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Travelling for WHO – first to Botswana in Africa

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Excerpted from Memories that linger”: My journey in the world of Disability
by Padmani Mendis

First Impressions and First Memories

But where are the trees? This was my first thought as the eight-seater circled the small airport at Gaborone, preparing to descend. Trees, green and water was what I was used to seeing in Asia and Europe. When I was preparing for my visit to Botswana, I had read that the Kalahari Desert was savanna on which grew grasses and small trees. Here I saw also that the ground was dry, yellow, sandy.
The airplane was small because the Gaborone airport at that time could not accommodate aircrafts that were any larger and certainly not jet aircraft. The route from Colombo required for me a transfer at Johannesburg to this eight-seater. During my first year of travel to Botswana I was fortunate that BOAC (later BA) – had a flight route that connected Hong Kong-Colombo-Johannesburg. This direct route was unprofitable and on my next visit I had to transit at either Bombay or Nairobi to get to Jo’burg. Five years later, Botswana had its own airport which they named the Sir Seretse Khama International Airport. I have not used this airport.

Sir Seretse Khama

The word Seretse Khama holds memories for me dating back to my youth. While at school and yet quite young, I saw in our morning newspaper, the “Ceylon Daily News,” what seemed to me to be an unusual photograph. It showed a couple standing arm-in-arm. The man was tall and dark with black frizzy hair. The woman was smaller with a light skin. I still see that photograph in my mind’s eye. The caption said that Seretse and Ruth Khama, formerly Ruth Williams, had married in London. The couple will be returning to Bechuanaland, a British Protectorate. Seretse Khama was the son of the former chief of Bechuanaland and was returning to be the chief himself.

This fascinated me, I know not why. I had to ask a cousin where Bechuanaland was, and she did not know either. Together we looked up the atlas I used at school to find out. Thereafter, I followed with interest what happened in that faraway country. I knew of the problems that were created by the British when Seretse returned to his country; and of the attempt by the British to have him and his English wife banished; how his people wanted him back and welcomed his wife with open arms; when it became the independent country Botswana and he became its prime minister; that the country was rich in diamonds, but was still desperately poor. Its diamonds were being mined by their neighbour, reaping the benefits of the growing diamond trade together with the benefits of apartheid for its white and wealthy minority, South Africa.

When Einar suggested that I start the CBR field trial in Botswana, I was just amazed. My reaction called for me to give an explanation to him and Gunnel. And here I was. Botswana was now a Republic and Sir Seretse Khama, GCB, KBE was its first elected President.When I related my story to Adelaide Kgosidinsti, my counterpart, she took me to visit Lady Ruth Khama. Sir Seretse’s health was failing rapidly. Ruth Khama lived in a villa-type residence, not large in appearance, with quite a few plants in the garden. I told her my story. She invited me to have tea with her.

Sir Desmond Tutu

Upon arrival in Gaborone I was met by someone from WHO and taken to check-in at the Holiday Inn Hotel. This was the only international hotel in town. There was another large hotel close to the station where most local people stayed. I too stayed there later on when Gunnel came to Botswana.While I was on the eight-seater from Jo’burg, I noticed a passenger walking down the aisle, greeting his fellow passengers. Going down to breakfast the next morning was difficult. I was alone – had never stayed in a posh hotel like this before. I was bashful and shy and probably showed it too. I sat down gingerly and ordered breakfast. Not much later came the sound of a booming voice.

Familiar from yesterday, on the plane. With a resounding “good morning” and a nod to each table, he sat down with a group.
After a while, seeing me, a lone strange woman in a saree, he came over to sit with me. He was wearing the collar indicative of his calling. Said his name was Desmond Tutu and asked if he could join me for breakfast. He talked with me at length. An exceptionally strong personality just oozed through his manner, his voice and his speech. There was no doubt that I was required to respond. Wanted to know where I was from, what my country was like, what I was doing, why I was in Gaborone, my plans and so on. He was gone the next day. The hotel people told me he had come to Jo’burg for the day to participate in a meeting. They thought he had gone on to Cape Town.

