Features
Two memorable years in Jaffna
Reading the late ACB Pethiyagoda’s memoir of his time at Jaffna College, Vadukoddai, Goolbai Gunasekera’s memory was jogged about just under two years she herself spent in Jaffna. Pethiyagoda went from Trinity to Jaffna College as he was interested in a career in agriculture and though that this would be better served in Jaffna rather than in Kandy. Goolbai went to Jaffna when her mother, the eminent educationist Clara Motwani, accepted the post of principal at Hindu Ladies College. She has recounted this experience in two chapters of the book she wrote about her mother, Chosen Ground. We publish the first of these today.
Jaffna, the Peninsula in the north of the island, is only about three hundred and ninety kilometres distant from Colombo, yet contrasts in living styles and language, the majority religion of Hinduism, and the attitudes of its people made it seem virtually another country. The Tamils of the north and the Sinhalese of the south co-existed in reasonable comfort, peace and quiet despite earlier historical depredations on both sides. Distinguished Tamils were at the forefront of the national movement for Independence, along with other great leaders belonging to the Sinhalese, Muslim and Burgher communities.
Colombo schools – indeed, schools all over the island, had Tamils studying happily beside the Sinhalese majority island race. Alongside were Parsis, Indians, and the earlier mentioned Muslims and Burghers. This rich mix made up the multi-racial, multi-cultural and multi-religious population of Sri Lanka, and has done so for as long as we remember.
Life flowed along with very little trouble. True inter-racial and inter-religious marriages were rare, but they did occasionally occur. Socially, there was no divide. Sports clubs, social clubs, Government services, the Mercantile sector, Universities and of course, schools, contained a judicious mix of all Sri Lankans. And this idyllic state continued after Independence was achieved, until a kind of crude, unfocused day of terrorism in 1983 drove the Sinhalese and Tamils irrevocably apart destroying any illusion of cordiality. Only in 2003 did peace talks at last begin.
Colombo was always a cosmopolitan city, standing, as it does, at the crossroads of the sea-lanes. The British fleets brought not only trade to our shores but also visitors, tourists … and not only just visitors from other British colonies, but also some famous Americans who were enchanted with the island of Ceylon. “My God, but it’s beautiful,” Mark Twain wrote, although he was wilting in the heat.
Missionary activity was at its height during British colonial days. Strangely however, the American missionaries got to Jaffna before the British did. There they continued to remain, and the excellent schools they founded exist to this day, albeit now under the Government’s National Education system.
Many years ago an Archbishop of Canterbury made the comment that it had to be admitted that the Christian missions to Asia had failed. Percentage-wise, converts were few among the general population, but the influence of those schools was immense.
St. Patrick’s College and the Uduvil Girls’ School in Jaffna are still among the best in the island. Heading Uduvil at this moment of writing is a colleague and friend — Mrs. Shiranee Mills who belongs to the highly respected Tamil Christian Mills family of Jaffna.
That Mother would consider working outside Colombo, and in Jaffna of all places, never entered our heads. She had not visited the north, and her knowledge of the district was minimal. She had many Tamil friends of course. Her bridge foursome buddies at the Womens’ International Club (where eventually she became both President and then Chairman) were ladies like Mrs. Girlie Cooke, Mrs. Podi Singham, Mrs. Nagulamba Somasunderam, Miss Alagi Muttukumaru, and others. She had also had many Tamil colleagues in the world of education. One was the gracious Inspector of Schools, Miss Chelliah. However, Mother’s friends were not necessarily in the habit of discussing Jaffna at the bridge table while bidding their hands.
Once Mother was comfortably ensconced in Jaffna, Miss Chelliah paid a visit to Hindu Ladies’ College to see how she was getting along in this totally unfamiliar milieu. Visiting my class – Grade 6 – she asked the girls if they knew which religious group worshipped fire. Thanks to my father’s Parsi guardian, I knew the answer to that one. “The Parsis, I said. “Very good.” Miss Chelliah was surprised. She had no idea who I was, but just to make sure we were all on the ball, she then asked if anyone could name the Seven Modern Wonders of the World. To a girl, the class reeled them off. Miss Chelliah was more taken aback than surprised. We seemed a splendidly knowledgeable bunch.
Back in Mother’s office, she mentioned that the General Knowledge standard seemed very high. This was not very good news to Mother who was having student problems she had never dreamed of ever facing. Her students in Jaffna were TOO study-oriented. But more of this later.
Mother had asked her Tamil friends in Colombo if they thought she would like Jaffna.
“You’ll love it,” they replied, although on what they based this certainty was hard to ascertain. Love it we did. Father went off on one of his lecture tours in the States leaving Mother to cope with the problems of moving. Fortunately we had Cathleen still with us, and she coped easily.
Cathleen’s older sister, Nimal, a gentle and loving woman, had been mother’s maid at the time of my birth. When she left to get married, 16-year-old Cathleen stayed on to care for Su. Su had been born in America, and had spent her first years with my grandparents in Illinois. She was not too well at birth, and travel in those days was not the ’round the world in 24 hours’ business that it is today. Mother left Su behind and she only came out to the East when she was nearly five.
