Features
The Beginning Of An “Oriental” Experience
by Goolbai Gunasekara
Excerpted from Chosen Ground: The Clara Motwani Saga
(For much of the information in this chapter I am indebted to Visakha students of the years between 1933 and 1945)
Curiously enough, Mother was not the first American principal of Visakha Vidyalaya. As Principal of the first Buddhist school for girls, situated in a small building in what was then Turret Road, Dr. Bernice Banning had taken charge of twenty children of leading Buddhist nationals. The parents of these twenty guinea pigs had the courage to ‘sacrifice’ their offspring in the cause of Buddhist education.
One of these ‘sacrifices’ was Vimala Wijewardene, who was to become Ceylon’s first woman Minister (of Health). There were also a few boys. One of them was Dudley Senanayake, a future Prime Minister of Ceylon; his cousin, R.G. Senanayake, a future cabinet minister; M.D.H. Jayawardena, a future Finance Minister; and Jinadasa Attygalle, a future medical specialist.
Several able Principals had preceded Mother – all of them foreign. None except Mrs. Pearce stayed long enough to make any impact. One British lady, I am told, resigned because her English friends disapproved of her association with local Sinhalese parents. Mother inherited Mrs. Pearce’s efficient administration.
Now what of Mother’s experiences as a new and amateur educationist in a country as different from her home as if she had stepped into the pages of an oriental novel? She loved the Sri Lankans from the start but a few shocks awaited her. One day an irate parent arrived at Mother’s office.
“You have the daughter of a low-caste family in this school,” she told Mother, “and the child sits next to mine in class.”
Coming from the State of Kentucky, which certainly must have practiced some form of racial discrimination, Mother was nonetheless deeply shocked when she was asked not only to move the offending child’s desk, but to preferably banish the ‘intruder’ from Visakha.Mother was a very tall person and could, when she so desired, be imperious. At this point she. so desired. She drew herself up to her full height.
“Mrs. V’ she said coldly, “when I enrol a student in Visakha I do not inquire to which caste she belongs. I am quite unconcerned with social status. My only concern is with the child’s mind, and her behaviour in school. However, if you feel very strongly about the matter, please write me a letter and I shall lay the matter before the Board.”
Mother shrewdly guessed that putting such a complaint in writing would never be done. She was right.
But the incident taught her a valuable lesson. To the end of her days Mother never inquired as to social standing or financial standing of any of the school’s parents. This probably irritated the affluent, but endeared her to all others.
Mother had yet another experience that brought home to her quite forcibly the fact that she had not left racism at home in America. Upon her arrival in Ceylon she was invited to join the Colombo Swimming Club. Unaware that at that time the Club was a bastion of white privilege, Mother went along to meet the Committee for the mandatory interview.
As the interview progressed, Mother began to feel distinctly uneasy: she realized that she was obviously in the wrong place. Her unease crystallized when one of the Committee turned to her and said:
“Of course, Mrs. Motwani, we will allow your children to swim here as a courtesy to you.”
Mother was appalled.
“Do you mean to say my husband cannot swim here?” she asked. “I’m afraid not,” said the President. “I’m sorry, but those are the rules.”
Mother declined membership, and was very critical of a British friend who did join the Club in spite of her Sinhalese husband being banned from the premises.
“Why did you do it?” she asked her friend. “Didn’t you feel it was an insult to your husband?”
“I did it for the sake of my children,” was the answer.
Mother could not see what possible benefits would accrue to her friend’s daughters from membership of the Swimming Club. It is ironical to reflect that, at the time of writing, I am a Trustee of the very Swimming Club that denied membership to my father.
Visakha had a lovely hostel with long airy dormitories, large windows and a sunny atmosphere. The ‘baby dormitory’ was her special love. Boys and girls aged from four years old to six were lodged here, and her special pets were Manilal Gunawardena and Neomal Dias, great grandson of the founder.
Mother would kiss all eighteen ‘babies’ goodnight each evening.
Manilal kept her in the room as long as he could.
“May I have some water, Mrs. Motwani?” he would ask, just as she was ready to turn out the light. The Matron would try to hush him up, but Manilal had a battery of requests. He needed to go to the bathroom. He was scared of going alone, and needed Mother to hold his hand. In short, Manilal just wanted her there until he fell asleep. His two older sisters had no patience with him, and in any case were in other dormitories.
When Manilal left Visakha to go to a boys’ school, saying goodbye to Mother was hard for them both.
“No one writes to me,” he told Mother sadly. All letters from home would go to his older sister. “Will you write me a letter?”
