the entire household, including the domestic aids, and played it on his gramophone.

“Karuna Muhude Namu Gilila,

Prema Manohara Geetha Gayala….”

D.S. was no communalist, and his Tamil, Muslim and Burgher friends were many. In fact, when he was capped in jail, his Power-of-attorney was held by one of his friends, S. Sanmugum. It is said that D.S. met Oliver Goonetilleke quite by chance at the Orient Club one evening. It was the first time they had met, and it was the beginning of an association that was to shape the destiny of our country. Unkind critics of Sir Oliver said that he never left anything to chance, and, shrewd and far-sighted man that he was, he is sure to have engineered that ‘chance’ meeting.

He, with his shrewd and keen intelligence, pulled Sri Lanka out of many a messes she got into, thanks to the bungling stupidity and crass selfishness some of her politicians. In the mid 1940s, the British government sent the Soulbury Commission to Ceylon to explore the possibility of drafting a constitution that would give our people a greater say in the government of our country. Although D.S., the then leader of the State Council, and the ministers, at first boycotted the sittings of the Commission, D.S. was persuaded by Sir Oliver Goonetilleke (Sometimes referred to as “the wise old owl”) to make friendly overtures to Lord Soulbury.

They became good friends and when Lord Soulbury evinced a desire to see the country and assess for himself the living standards and the educational level of the ordinary people of our country, D.S. volunteered to show his Lordship around himself. So, one morning, Lord Solubury found himself seated next to D.S., driving up to Kandy in D.S.’s official limousine.

They passed the Kegalle town and were going through vast tracts of paddy fields. It being the Maha Season, the farmers were busy ploughing the paddy fields.

“Shall we stop for a moment and stretch our legs?” asked D.S. and Lord Soulbury nodded in agreement. Then they got out and watched the busy ploughmen. “Would you like to speak to one of them?” asked D.S. and once again Soulbury nodded in agreement. The rest of the story is described in the ‘Best of Amita’ book thus:

“Oi!” shouted D.S., in his stentorian voice. “Thamusela ekkenek mehe enawada poddak” (Will one of you come here for a moment”)

A burly middle-aged ploughman looked up and, handing his plough to another farmer, walked up to the distinguished duo. The farmer was bathed in mud but his bearing was proud and dignified.

“This is Lord Soulbury who has come here from England,” explained D.S. in Sinhala. “He wishes to speak to you. I’ll translate what he says into Sinhala, and what you say into English.”

To everybody’s astonishment, the farmer said in impeccable English: “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Senanayake. I’ll converse with his lordship in English.”



Continue Reading
Advertisement
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Features

‘Lord Edgware Dies’

Published

on

It has been some time since I read an Agatha Christie, the plot of which I cannot remember. So, I was delighted to find on the shelves of a friend Lord Edgware Dies, which I had a vague memory of, but no certainty about who had done it.

When I read it, I found that my memory of who was probably the killer was correct, but I could not be certain and the red herrings Christie threw in were so diverting that until almost the very end I wondered if I had been wrong.

The plot is very simple. Jane Wilkinson, who is married to Lord Edgware, tells him that she is desperate for a divorce since she is in love with a very proper Anglo-Catholic peer, Lord Melton, but Edgware refuses to divorce her. She asks Poirot to talk to him, which he does, and is surprised to find that Edgware has told Jane he is prepared to give her a divorce. This was, after he had categorically refused, through a letter, which Jane said she had not received.

That night Edgware is murdered, after Jane had been to see him, or so the butler said, and also Edgware’s secretary. But Jane had been that evening at a grand dinner many miles away, where a dozen fellow guests could swear to her presence.

There was a solution however to the mystery of two Jane Wilkinsons, namely a skilful impersonator called Carlotta Adams who, in the opening chapter had impersonated Jane Wilkinson, who had also been at the performance. But when Poirot goes to see her, he finds that she had been found dead on the morning after Edgware had been killed, of an overdose. And in her bag was a gold case, with a strange inscription, that contained the drug, along with a pair of pince-nez.