The young maid brought in to care for a homesick little girl was Cathleen. Su and she remained close till Cathleen died in 2000. Su was very unhappy at all this uprooting. She desperately missed her grandparents and voiced her fury each night at bedtime. In the hope that we would grow close as sisters, Mother made us sleep in the same room. Su’s nightly bellows put paid to any such maternal hopes. We have pretty much remained guardedly tolerant of each other all our lives. And to add to our mental and psychological differences, our adult lives have been lived on opposite sides of the world. Su now lives in New York near her married daughter Anu, son-in-law Sumith, and her enchanting grandson, Sohan.
In Jaffna the American Missionaries had been active since the days of British rule. I have never been quite sure why they opted for Jaffna, but there they descended, and made a roaring success of the schools they founded. They naturally sought converts while they were about it. Mrs. Ranji Senanayake, wife of Maitripala Senanayake, former Government Minister of Irrigation, once told me that if one delved deep enough one would find that all Tamil Christians were related.
Missionaries encouraged the members of their flock to marry one another, and there soon emerged a highly educated and professionally qualified community of Tamil Christians. The Hindus were not slow in founding their own Hindu schools, and Hindu Ladies’ College (which Mother now headed) was one such Institution.
Tamil Hindus studied in Christian institutions, but it was natural and inevitable that a movement would develop that would aim at educating Hindu children in a Hindu environment. I was too young to recall if Jaffna had ever needed the services of a Colonel Olcott who revitalized Buddhism so dramatically. I do not know if Hinduism in the North was ever at risk as was Buddhism in the South. I do not think so.
At any rate, an American Principal, and one as well known as Mother, was a popular choice with the parents of HLC.
Mother was not a missionary, but her appointment gave the fledgling school a certain cachet. So to Jaffna we went. Our long love affair with the North started from the minute we got off the train. The crisp, dry air was very much to Mother’s liking. Even the sparse landscape suited her preference for a simple, uncluttered environment. I bonded with the Tamil girls instantly and copied whatever they did, even to the wearing of the pavada/sattai (the long skirt, blouse and half sari). I straightaway developed a schoolgirl crush on Miss Vijayalakshmi Pathy who taught History and Botany. Had she taught Mathematics, my attainment in that subject might not have been in the sorry state it was for most of my school life.
To get back to Mother’s unhappiness with Miss Chelliah’s compliment: at first she was ecstatic at the work ethic displayed by the girls of Jaffna. She was not given to breathing down the necks of her pupils urging them to study, study, study. She wanted a balanced, well-rounded student to emerge, as it were from a cocoon, well prepared for the hard world of the day — but cultured and very feminine withal.
The girls of HLC were a revelation. Never had Mother encountered the seriousness with which these traditionally reared Tamil girls approached life. Education is revered in Asia. In Jaffna it is worshipped. Imagine, if you will, a class of 25 students who hung on every word uttered by the teacher and accepted these nuggets of knowledge with the same reverence Prophet Mohammed displayed on Mount Hira when the Angel Gabriel revealed his message.
A teacher’s Nirvana, would you not say? Indeed, yes. But Mother was not a happy being. She worried that the lack of discussion and a total avoidance of confrontational issues caused the Tamil girls to lack analytical skills. “You must not believe everything a teacher tells you,” she would say. “Learn to question even your Principal.” The senior students smiled politely, unbelieving of such heresy, and went right on accepting a teacher’s word as an act of faith.
Mother’s general impression of young people was probably that of teachers all over the world. Lassitude and a drooping of energy would follow moments of clarity and hard mental activity. This appeared normal. The sustained high achievement maintained by her Jaffna girls was a new experience.
“Teach your students how to study,” she used to direct her teachers in Colombo. “Children often need to be taught methods and mnemonic schemes as aides to memory.”
She did not say this in Jaffna. She didn’t need to. Everybody studied, including me.
Mother was ecstatic at the work ethic I was so uncharacteristically displaying, and she rightly gave credit to the peer pressure exerted by my classmates and those motivated teachers like Miss Pathy and Miss Leela Ponniah. Mother never forced study times on either Su or me. My sudden self-motivation surprised her no end.
Mother had a brain like a satellite dish – always picking things out of clear, blue skies. Student questionnaires was one such brainwave. Determined to get her Tamil girls to be more aggressive, she started a series of ‘Yes/No’ type questionnaires, which forced students to think independently. The slightly horrified girls of HLC could not believe they were being forced to make judgments on “Do you find Maths interesting? If not, why? How would you like it taught?”
They found it all slightly heretical. Excitement and lively discussion, opposition to a teacher’s views, or argumentative attitudes, were not part of a Jaffna girl’s psyche at that time (1946). Those particular questionnaires did not galvanize them into becoming the sort of question boxes Mother had hoped for, but let it go on record that Mother never had to write, “Not trying” on any student report she signed in Jaffna.
Features
Addressing human rights needs multi-pronged approach
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.
Features
The emptying university: why are academics leaving?
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.
Features
Friends favourite Suzi Croner returns for Oktoberfest 2026
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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