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St. Anthony Stole Fire from Hell: A Festival at a Sardinian Village

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Sardinian village

by Jayantha Perera

Shyamala (my wife) and I arrived at Cagliari Airport in Sardinia with several friends from Rome to participate in a writers’ workshop in Galteli, a remote Sardinian village. It was mid-January, and It was a sunny and warm afternoon. The sky was blue, and sun rays penetrated the airport’s thick, tall glass panes, warming us. The distant craggy mountains displayed their naked limestone spikes, occasionally releasing a glint. The dusty horizon looked distant, blurring the contours between the dry, flat land and disappearing grey mountains. Large concrete structures dominated the immediate landscape of the airport. They were engulfed in a mess of tentacles of the ring road. Still, a disciplined traffic movement emerged from the chaos. The landscape of Sardinia, with its rugged mountains, flat lands, and distant horizons, was a sight to behold.

Someone announced we should go to the green bus about 200 meters from the Arrivals building. An Italian who spoke English volunteered to fetch the driver. We applauded when the bus driver returned. He was a podgy man with very little hair on his head. His clothes were too tight and crumpled. He looked like a man who already had a few pints of beer. He packed our bags into the bus belly in five minutes and asked us to get in.

The bus left the airport at 3.45 pm. It was a glorious afternoon with the golden sun just setting after warming all of us. The dry, flat, distant landscape suddenly took a new look, bathed in warm golden sun rays. The journey was smooth, and there were hardly any other vehicles on the winding road. The immediate flat land with distant hills and mountain ranges on the horizon started to display their land use patterns. By the road was a grazing land with hundreds of sheep and cows, and at another place was a large village with well-maintained gardens and orchards. There was open land dotted with ancient Roman ruins, dry riverbeds, and medieval churches with beautiful domes in a few places. The rapidly setting winter sun added charm to the landscape through the lengthening shadows of houses, trees, and churches, especially their spires. The journey looked never-ending with the rapid sunset.

The bus arrived at Galtelli village after sunset. A young woman in a skirt and tee shirt got onto the bus, read 10 names, and waited until 10 people showed their raised hands. She already looked harassed. She advised the ten men to get down and collect their luggage from the bus belly. It was already dark, so it was challenging to identify the luggage. The second bus stop was on the main road. As if they had learned from the first group, another 10 exited the bus soon after the roll call, collected their baggage, and vanished into the darkness with an assistant. The third and final group arrived at an empty bus stop at Sa. Cantina. When we got down from the bus, darkness and cold engulfed us. Andrea, the manager of Antico Borgo Hotel, was at the bus stop. Some confusion arose from the name list, as some writers who had planned to stay together during the workshop were separated by that time. After a 10-minute discussion, local organisers’ plans prevailed. The dejected ones picked up their baggage and followed Andrea.

Andrea was in a hurry. After walking uphill for about five minutes, several writers complained they could no longer carry their bags. Andrea ignored them and continued uphill. The climb was steep on cobbled streets. It was tough to pull suitcases and walk uphill. Shyamala and I found it challenging to keep pace with Andrea, especially after one of my bags lost two wheels on the rough, cobbled streets. I told Andrea several guests needed help to carry their bags to the hotel. He said, “First things first”, and moved on.

The final climb was from a church piazza (public square) to the Antico Borgo Hotel at #7 of Via Sassari. There was a great gasp of relief when we saw the large gate of the Antico Borgo Hotel. The hotel, a charming establishment with a rich history, was a welcome sight after the long journey. Andrea opened the visitors’ gate, led us into the courtyard, and disappeared. Some collapsed into the wicker chairs in the hotel’s foyer and demanded a stiff drink to recover. We were freezing in the foyer, waiting for Andrea. He returned after 30 minutes, ready to assist us with our check-in.

Shyamala and I got a room on the ground floor. The room was a part of the original building, dating back to the 16th century. The roof had wild tree trunks as rafters, and the uneven ceiling was covered with lime and clay. The room was dark, damp, and smelly. It had no windows. There were six steel-framed beds, although we had requested a room with one double bed. One bed, however, had fresh bed sheets, pillows, folded blankets, two large towels, and several hand towels.

D H Lawrence’s description of winter in Sardinia in his ‘Sea and Sardinia’ aptly described our plight at the guest house. “The room – in fact, the whole Sardinia – was stone cold, stone, stone cold. Outside, the earth is freezing. Inside, there was no thought of any sort of warmth: dungeon stone floors, dungeon stone walls, and a dead corpse-like atmosphere, too heavy and icy to move.”