Her maid said she had written a letter to her sister in America and posted it the previous night. Poirot asks Inspector Japp to get the letter, and a transcript is received from America, and in it the name of Edgware’s nephew Ronald Marsh is mentioned; he had taken Carlotta to dinner after her performance, with which the book opens, and had then set her a challenge. Japp arrests Marsh, but Poirot is not happy and asks for the original of the letter, which the sister sends him. That shows that a page is missing, and the tear is obvious, though that raises the question as to why it had not simply been cut.

Matters are further complicated by the fact that Marsh had gone in a taxi to the Edgware house, along with Edgware’s daughter Geraldine, in the interval of an opera which had previously seemed to provide them with cast iron alibis. Geraldine had gone in to fetch her pearls so that Marsh could raise money he needed, and thus had an opportunity to kill Edgware, as did Marsh, for the driver said he had got out of the taxi while waiting and gone into the house.

Agatha Christie

Marsh explained why he had gone to the house on the night of the murder as having followed Bryan Martin, an American actor, who had been in love with Jane, whom he saw go into the house with a key. But there was no one visible when he entered, and Geraldine almost immediately came down and they left together. And Martin too has become an object of suspicion to Poirot, for he had been to see him before the murders were discovered with a story of being followed by a man with a gold tooth – a story Poirot immediately realized was false when he was asked how old the man was, and was told he was young, for young people did not have gold teeth.

A heap of French money Edgware had got for a trip to Paris was missing, but since Marsh had no need for it after his cousin’s offer of help, Poirot deduces that it must have been taken by the butler, who has disappeared. Christie has stressed that he is astonishingly handsome, unusual in a butler, and Poirot notes a resemblance to Martin, so he thinks the mysterious man going into the house must have been him.

Incidentally, later Poirot assumes that Edgware’s change of mind was because he was involved in some scandal, and I believe Christie intends us to see the cause of this in his handsome butler, though this is not specified.

Meanwhile, Poirot has asked Japp to find out the provenance of the case found in Carlotta’s handbag, and it turns out to have been made in Paris, specially commissioned, and collected by a woman with pince-nez.

But then another murder occurs—that of another guest at the grand dinner, which provided Jane with her alibi. The victim is an actor who had been bemused when Jane, at a lunch, thought the Judgment of Paris referred to the city. He told Hastings he wanted to see Poirot, but was killed before he could get to the appointment. Poirot had rushed there when told about his request, but it was too late.

Meanwhile, Poirot has tried out the pince-nez on Edgware’s secretary, but she could not see through these. It was only a chance remark heard outside the theatre that led him to try them out on Wilkinson’s maid Ellis, a spare pair that had been appropriated for the night of the murders.

Poirot then lays things out, having summoned Martin and told him that he probably suppressed Edgware’s letter, as he had been dropped by then and he did not want Jane to marry another. But after teasing Martin, Poirot says that Jane was in fact the murderer, and she got Carlotta to impersonate her at the dinner while she went to the house and killed her husband. After meeting Carlotta later and checking with her through a call that she had not been rumbled, Jane had gone ahead with the murder – she put veronal into her drink and the case with veronal into the handbag. She forgot to take out the pince-nez she had used earlier to imitate an American. Carlotta had registered as the American in a hotel and Jane had gone to see her, and there they exchanged identities. After seen the letter, she made use of it by tearing off the page that referred to her, and the S of She, so that the person who had challenged Carlotta to impersonate her seemed to be a man.

There is a coda in which Jane, condemned to death, writes to Hastings, still full of pride at her ingenuity hoping she will be remembered.

Continue Reading

Features

Desilt reservoirs, learn from our ancient irrigation systems

Published

on

Polgolla

by Prof. O. A. Ileperuma

Silting of reservoirs is a major problem today affecting our hydropower production and irrigation systems. The main Mahaweli reservoirs are silted to a considerable extent reducing the water holding capacity of them. Due to poor soil management practices, floodwaters deposit large amounts of silt in these reservoirs. When the Polgolla reservoir was fully drained about two years back, one could see mountains of silt in the lower reaches of the reservoir. A rough estimate is that 50% of the total capacity of these reservoirs has been lost to siltation. This is a serious issue which affects not only power and agriculture but also flood control.