Very many years later Nalin and I went for a week’s holiday in Cape Town. On my birthday which fell on a Sunday we went to St. George’s Cathedral. Sir Desmond was Archbishop in Cape Town and St. George’s was his parish. He was preaching elsewhere that Sunday. So I did not meet Sir Desmond Tutu again. An anti-apartheid and human rights activist, he was the first black Archbishop of Cape Town, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, the Albert Schweitzer Prize for Humanitarianism and the Gandhi Peace Prize. I had him in my memories and he enriched them.

Introduction to Botswana

The next morning I was sitting at the desk of the Chief Medical Officer of the Ministry of Health or MOH. He was a Norwegian and it was he who ran the health service in Botswana from the Ministry in Gaborone. There were very few Motswana – as the people of Botswana were called – medical doctors and these few had all studied abroad. Norwegians ran the entire health service. Seeds had been sown for a countrywide Primary Health Care Programme through the Regional Medical Officers of Health. This was said to be developing well and covering large parts of the country.
When he learned who I was and what my mission was, he sent for Adelaide Darling Kgosidinsti. While we waited until she arrived he attended to the collection of files on his table. He was obviously a very busy man and did not talk much.

Adelaide arrived. A lady with a large frame and distinctly commanding presence. She looked quite beautiful with her hair made neatly into a plait and folded round her head. Her skin, as was that of the people of her country, a distinctly lighter shade than those from the countries nearer the tropics like Kenya. Even Nigeria. Adelaide was introduced to me as the Commissioner of the Special Services Unit for the Handicapped. She was in charge of all disability prevention and rehabilitation services in the country. She was my National Counterpart.
The Chief Medical Officer and Adelaide had both met Einar. Einar had been to Botswana three years before me to plan for the setting up of CBR. The Chief Medical Officer instructed Adelaide to take me to Serowe and have me start on the task I had come to do for WHO. He did not show much interest in it. As I said earlier, he was obviously a very busy man. When Adelaide asked him how we should travel, he replied, “Take her on the train.”

Adelaide, I later came to know wanted to take me by road, which is how UN consultants are usually taken. But for me it was overnight on the train. I know not why. Adelaide slept most of the way. I had learned that she was not one given to chatting anyway. I was too excited to sleep. I enjoyed that train ride and repeated it many times, up and down to Serowe, a distance of about 300 kilometres.
However, there was but one experience that I did not look forward to on that train journey each way. I was required to change trains at Palapye, an important junction. This was around two in the morning and I had to wait near enough to an hour. At these times there was no one else around except for a few drunks weaving themselves around the platform. I was safe as long as I could stay away from their line of vision. There were occasions when I could not. Then it was always a game of hide and seek.

On our arrival early morning in Serowe a vehicle from the Regional Health Office met us. Our first visit had to be the Kgotla, the Office of the Chief to obtain his approval for my visit to his village and for my work here. The chief was in his colourful formal attire knowing that a foreigner was expected. Adelaide made sure that I followed all the proper protocols required by way of seating, greeting and conversing.
The Chief was most interested in how I was going to help the people of Serowe. He told me how families cared for their disabled members and explained a few traditional beliefs. He also told me that this was the largest village in Africa, with a population of 30,000 people. It was the home of the Bamangwato tribe and home to the Khama family. He was very proud of this, and naturally so.
Then the surprise – he said that he had someone from Sri Lanka working in his office.

He said I should meet him and had him sent for. In walked Mr. Swaminathan. He was the accountant in this small Tribal Office. That evening Mr. Swaminathan brought his wife together with his young daughter and son to visit me. We became friends. His children loved to visit me and play in my room. They were fascinated by my bedside clock and radio, obviously not having seen things used in the way I did. Here in a village on my first visit to Africa I meet a Sri Lankan. Mr. Swaminathan told me there was one more in Francistown, a large town in the north and another 30 or more in Gaborone. I met some of them on subsequent visits to Gaborone.

Some years later when I went to The Gambia, a small landlocked country in West Africa, I met around 30 Sri Lankans there too. In both places many were teachers, while others were accountants and engineers. More Sri Lankans were met when I went to the Bahamas on the other side of the world. We Sri Lankans had certainly spread ourselves around the globe.

Courtesy calls and finding a place to stay

After the Kgotla Adelaide took me to the social services office – it was a small one – to introduce me to Ethel Matiza, Social Service Officer or SSO for Serowe. Adelaide said she would be my counterpart in Serowe. We packed Ethel also into the pickup truck and went on to make a courtesy call to the Regional Medical Officer. He was from Hong Kong. When he heard that I planned to be in Serowe for three months, he invited me to stay with his wife and himself. They had a large house and plenty of space for a guest.