There was a wooden closet at the back of the room. The bookshelf by the toilet was covered with dust, and the few books and pamphlets on its bottom were wet and soggy. The coffee machine was on a rickety table by our bed. There was a small fridge, and a 12″ TV was on it.

The bathroom was wet and freezing cold despite running hot water. The shower stall needed to be wider for a person to stand.

Within minutes, Shyamala found breathing difficult, as the room was stale, wet, and musty. She caught Andrea in the courtyard and asked for an extra heater to warm the room and a dehumidifier to clear the air. We were glad to spend a few minutes under the two blankets to recover before dinner at a restaurant about 600 meters from Borgo. Hot soup and a steak revived our mood. When we returned, the room had two dehumidifiers and two extra heaters, and we felt cosy and warm.

We got up early the following day; the room was warm, and the air was much cleaner than the previous evening. The coffee machine worked perfectly. We dressed, crossed the courtyard, and climbed a few steps to the open restaurant with a large heater that kept the area warm. The breakfast spread was impressive – many types of cured fish and meat with olives and cheeses. The heater broke down within minutes, and we had breakfast as we shivered in the cold. Andrea arranged a few electric heaters to keep at least our feet warm and provided an unlimited number of hot cappuccinos to keep us warm.

After breakfast, we walked around the cobblestone streets, absorbing the breathtaking view. The sun shone, and roads were dry after the previous night’s rain. Galtelli village was on a low hill ledge of the mighty Tuttuvista Mountain that rose steeply behind it. The village spread downwards along winding, silent, and narrow cobblestone streets to the national S 129 highway. The limestone mountain, its environs, well-kept whitewashed houses, and beautiful medieval churches with their belfries wiped out our complaints. We learned that Grazia Deledda, the Nobel Prize winner for literature in the 1930s and who wrote ‘Reeds in the Wind,’ had lived in Galtelli for several short spells in the 1920s and 1930s.

Lunch was served around 1 pm in the hotel’s courtyard. It consisted of salads, cold cuts, canned fish, wild rice, bread, olives, and pickles. The sun and warmth in the courtyard encouraged discussions and debates among guests. Small groups spread over the courtyard, steps, and balconies as they enjoyed the food, the sun, wine, and coffee. There were no other tasks other than a siesta in the afternoon.

Andrea studied hotel management in the US and developed a peculiar English accent. He was also the manager of two other small hotels. He arranged transport and guided tours for guests. A popular trip was to climb Tuttavista to see Statua Bronzea del Christo (a bronze statue of Christ) and Sa Pedra Istampada (St Peter’s viewing point). He sometimes acted as a middleman when guests had merchandise to sell.

Once, when Andrea was alone in his office, I asked him for the best time to visit Sardinia. That question baffled him; he said, “Sardinia is special in any season.” He did not like my suggestion that Sardinian culture is a sub-Italian culture. He said, “Sardinia is a part of Italy, but not Italy.” Then he told me, “When God created paradise, he actually created Sardinia.”

In mid-January, the village celebrates the Fiesta di Sant’Antonio Abate (the Feast of Saint Anthony, the Abbot). St. Anthony is also known as Saint Anthony the Great, Saint Anthony of Padua, the Egyptian Saint, and the patron saint of butchers, domestic animals, basket makers, and gravediggers. He also protects people against skin diseases, especially shingles, known as Fuoco di Sant’Antonio (Fire of St. Anthony).

St. Anthony, the hermit, renounced worldly possessions, followed the word of Jesus, performed miracles, and helped ordinary folks. He was the first hermit to live a genuinely monastic lifestyle. The devil repeatedly tempted him to break his vows, but he persevered through sincere prayers and meditation. St. Anthony is often portrayed in images with the devil at his feet. A legend claims he went to hell to steal the devil’s fire. While he distracted the devil, his pet piglet ran in and brought a piece of burning coal from the fireplace.

The Galtelli people eagerly await the feast of Sant’Antonio stealing fire from hell. The centre of the celebration is a majestic bonfire to warm up the cold evening. This ancient ritual brings the entire village community together.

St Anthony’s Cathedral in Galtelli celebrated the festival with gusto. Young men and women decorated the church, its approach path, and the main road. A few days before the festival, villagers combed nearby mountains and valleys to gather wet grass and tree branches. Some brought small loads of wood and ferns from the nearby riverbed; others drove their pickups to transport lumber from the slopes of the Tuttavista mountain.