It was the first letter Mother had ever written to a cute little five-year-old, and Dr Gunawadena told her he treasured it a long time.
Romantically-minded teenage girls at Visakha were also greatly interested in my handsome North Indian father, who put in an appearance from time to time dressed in jodhpurs, the Indian sherwani and a Gandhi cap. Father created an aura of romance around the new Principal.
“My Hindu Moon Star
I love you
I love you
‘Yes I do,”
sang the seniors, to whom a North Indian lover was the ultimate of their unspoken dreams. And all the world, especially these Asian girls, brought up in that era for nothing else but marriage, loved a lover.
“Clara and Kewal became instantly loved,” wrote Manel Ratnatunga (nee Hewavitarana), the well known Sri Lankan authoress.
During Mother’s first years at Visakha she naturally introduced certain very American ideas. Sita Rajasooriya, well known today for her dedication to the Girl Guides and the Sarvodaya Movement, writes:
“Just before the senior Cambridge exam Mrs. Motwani occupied us with other activities. We felt this was a serious drawback to that last minute cram. She told us to put our books away, and on the night before we sat for the first paper the examination class was treated to a gala dinner given by the Staff.
“Mrs. Motwani told us this was an American custom. There is no doubt that our excellent results were due to Mrs. Motwani who helped us clear our minds and avoid last minute agitation. I was also one of the first to give Mrs. Motwani the Sinhala `ayubowan’ greeting on the first day she entered Visakha. She returned it so gracefully we were enchanted.”
The observance of Sil on Poya Days was made compulsory. Day girls joined boarders in a full day’s program arranged by Venerable Bhikkhu Narada. Mother joined the girls, sat on the floor with everyone and observed the customs. Rev. Narada conducted a meditation class one day and saw Mother seated with a perfectly straight spine (she always had a straight spine), hands correctly folded, eyes closed. He switched to Sinhala:
“See, girls,” he told them, “open your eyes and look at your Principal. THAT is the posture you must assume at religious functions.”
Mother opened her own eyes to find the whole school’s collective gaze on her. She blushed in confusion, and asked the venerable monk if anything was wrong.
“No, no, Mrs. Motwani,” he assured her. “I was just telling them to copy you.”
Mother used to say afterwards that it was a compliment she never forgot.
Leila Wijesekara, niece of Sir Baron Jayatilleke, writes that she grew very fast to be so tall, Mother always gave her the male lead in any drama. She was always the centre V in the double ‘V’ meant to represent ‘Visakha Vidyalaya’. Mother ranged all the children downwards from Leila’s towering figure.
Grace Jayasuriya (nee de Silva) goes back even further:
“I remember presenting a bouquet to Lady Stanley, wife of Sir Herbert Stanley, when she visited Visakha. I was a tiny girl. I was twelve when Mrs. Motwani came to the school. She was very beautiful. She allowed us to have midnight feasts, and shut her eyes to the fact we were breaking rules. We had ‘Boarder’s Days’ when normal rules were suspended. I had no mother and my father wanted me to marry young. Mrs. Motwani objected to an early marriage and persuaded him to allow me to join the Lady Irwin College Home Science Course at Visakha. Those were Golden Days, the memory of which will always linger in my heart.”
Thercy Samarajeewa, writing to Mother, said:
“A scene rises before my eyes. I see you with us students at dinner. I see us hostelers sitting at your feet in the garden while you told us stories of your home in Kentucky. I see the queue waiting to say goodnight to you at the end of the evening. I hear your voice telling us ‘Remember only what you GET, never what you have GIVEN’.”
It was an axiom Mother herself followed all her life. She always remembered a favour and never bore a grudge. Father was not over pleased with Mother’s selective memory.
“There is a special God for angels and fools,” he would tell us, his two daughters, “and your mother qualifies for His attention on both counts.”
Mother would smile serenely and go calmly along, thinking thoughts that pleased her and remaining true to her own code of ethics. At this distance of 60 years from childhood, I can see how strong parental example can be, and how difficult it is to emulate it!
The local government elections that took place last week saw a consolidation of the democratic system in the country. The government followed the rules of elections to a greater extent than its recent predecessors some of whom continue to be active on the political stage. Particularly noteworthy was the absence of the large-scale abuse of state resources, both media and financial, which had become normalised under successive governments in the past four decades. Reports by independent election monitoring organisations made mention of this improvement in the country’s democratic culture.
In a world where democracy is under siege even in long-established democracies, Sri Lanka’s improvement in electoral integrity is cause for optimism. It also offers a reminder that democracy is always a work in progress, ever vulnerable to erosion and needs to be constantly fought for. The strengthening of faith in democracy as a result of these elections is encouraging. The satisfaction expressed by the political parties that contested the elections is a sign that democracy in Sri Lanka is strong. Most of them saw some improvement in their positions from which they took reassurance about their respective futures.