Our ancient irrigation systems ensured that desilting of reservoirs took place under royal decree where all users of the reservoirs were ordered to carry out desilting of reservoirs during the dry season. The clay thus collected was used in making bricks for the construction of great stupas which dot the landscape of our ancient kingdoms. This ensured that the reservoirs had their full capacity filled with water for the next cultivating season. Our ancient kings were clever enough not to construct reservoirs by blocking main rivers such as the Mahaweli. A classic example is the Minipe left canal where they tapped only the surface water of Mahaweli. Even the bigger tanks such as Nuwara Wewa and Parakrama Samudraya were fed with minor rivulets. There were also other ingenious features in the cascade irrigation systems built by the ancient kings, such as mud sluice canals and forest reservations between the reservoirs in the cascade system. These reservations helped trap silt and remove excess nutrients, which could otherwise contribute to increasing salinity as water flowed from one reservoir to another.

Victoria

Moragahakanda

A classic engineering marvel is the former Yoda Ela, which carries water from Kalawewa to Nuwara Wewa and Tissa Wewa. It is 87 km long although the straight distance between these points is only about 40 km. The gradient of this canal is about 10 cm per km or 6 inches per mile. Yodha Ela functions as a moving reservoir and feeds about 4,600 hectares of paddy lands. It is a winding canal with about 120 smaller reservoirs on its way. It was constructed during the reign of King Dhatusena around 459 AD and later expanded by King Parakramabahu by connecting more reservoirs to the network. Unfortunately, during the Mahaweli project our modern-day engineers constructed a concrete canal replacing the winding path of this Yoda Ela also called Jaya Ganga. This effectively removed the ability of the old Yoda Ela to remove silt and nutrients. The bank of this Ela has wet zone trees such as jak and areca nut growing well. They take up the nutrients from the flowing stream making the water suitable for irrigation later.

Ancient Mesopotamian civilisations depended on dams constructed along the two main rivers, Euphrates and Tigris. After continuous irrigation of their fields over several thousand years, salinity of the irrigated lands increased making them unsuitable for agriculture. People died due to famine and this clearly illustrates the danger of blocking main rivers for agriculture. There is scientific evidence that the salinity of paddy soils in the Mahaweli C area is increasing.

We saw the devastation caused by Cyclone Ditwah. The sluice gates of the Kotmale Reservoir were opened, and Kandy and Peradeniya were flooded. If the reservoir had had greater storage capacity, couldn’t the opening of the gates have been delayed? This may not be an argument that modern-day engineers would readily accept, and I am not an irrigation expert. These ideas may well be naïve. But most of us tend to think of reservoirs mainly in terms of hydropower generation and irrigation, while their role in flood control receives much less attention. The question therefore deserves serious consideration. Could restoring lost reservoir capacity through desilting help improve our ability to manage extreme rainfall and reduce flood risks?

Desilting our reservoirs should be considered a national priority.

Continue Reading

Features

Losing out to Ethiopia

Published

on

From Trailblazer to Tailender

Export diversification – Missing the wood for the trees – Part III

by Gomi Senadhira

In Sri Lanka, the word “Ethiopia” is often used as disparaging slang to describe individuals or areas experiencing extreme poverty, starvation, or severe economic hardship. This linguistic habit originated in the 1980s with the Western media coverage of the devastating Ethiopian famine of 1983-85. That media coverage shocked the world but also left an outdated and offensive global stereotype that the country is permanently starving. Much has changed since then. By now, with an annual growth rate of around 9%, it is the fastest-growing economy in sub-Saharan Africa. Ethiopia has also emerged as a highly competitive exporter and is challenging not only its competitors in the region but also countries like Sri Lanka. This article is on how Sri Lanka has lost ground to Ethiopia (and a few other countries) in the GCC markets for agricultural and floricultural products.