Those who brought grass, timber, and tree branches piled them into a pyramid in the middle of the village playground and left the heap to settle and dry. A few days before the festival, women baked cocconeddos and pistiddu, thick biscuits with dough filled with cooked wine. The festival committee planned a convivial dinner for church leaders and music groups. Mr Antonio, the Galtelli’s brewer and wine seller, promised to deliver countless gallons of wine to serve devotees.

The church service began at 3.30 p.m. A local group sang in ancient Sard (the local dialect), adding an aura to the service. They were all men. One was a very old man and could hardly stand. A young man replaced him occasionally, and the old man was happy to be a part of the choir. All young girls and boys in the village attended the service, and their murmurings were loud enough to mask what the priest said. People were happy because the day was sunny and bright.

A sharing moment between the sacred and the profane arose after the church service. We all walked in silence to the playground, where the pyramid awaited. On the way, women distributed coconeddos and pistiddu to devotees. The priest who celebrated the service arrived first at the playground. He blessed the pyramid and waited until the entire community and visitors gathered around it. Two young men walked around the monument three times with torches, keeping their left shoulder towards the pyramid while the priest chanted prayers. Then, the priest sprinkled holy water on the pyramid. The two men set fire to the bonfire’s core, and in a few seconds, the mighty blaze was sending hot flames in all directions. Visitors inhaled the pleasant smell of burning myrtle branches and eucalyptus leaves. The lengthening shadow of Mount Tuttavista slowly engulfed all of us. The sunset threw a glorious hue over the burning bonfire.

Young men distributed new wine in plastic cups. Refills came very fast, and refusing new wine was considered a sin. The wine god, Bacchus, stood beside the bonfire and brought boozy blessings to all. Cauldrons filled with boiling pig lard with broad beans were brought in. People fell in line to get food as a few middle-aged women controlled the crowd. Some devotees pensively watched and counted the images drawn by the bonfire in the heavy smoke. They tried to tally them with premonitions, prophecies and wishes for the New Year.

Shyamala and I had enough fresh wine for the day and wanted to return to our guesthouse. It was difficult to leave the ground as everyone wanted to talk to us. Shyamala talked to some of them in Italian, and they were thrilled to discuss our thoughts on the festival. Shyamala, meanwhile, told me the priest had flirty eye contact with her; I thought he was tipsy. The priest spoke a little English and smoked cigars non-stop. His potbelly hinted that he drank a lot of wine. The priest was a short and fat fellow with no hair on his head and wore a tight pair of blue jeans and a short-sleeved checked shirt. He sported his cell phone in his back jeans pocket and regularly checked it for messages.

Two days later, someone suggested that Antonio bring 40 bottles of new wine to the guesthouse to sell to the guests. Antonio arrived at the guesthouse later that night with his German girlfriend in his double cab van. Nobody showed any interest in Antonio’s wine. Antonio did not know what had gone wrong with his wine the previous day – the wine tasted like vinegar. Still, one consolation was that St. Vincent Saragossa was the patron saint of wine brewers and vinegar producers. If St. Vincent felt belittled by St. Anthony after the bonfire, Antonio could brew another batch of fresh wines in the name of St. Vincent. After all, in Galtelli, there is ample time and space for new traditions to emerge and new friendships to forge.

We left Galtelli after staying eight days at Andrea’s guesthouse. After helping him load bags, Shyamala and I joined him in going to Sa. Cantina to catch the airport bus. He drove like a maniac at breakneck speed. He negotiated elbow corners at high speed on narrow and slippery cobbled streets. He smiled and reassured us that he knew Galtelli roads well and that his guardian angel would protect him. I wanted to ask him who would protect us. When we reached Sa. Cantina, he quickly unloaded suitcases, ignored the heavy rain, and drove back to bring more guests after waving at us and sending a flying kiss.



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Addressing human rights needs multi-pronged approach

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Volker Türk

by Jehan Perera

The ongoing 63rd session of the United Nations Human Rights Council, which runs from September 7 to October 7, 2026, in Geneva is important to Sri Lanka. Its outcome will send a signal to other international actors, including the European Union, as to whether Sri Lanka’s reform policy is on track. The written update on Sri Lanka, prepared by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights under High Commissioner Volker Türk and presented by Deputy High Commissioner Nada Al-Nashif, has taken a more holistic approach to the government’s performance over the past year. It acknowledged the progress Sri Lanka has made under the NPP government in relation to accountability for financial fraud and other economic crimes. At the same time, the High Commissioner’s update made clear that progress in relation to economic crime cannot be equated with progress in relation to accountability for grave human rights violations committed during the armed conflict and in other periods of political violence.