But Adelaide was quick to say thank you on my behalf. Because, she said, that she arranged with the director at the hospital to have me accommodated there. Which was just as well, because later I had a very small difference of opinion with the RMO. Being his guest would not have been of help in that. I learned a lesson here from Adelaide.
The director was waiting for us at the hospital. He showed me the room he had for me. The room had a bed and a dressing table. The mattress on the bed was bare with signs of long use. The windows had no curtains. I walked down a lengthy corridor to see the toilet and bathroom I would share. The bathroom had a bucket storing a little water. He then took me to the hospital kitchen and said I could prepare my meals here. I thanked him and asked if I could come back later?

Back in the vehicle, Adelaide said before I did that this was not suitable for me for a stay of three months. Ethel reminded Adelaide that there was just one option left – the Serowe Hotel. I said I did not need to see it, because that is where I would stay. Adelaide did not object too vociferously. I checked in at the Serowe Hotel and was allowed to choose my room – one of the only two that the hotel had. I chose the one with a window. Adelaide had never been here before.

Starting the field trial

We now planned with Ethel how we were to start the WHO field trial. The Regional Medical Officer had made it clear that we could have 15 Family Welfare Educators or FWEs – that is what the Primary Health Care workers were called – to participate in the trial. We could have these 15 for a maximum of three days, not more. Their routine work could not be interrupted. As soon as Ethel heard this from the RMO she sent off a message on the human telegraph line that the selected 15 should be at the community hall by 9 a.m. the next day. And they all were.
In the community hall the next morning Adelaide welcomed them, explaining to them that they had been asked to come to learn how to carry out this important task for the World Health Organisation in Geneva. And then she left for Gaborone to get back to her other duties. She came back to Serowe a couple of times to see how I was getting on. She went with us to the field to learn about CBR (Community Based Rehabilitation) in Botswana.

Ethel and I worked with the FWEs to prepare them for the work they were to undertake. We had enough Manuals to give one to each of them. We introduced them to all the components of the Manuals, discussing how each could be used; we had them describe and discuss the different disabled people – children and adults – they had met in their villages, the problems they had, and look for relevant parts of the Manual which they could use to give them advice on what they may do.

We set them problems to solve, case studies to discuss, turning the Manual this way and that, inside and out. Our aim, given these three short days, was to make them as familiar as possible with the actual physical handling of the Manual while learning it. At the same time as she was teaching with me, Ethel was also learning about the Manual. It was she who supervised the use of it after I was gone.
All in all, the entire workshop was essentially participatory and action-oriented. There was no other way. Serowe in Botswana was just one example of rural health and development and prioritising delivery needs. This was the reality in most developing countries.

This was the reality which CBR will have to use as an entry point. An essential first experience.Before the three days came to an end we made a programme with the FWEs. Ethel and I would visit them in their own areas of work. We asked them to get together in groups of three for this purpose. We would visit each group once a week. Before our visit, they would select disabled people in their areas who we would visit together. We would go to the homes of these people together, to continue their learning and ours in the use of the Manual.

And this field teaching and learning is what we did for the next 11 weeks in Botswana. It was at this time that the words of the Chinese Philosopher Lao Tzu came home to me with conviction:
“Go to the people. Live with them. Learn from them. Love them. Start with what they know. Build with what they have. But with the best leaders (teachers), when the work is done, the task accomplished, the people will say ‘We have done this ourselves’ “.

This has been the philosophy underlying my own CBR teaching from those first days in Botswana to this day.



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Features

Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control

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The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.

It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.

A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.

Multi-dimensional poverty

Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.

Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.

They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.

It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.

It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.

Ethical decision-making

That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.

Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.

What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.

Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.

Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.

Modern Condition

The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.

This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.

The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.

Symbolic systems

What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.

This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa

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Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?

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As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.

Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.

There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I

There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.

There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.

Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?

What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.

I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?

It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.

There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.

There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.

As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.

By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana

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Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller

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Professor Vijaya Kumar

The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.

I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.

The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.

Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!

Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.

Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.

Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.

Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.

Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).

Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.

(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).

*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.

(Colombo Telegraph)

By Tissa Jayatilaka

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