Sri Lanka – A Pioneer in the Agriculture and Floricultural Market in the GCC

As discussed in Part II of this article, by the mid-1980s Sri Lanka had established a strong foothold in the GCC’s fruit, vegetable, and floricultural market. Geographical proximity and well-established shipping and air links gave Sri Lanka a strong comparative advantage over Southeast Asian and African nations. Thailand, Vietnam, and Kenya were not even in the market. At that time, Ethiopia was experiencing (as BBC news reports described) “a biblical famine”.

The market was not very large, but it was lucrative and growing. Trade Minister Lalith Athulathmudali as well as the Chairman of the Export Development Board, Victor Santiapillai, who visited Kuwait (and the GCC countries), recognised the market potential for these products and encouraged us to continue with our work. The minister was particularly keen to further develop links between the market for these products, exporters, and his Export Production Villages (EPVs). So, it was becoming a successful case not only for export diversification but also for transferring gains from exports directly to rural households.

From Trailblazer to Tailender

As a result, even by the beginning of this century Sri Lanka had a larger market share than most of its competitors from Asia or Africa. But since then, our competitiveness has weakened significantly. The tables below provide a comparative snapshot of Sri Lanka’s performance vis-à-vis Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya and Ethiopia in the GCC market for vegetables, fruits and floricultural products. As illustrated therein, in 2001 Sri Lanka was ahead of Thailand, Kenya and Ethiopia in this small but rapidly growing market. Since then, we have fallen behind Thailand, Kenya and many other countries in that lucrative market. If this trend continues, Sri Lanka will fall behind Ethiopia within the next few years. (See Table 1)

In the GCC market for vegetables (covered in HS chapter 07), Sri Lanka was ahead of most other competitors in 2001. As illustrated in Table 1 , Sri Lanka had failed to develop this market, while Thailand, Kenya, and even Ethiopia had very efficiently increased their market shares. The GCC is a market to which Sri Lanka can supply some vegetables, like cabbages, by sea. It appears Sri Lanka had also failed to exploit this mode of supply.

We can see a similar trend in the market for fruits. Vietnam, Kenya, and Thailand have emerged as major players, while exports from Sri Lanka have staggered on slowly. In this segment, Vietnam has emerged as a leading player during the last twenty years and the GCC imports from Viet Nam have shot up from US$44 thousand in 2001 to US$346 million by 2024. In part one of these articles, I discussed the remarkable increase of jackfruit exports from Vietnam “…just $3 million in 2015 to an impressive $236.8 million in 2023” while most of our jackfruit production rots under the trees. This explains how countries develop their markets, geographically and product-wise. (See Table 2)

Sri Lanka’s performance has been weakest in the market for floricultural products (HS Chapter 06), which groups live trees, cut flowers, and ornamental foliage. When we first entered the market in the 1980s, the market was dominated by the Netherlands, and Kenya and Ethiopia were not even in the market. At that time, we identified the Gulf states as a market where Sri Lanka could have a dominant presence due to geographical proximity. Even in 2001, Sri Lanka was ahead of Kenya, Ethiopia, and Thailand. But by now, Kenya has emerged as the dominant supplier. Ethiopia is also expanding its market share and is the third-largest exporter. (See Table 3)

Missing the Wood for the Trees

In the mid-1980s, Sri Lanka first established its foothold in the GCC market. Since then, Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya, and even Ethiopia have moved well ahead of us and have become leading players. Why did we lag behind in our export diversification efforts in general and, more particularly, in the GCC market?

The reasons are very clear. After the initial attempts in the 1980s and early 1990s, Sri Lanka has not been proactively involved in identifying, developing, and promoting new products and markets, or protecting and further developing new markets already established. The focus has simply been on traditional exports: tea, coconut, cinnamon, and garments, while other products were almost ignored. In essence, we have been and continue to focus intensely on a narrow group of products and markets, and we have lost sight of the bigger picture.

(The writer can be reached at senadhiragomi@gmail.com)

Continue Reading

Trending