The government may have felt sufficiently confident that its response to the High Commissioner’s update could be handled by its representative in Geneva and did not require the attendance of Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath. Sri Lanka’s representative Sumith Dassanayake called for a fundamental review of country-specific mandates within the UN Human Rights Council. Sri Lanka has been facing repeated scrutiny in the form of successive UNHRC resolutions from 2012 onwards. Ambassador Dassanayake argued that such mandates should not continue indefinitely and must be regularly assessed against measurable objectives and tangible outcomes. This may reflect confidence that its record of reform is beginning to receive recognition internationally. The reports and statements at the Human Rights Council acknowledged progress in the government’s efforts to address corruption and economic crime.

The government’s anti-corruption drive has included investigations into allegations involving individuals who held the highest political offices in the country. The arrest of former President Ranil Wickremesinghe in connection with alleged misuse of public funds, and the investigation into the controversial SriLankan Airlines Airbus transaction involving former President Mahinda Rajapaksa’s son, are examples of the reach of these investigations. The arrest of SLPP National Organiser and Member of Parliament Namal Rajapaksa in connection with allegations relating to the Airbus purchase scandal has also demonstrated that the government is willing to pursue cases involving politically powerful figures.

Wide Range

The ongoing investigations appear to encompass a wide range of parliamentarians and government members, both past and present. They suggest that accountability for corruption is not being confined to lower-level officials or to individuals who lack political influence. This is precisely the kind of accountability that the public has long demanded and that previous governments have too often failed to deliver. The government is also reaching into the upper levels of the military hierarchies of the past. The case in which 11 young men, most of them Tamil, disappeared after being abducted in Colombo between 2008 and 2009 involved allegations that some families were asked to pay ransoms. The investigation into this case has reached senior military figures. The willingness to pursue such cases is important because it challenges the assumption that those who exercised power during the war are beyond the reach of the law. Such cases would provide a practical test of whether the government’s commitment to accountability for economic crimes is part of a broader commitment to the rule of law.

Success in prosecuting corruption cannot substitute for justice for those who were unlawfully killed, disappeared, tortured or otherwise victimised. The UN report noted that there had been no recognition or accountability for crimes under international law, gross human rights violations and serious violations of international humanitarian law committed by all parties during the war. The government has yet to establish a credible and effective process to address the many cases of enforced disappearance, extrajudicial killing, torture and other serious violations. The government needs to take the international commitments it has inherited on human rights issues seriously. It needs to adopt a multi-pronged approach and go beyond focusing primarily on financial and corruption-related accountability.

Need Action

As a member of the international community, Sri Lanka has a responsibility to abide by the commitments it has made. It cannot selectively uphold international obligations postponing those that are politically difficult. Also, as a small country, Sri Lanka has a self-interest in ensuring the survival of international law, which is all that it has to protect it from the depredations of the bigger international actors. The erosion of international law by powerful states makes it all the more important that smaller states uphold the principles on which the international system is based. Sri Lanka cannot credibly appeal to international law when it is threatened from outside while disregarding its own obligations within. Sri Lanka also needs to win the confidence of its own population that it is committed to justice and equality for all. Public opinion polls and community-level research have disclosed that ethnic and religious minorities are appreciative of the sense of greater security they enjoy under the present government from ethnic or religious extremists.

But a sense of security is not the same as the fulfilment of rights. As far as the Tamil people are concerned, the government has yet to deliver on several of its specific promises. These include the long-standing problems of missing persons, the release of political prisoners who have been members of Tamil militant organisations, and the return of land taken over for military purposes during the war. The issue of Buddhist statues and archaeological sites found on their properties which are then taken from their control continue to trouble them especially as they see no signs of resolution of those disputes. The issue of pastureland in the east of the country in Mylathamadu is particularly concerning to them as they see orders by successive presidents, both President Ranil Wickremesinghe and President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, being disregarded on the ground. The Mylathamadu pastureland dispute is where traditional Tamil dairy farmers have engaged in multi-year protests against the ongoing encroachment of their ancestral grazing lands by Sinhalese crop cultivators relocated under government development schemes.