The local government elections also confirmed that the NPP and its core comprising the JVP are no longer at the fringes of the polity. The NPP has established itself as a mainstream party with an all-island presence, and remarkably so to a greater extent than any other political party. This was seen at the general elections, where the NPP won a majority of seats in 21 of the country’s 22 electoral districts. This was a feat no other political party has ever done. This is also a success that is challenging to replicate. At the present local government elections, the NPP was successful in retaining its all-island presence although not to the same degree.
Consolidating Support
Much attention has been given to the relative decline in the ruling party’s vote share from the 61 percent it secured in December’s general election to 43 percent in the local elections. This slippage has been interpreted by some as a sign of waning popularity. However, such a reading overlooks the broader trajectory of political change. Just three years ago, the NPP and its allied parties polled less than five percent nationally. That they now command over 40 percent of the vote represents a profound transformation in voter preferences and political culture. What is even more significant is the stability of this support base, which now surpasses that of any rival. The votes obtained by the NPP at these elections were double those of its nearest rival.
The electoral outcomes in the north and east, which were largely won by parties representing the Tamil and Muslim communities, is a warning signal that ethnic conflict lurks beneath the surface. The success of the minority parties signals the different needs and aspirations of the ethnic and religious minority electorates, and the need for the government to engage more fully with them. Apart from the problems of poverty, lack of development, inadequate access to economic resources and antipathy to excessive corruption that people of the north and east share in common with those in other parts of the country, they also have special problems that other sections of the population do not have. These would include problems of military takeover of their lands, missing persons and persons incarcerated for long periods either without trial or convictions under the draconian Prevention of Terrorism Act (which permits confessions made to security forces to be made admissible for purposes of conviction) and the long time quest for self-rule in the areas of their predominance
The government’s failure to address these longstanding issues with urgency appears to have caused disaffection in electorate in the north and east. While structural change is necessarily complex and slow, delays can be misinterpreted as disinterest or disregard, especially by minorities already accustomed to marginalisation. The lack of visible progress on issues central to minority communities fosters a sense of exclusion and deepens political divides. Even so, it is worth noting that the NPP’s vote in the north and east was not insignificant. It came despite the NPP not tailoring its message to ethnic grievances. The NPP has presented a vision of national reform grounded in shared values of justice, accountability, development, and equality.
Translating electoral gains into meaningful governance will require more than slogans. The failure to swiftly address matters deemed to be important by the people of those areas appears to have cost the NPP votes amongst the ethnic and religious minorities, but even here it is necessary to keep matters in perspective. The NPP came first in terms of seats won in two of the seven electoral districts of the north and east. They came second in five others. The fact that the NPP continued to win significant support indicates that its approach of equity in development and equal rights for all has resonance. This was despite the Tamil and Muslim parties making appeals to the electorate on nationalist or ethnic grounds.
Slow Change
Whether in the north and east or outside it, the government is perceived to be slow in delivering on its promises. In the context of the promise of system change, it can be appreciated that such a change will be resisted tooth and nail by those with vested interests in the continuation of the old system. System change will invariably be resisted at multiple levels. The problem is that the slow pace of change may be seen by ethnic and religious minorities as being due to the disregard of their interests. However, the system change is coming slow not only in the north and east, but also in the entire country.
At the general election in December last year, the NPP won an unprecedented number of parliamentary seats in both the country as well as in the north and east. But it has still to make use of its 2/3 majority to make the changes that its super majority permits it to do. With control of 267 out of 339 local councils, but without outright majorities in most, it must now engage in coalition-building and consensus-seeking if it wishes to govern at the local level. This will be a challenge for a party whose identity has long been built on principled opposition to elite patronage, corruption and abuse of power rather than to governance. General Secretary of the JVP, Tilvin Silva, has signaled a reluctance to form alliances with discredited parties but has expressed openness to working with independent candidates who share the party’s values. This position can and should be extended, especially in the north and east, to include political formations that represent minority communities and have remained outside the tainted mainstream.