The government’s failure to hold Provincial Council elections is particularly troubling. The provincial council system is the only one that can provide the Tamil people and other ethnic minorities the opportunity to wield political power and exercise a measure of self-determination in the areas in which they are the numerical majority. The continued postponement of Provincial Council elections therefore has consequences that go beyond an ordinary electoral delay. It deprives communities of an important constitutional avenue for democratic participation and power-sharing. The ethnic and religious minorities appreciate what the government is doing in the larger national interest, but they must not be made to feel that their special concerns are being ignored. The government cannot resolve Sri Lanka’s entire legacy of rights violations overnight. But it does need to demonstrate that it is willing to move forward on multiple fronts, not only on a few.

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The emptying university: why are academics leaving?

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by Hasini Lecamwasam

Brain drain in Sri Lanka is at an all-time high. The latest Human Flight and Brain Drain Index for 2024 shows that we are 16th of 175 countries on this count, and first in South Asia. That this is a crisis goes without saying. Brain drain affects all sectors, and is a huge strain on the resources of a developing country. Particularly in Sri Lanka, where considerable public investment is made in the moulding of professionals through the system of free education, this amounts to transferring the resources of poorer countries to richer ones with top migration destinations. It is, therefore, important to consider the push and pull factors behind skilled outmigration, specifically from the public university system of Sri Lanka, a key focus of the Kuppi column.

From frustration to exit

Several bitter realities in our crumbling public university system act as push factors in the migration decisions of academics. Many essays on this column have, over several years, attempted to highlight numerous aspects of this erosion. Perhaps, primary among them is the lack of adequate funding, which has debilitating ramifications for the system: very little investment is made in the up-keep of infrastructure (and even less in its expansion), resulting in serious constraints in accommodating growing batches of students and the wellbeing of the staff (particularly in regional universities); research funding is negligible, severely curtailing academics’ ability to effectively discharge their primary duty of teaching which should ideally be informed by their research (and the research of others, access to which is also, unfortunately, mediated by funding); a funding crunch also means a slash in (or greater constraints on) recruitments, increasing the workloads of academics, currently in service, and eating into the quality of their teaching and research.

What recruitments are done frustrate those with any faith in merit. As many of our interventions in this column have shown, recruitment processes are characterised by archaic selection criteria that place very little weight on a candidate’s postgraduate growth and the advantages of interdisciplinary training. Added to this is the general preference for ‘culturally compliant’ candidates who would not rock the boat too much. The combined effect is that those with the capacity and spirit to try out innovations in education are discouraged from joining or staying on in the public university system. Some, or many, of them may instead seek appointments abroad.

A thread that binds all of these problems together is pervasive hierarchy which, again, many interventions on this column have sought to highlight. It is the interest in preserving hierarchy that leads to the preference for alumni in recruitment processes. Hierarchy within universities can be particularly frustrating for younger faculty and women, who typically have to bear the brunt of the workload of their senior, often male, colleagues. In a context of funding, and, therefore, recruitment, restrictions, this translates into a disproportionate burden being placed on junior (usually female) faculty, seriously hindering their prospects of growing into successful academics due to the time constraints within which they have to operate. Junior academics, therefore, are more likely to look to educational institutions abroad for what they hope would be a different work culture that respects them more.

Ideological ruses

On top of these structural frustrations are also the workings of neoliberal ideology. For one, the nature of relations between the global metropole and peripheral countries like Sri Lanka largely dictates what is desirable and what is not. The apparent lifestyles of Western countries – from food to clothing, housing, appliances, and so on – have continued to lure people from the periphery with the promise of a ‘better’ life, alongside better career advancement opportunities. This, of course, masks much of the struggle that goes on behind the scenes to survive in Western societies. For instance, in most cases highly attractive public infrastructure such as roads, public transport, clean air, quality control of food, and so on belie the astronomical privatised costs of healthcare and education. Health insurance is usually mandatory and steep in most high-income settings, while even subsidised education (for which eligibility criteria are strict) creates a serious dent in household earnings. Of course, the happy images of glossy trams and gleeful international travellers don’t convey this.

A second ideological ruse is the myth of greater opportunities and recognition abroad. While there is no denying that local skilled sectors – be it higher education, health, civil service, or private white-collar positions – are replete with issues that inhibit merit-based professional advancement, the notion that things are fundamentally different in Western countries stems from an uninformed optimism. As is now increasingly known and discussed, Western labour markets are notoriously racialised, and equivalent skills are rarely treated as such. Instead, it is usually demanded that skilled migrants clear certain formal examinations in their host countries. In fields like medicine, this is followed by an interview that may also be racially prejudiced. Once these initial steps are cleared, remuneration reverts to square one irrespective of experience accumulated abroad, not to mention the many subtle aggressions, rejections, and trials one has to go through in the negotiation of everyday life. In the many cases where professional qualifications are used as leverage for a move abroad, sights are set on a better future for one’s children, which again is informed by the misplaced faith in greater opportunities and a lack of awareness of the factors outlined above. Needless to say, in the global swing to the Right, things have become even more challenging. In such a context, considering the few rare cases where skilled migrants live extremely comfortable lives as the norm becomes a dangerous misconception.