In a plural and multi-ethnic society like Sri Lanka, democratic legitimacy and effective governance requires coalition-building. By engaging with locally legitimate minority parties, especially in the north and east, the NPP can engage in principled governance without compromising its core values. This needs to be extended to the local government authorities in the rest of the country as well. As the 19th century English political philosopher John Stuart Mill observed, “The worth of a state in the long run is the worth of the individuals composing it,” and in plural societies, that worth can only be realised through inclusive decision-making.
by Jehan Perera
In the early 2000s, a colleague, returning to Sri Lanka after a decade in a research-heavy first world university, complained to me that ‘there is no research culture in Sri Lanka’. But what exactly does having a ‘research culture’ mean? Is a lot of funding enough? What else has stopped us from working towards a productive and meaningful research culture? A concerted effort has been made to improve the research culture of state universities, though there are debates about how healthy such practices are (there is not much consideration of the same in private ‘universities’ in Sri Lanka but that is a discussion for another time). So, in the 25 years since my colleague bemoaned our situation, what has been happening?
What is a ‘research culture’?
A good research culture would be one where we – academics and students – have the resources to engage productively in research. This would mean infrastructure, training, wholesome mentoring, and that abstract thing called headspace. In a previous Kuppi column, I explained at length some of the issues we face as researchers in Sri Lankan universities, including outdated administrative regulations, poor financial resources, and such aspects. My perspective is from the social sciences, and might be different to other disciplines. Still, I feel that there are at least a few major problems that we all face.
Number one: Money is important.
Take the example American universities. Harvard University, according to Harvard Magazine, “received $686.5 million in federally sponsored research grants” for the fiscal year of 2024 but suddenly find themselves in a bind because of such funds being held back. Research funds in these universities typically goes towards building and maintenance of research labs and institutions, costs of equipment, material and other resources and stipends for graduate and other research assistants, conferences, etc. Without such an infusion of money towards research, the USA would not have been able to attracts (and keeps) the talent and brains of other countries. Without a large amount of money dedicated for research, Sri Lankan state universities, too, will not have the research culture it yearns for. Given the country’s austere economic situation, in the last several years, research funds have come mainly from self-generated funds and treasury funds. Yet, even when research funds are available (they are usually inadequate), we still have some additional problems.
Number two: Unending spools of red tape
In Sri Lankan universities red tape is endless. An MoU with a foreign research institution takes at least a year. Financial regulations surrounding the award and spending of research grants is frustrating.
Here’s a personal anecdote. In 2018, I applied for a small research grant from my university. Several months later, I was told I had been awarded it. It comes to me in installments of not more than Rs 100,000. To receive this installment, I must submit a voucher and wait a few weeks until it passes through various offices and gains various approvals. For mysterious financial reasons, asking for reimbursements is discouraged. Obviously then, if I were working on a time-sensitive study or if I needed a larger amount of money for equipment or research material, I would not be able to use this grant. MY research assistants, transcribers, etc., must be willing to wait for their payments until I receive this advance. In 2022, when I received a second advance, the red tape was even tighter. I was asked to spend the funds and settle accounts – within three weeks. ‘Should I ask my research assistants to do the work and wait a few weeks or months for payment? Or should I ask them not to do work until I get the advance and then finish it within three weeks so I can settle this advance?’ I asked in frustration.
Colleagues, who regularly use university grants, frustratedly go along with it; others may opt to work with organisations outside the university. At a university meeting, a few years ago, set up specifically to discuss how young researchers could be encouraged to do research, a group of senior researchers ended the meeting with a list of administrative and financial problems that need to be resolved if we want to foster ‘a research culture’. These are still unresolved. Here is where academic unions can intervene, though they seem to be more focused on salaries, permits and school quotas. If research is part of an academic’s role and responsibility, a research-friendly academic environment is not a privilege, but a labour issue and also impinges on academic freedom to generate new knowledge.
Number three: Instrumentalist research – a global epidemic
The quality of research is a growing concern, in Sri Lanka and globally. The competitiveness of the global research environment has produced seriously problematic phenomena, such as siphoning funding to ‘trendy’ topics, the predatory publications, predatory conferences, journal paper mills, publications with fake data, etc. Plagiarism, ghost writing and the unethical use of AI products are additional contemporary problems. In Sri Lanka, too, we can observe researchers publishing very fast – doing short studies, trying to publish quickly by sending articles to predatory journals, sending the same article to multiple journals at the same time, etc. Universities want more conferences rather than better conferences. Many universities in Sri Lanka have mandated that their doctoral candidates must publish journal articles before their thesis submission. As a consequence, novice researchers frequently fall prey to predatory journals. Universities have also encouraged faculties or departments to establish journals, which frequently have sub-par peer review.
Alongside this are short-sighted institutional changes. University Business Liankage cells, for instance, were established as part of the last World Bank loan cycle to universities. They are expected to help ‘commercialise’ research and focuses on research that can produce patents, and things that can be sold. Such narrow vision means that the broad swathe of research that is undertaken in universities are unseen and ignored, especially in the humanities and social sciences. A much larger vision could have undertaken the promotion of research rather than commercialisation of it, which can then extend to other types of research.
This brings us to the issue of what types of research is seen as ‘relevant’ or ‘useful’. This is a question that has significant repercussions. In one sense, research is an elitist endeavour. We assume that the public should trust us that public funds assigned for research will be spent on worth-while projects. Yet, not all research has an outcome that shows its worth or timeliness in the short term. Some research may not be understood other than by specialists. Therefore, funds, or time spent on some research projects, are not valued, and might seem a waste, or a privilege, until and unless a need for that knowledge suddenly arises.
A short example suffices. Since the 1970s, research on the structures of Sinhala and Sri Lankan Tamil languages (sound patterns, sentence structures of the spoken versions, etc.) have been nearly at a standstill. The interest in these topics are less, and expertise in these areas were not prioritised in the last 30 years. After all, it is not an area that can produce lucrative patents or obvious contributions to the nation’s development. But with digital technology and AI upon us, the need for systematic knowledge of these languages is sorely evident – digital technologies must be able to work in local languages to become useful to whole populations. Without a knowledge of the structures and sounds of local languages – especially the spoken varieties – people who cannot use English cannot use those devices and platforms. While providing impetus to research such structures, this need also validates utilitarian research.
This then is the problem with espousing instrumental ideologies of research. World Bank policies encourage a tying up between research and the country’s development goals. However, in a country like ours, where state policies are tied to election manifestos, the result is a set of research outputs that are tied to election cycles. If in 2019, the priority was national security, in 2025, it can be ‘Clean Sri Lanka’. Prioritising research linked to short-sighted visions of national development gains us little in the longer-term. At the same time, applying for competitive research grants internationally, which may have research agendas that are not nationally relevant, is problematic. These are issues of research ethics as well.
Concluding thoughts
In moving towards a ‘good research culture’, Sri Lankan state universities have fallen into the trap of adopting some of the problematic trends that have swept through the first world. Yet, since we are behind the times anyway, it is possible for us to see the damaging consequences of those issues, and to adopt the more fruitful processes. A slower, considerate approach to research priorities would be useful for Sri Lanka at this point. It is also a time for collective action to build a better research environment, looking at new relationships and collaborations, and mentoring in caring ways.
(Dr. Kaushalya Perera teaches at the Department of English, University of Colombo)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
By Kaushalya Perera
Melantha Perera, who has been associated with many top bands in the past, due to his versatility as a musician, is now enjoying his solo career, as well … as a singer.
He was invited to perform at the first ever ‘Noon2Moon’ event, held in Dubai, at The Huddle, CityMax Hotel, on Saturday, 3rd May.
It was 15 hours of non-stop music, featuring several artistes, with Melantha (the only Sri Lankan on the show), doing two sets.
According to reports coming my way, ‘Noon2Moon’ turned out to be the party of the year, with guests staying back till well past 3.00 am, although it was a 12.00 noon to 3.00 am event.
Having Arabic food
Melantha says he enjoyed every minute he spent on stage as the crowd, made up mostly of Indians, loved the setup.
“I included a few Sinhala songs as there were some Sri Lankans, as well, in the scene.”
Allwyn H. Stephen, who is based in the UAE, was overjoyed with the success of ‘Noon2Moon’.
Says Allwyn: “The 1st ever Noon2Moon event in Dubai … yes, we delivered as promised. Thank you to the artistes for the fab entertainment, the staff of The Huddle UAE , the sound engineers, our sponsors, my supporters for sharing and supporting and, most importantly, all those who attended and stayed back till way past 3.00 am.”
Melantha:
Dubai and
then Oman
Allwyn, by the way, came into the showbiz scene, in a big way, when he featured artistes, live on social media, in a programme called TNGlive, during the Covid-19 pandemic.
After his performance in Dubai, Melantha went over to Oman and was involved in a workshop – ‘Workshop with Melantha Perera’, organised by Clifford De Silva, CEO of Music Connection.
The Workshop included guitar, keyboard and singing/vocal training, with hands-on guidance from the legendary Melantha Perera, as stated by the sponsors, Music Connection.
Back in Colombo, Melantha will team up with his band Black Jackets for their regular dates at the Hilton, on Fridays and Sundays, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays at Warehouse, Vauxhall Street.
Melantha also mentioned that Bright Light, Sri Lanka’s first musical band formed entirely by visually impaired youngsters, will give their maiden public performance on 7th June at the MJF Centre Auditorium in Katubadda, Moratuwa.
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