The two ideological pull factors mentioned above are complemented by a push factor, which has to do with a highly classed understanding of what a white-collar professional is due in their society. Many of these aspirations are clearly articulated in academic trade union action demanding separate quotas for school entry, increased fuel allowances, winning back the presently stalled vehicle permit scheme, salary hikes, and so on. While working people have every right to agitate for better material conditions, insofar as it remains unconnected to a broader movement for improving the conditions of the lot of the working class, it remains self-serving and very much within the class logic of capitalist society. Since these demands are articulated as a means of maintaining distinction, it is clear that they are not envisaged as part of a class movement. The frustration of not having these needs for distinction satisfied may push some to seek greener pastures abroad, at least financially, (perhaps as a means of social mobility based on it), only to be disappointed on most occasions.

What is to be done?

Addressing the systemic push factors listed above requires, first and foremost, greater allocations for free public higher education. This would immediately translate into more recruitments and less work per academic, and better research and teaching in the long haul. An increase in funding would also ideally lead to greater infrastructural investments, especially including improving the living conditions of those who work in regional universities amid untold hardships. Next, fairer, more creative, and, therefore, more effective recruitment policies are badly needed to attract talented individuals to university positions. Rather than carving out a ‘special category’ for academics to achieve this purpose, which is informed by a classed logic, this needs to be done through fundamental reforms in recruitment processes. Third, a persistent attack on the entrenched hierarchy within universities through internal reform is much called for. Reforming recruitment practices will go a long way towards addressing this. Measures should also be taken to introduce more stringent policies against SGBV (not to mention ragging, even though it is not directly connected to brain drain). Such measures would create a safer, fairer, and more attractive workplace, which would give more reasons for people to stay.

On top of greater allocations, we also need a transformation of our aspirations themselves if this situation is to change. That necessitates a kind of education capable of questioning the ‘paradise’ conception of Western societies, and lays bare their colonial material and ideological dimensions, in both their historical and contemporary manifestations. These colonial understandings of the ‘good life’, moreover, have devastating ecological implications for the planet, not to mention social justice. An education with the ability to transform this mindset would hopefully prove to be more than a mere path to social mobility, rather being a tool of social emancipation that renders mobility moot.

(Hasini Lecamwasam is with the Department of Political Science, University of Peradeniya)

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

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Friends favourite Suzi Croner returns for Oktoberfest 2026

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Charming audiences in Switzerland as Suzi Flückiger, Sri Lanka’s own Suzi Croner is coming home… for a very special occasion.

The bubbly former frontline vocalist of 90s band Friends will take the stage at a popular venue in Colombo for Oktoberfest 2026.

Known in Europe for her country and classic hits, Suzi has remained a much-loved name back home. This will be a rare chance for local fans to see her live and celebrate the voice behind so many Friends memories.

Oktoberfest 2026 in Colombo promises an evening of live music, traditional Bavarian food and beer, colourful dirndls and lederhosen, folk dancing, and plenty of community cheer.

Suzi Croner (Flückiger)

Against this lively backdrop, Suzi will take the stage for a special solo set, featuring her own pre-recorded music. She performed at the event last year too, as a solo artiste, but a German band providing the music.

This year, however she says, it’s a different scene.

“The novel attraction will be the dancers from Germany — all girls, clad in German outfits,” Suzi said. She added that the event will also highlight the activities generally connected with Oktoberfest, which should generate a lot of fun and excitement for those who join her in Colombo next month.

Suzi has become a much-in-demand artiste in Europe, and has even performed Down Under, in Melbourne.

In Switzerland, where she has been based for the past 42 years, she continues to charm audiences with country and classic hits, performing at private events and community nights across Europe.

“My weekends are generally loaded with my work as a singer,” she said. “And I also play tennis three times a week, because I need to keep fit to entertain my audience in an active way.”

Her repertoire is made up mainly of Swiss, German and English songs.

And true to form, Suzi loves springing surprises.

“So watch out when you join me at Oktoberfest 2026, in Colombo!” she said.

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