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Wevas, large and small

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The Dry Zone is my favourite place in Sri Lanka and, I dare add, in the whole wide world. The coasts with the restless or restful sea dashing or serenely washing the sands; the cool of the central hills with their brilliant greens and splashes of colour; even the yellow sands dotted by tall palmyrah palms cannot beat the bright sparkle of early morning in the Dry Zone nor the soft, faintly purple dusk followed by the brilliance of masses of pinpoints of light in the darkening sky; soon to be followed by a huge moon shedding silver. It’s an entirely different air one breathes, and if in one of the ancient cities, or in sight of the rising dagobas and spreading bo trees, the spirit is uplifted and one feels proud to be Sri Lankan.

Of these favourite places, I most love to be near are the wewas – some of them minor seas, others whose boundaries can be discerned and a few which are no more than large ponds, covered with lotus. It is exhilarating to drive or walk along a wewa bund. Just as the wide expanse of softy waved water fascinates, so does the luscious green vegetation on the other side.

I know how, where, when and by whom this love for wewas was bred in me: around age 10 when the brother just older than me and I holidayed with my eldest brother – the Divisional Revenue Officer of Demala Hath Pattu, a Kandyan District. He lived and had his office in Anamaduwa. There was a large wewa on one edge of the very small township of a couple of ‘kades’ and a kerosene shed. We never bathed there; too public, So it was a trudge in the evenings through forest to a small, dark wewa. The initial tentative steps in the water were tremulous and fearful since no bottom was seen. But with two brothers and one strong Haramanis to rush to the rescue, I was soon completely aquatic.

This bathing wewa among the trees and bushes must have been a ‘huluwewa’ or ‘kuluwewa’. I came across the name in a recent newspaper article, but I did not note the name, hence the doubt about it. These small reservoirs tucked in the forests were constructed in ancient times for the use of man and beast thanks to the consideration of our ancient kings for remote villagers and animals of the jungle, while also constructing marvels of irrigation technology.

Input from history

Sir Henry Parker, English engineer who worked in Ceylon in the mid 19th century when the British ruled us, studied the wewas and the marvels of our ancient irrigation system, leaving us much know-how. He said as one whose duties permitted him to gain an intimate acquaintance with the ancient works: “I have never concealed my admiration of the engineering knowledge of the designers of the great irrigation schemes of Ceylon and the skills with which they constructed the works.”

According to him the origin of the wewa was in the Euphrates civilization from where it came to India and then to Ceylon with the Aryans. This is also supposedly in line with the writings of the Mahawamsa. However he commends as a special feat the construction genius of the Sinhalese in the formation of all reservoirs with embankments much higher than those of simple village tanks; great earthen bunds, often some miles in length across many valleys thus intercepting the flow of streams and storing water during the rainy seasons, forming immense sheets of water in reservoirs.

Most of our great kings and leaders (D S Senanayake) are remembered for the gifts of wewas constructed in their day and under their patronage comparable to the patronage they gave Buddhism. “It was the wewa that sustained cultivation which produced enough food for everyone and a healthy population. Some kings have been deified for building wewas, and legend has it that the spirits of others still protect the wewas and anicuts they caused to be built. However it is sad that the wewa civilization degenerated with the foreign conquests and abandonment of the ancient kingdoms.”

There was talk of the revival of ancient wewas but that was not to be. Rather we recently saw the utter sacrilege (I call it this) of some crazy persons constructing jogging paths along the most venerated and largest of ancient wewas – the Polonnaruwa Parakrama Samudra (12th Century), Kala Wewa near Anuradhapua built by King Datusena in 307 BC; the scene of Kassyapa’s crime of patricide. Perhaps the Kantalai Wewa was also targetted by these vandals who definitely endanger the earth bunds with their bulldozers. The bunds as they are can very well serve as jogging paths – so few vehicles use them, even the roads of the ancient cities. So why construct jogging paths?

Wewa and dagaba

Kings who got wewas constructed, paying workmen in cash or kind (unlike pyramid building) always built a temple with dagoba close by or on the wewa bund itself. This may have been to propitiate spirits of devathavas whose territory was intruded upon. And for the protection of the wewa itself. A historian I consulted conveyed interesting information, which he had gathered from a research paper of one of his students. He said that the larger wewas were constructed and definite areas earmarked and separated (perhaps by underwater piles of small rocks or whatever) so that no contamination occurred to the water for temple use – no intrusion was permitted to this demarcated area. Next, parts were set aside for villagers’ use and here again separated for drinking and bathing and washing of clothes. Animals, the elephant particularly and farm cattle, were catered to in an entirely different section of the wewa. To enforce this separation and guard the wewa, a man was appointed by the king, residing in the temple or within its premises.

A tale of mystery founded

on a necessity

The most interesting facet was that once a very handsome worker was in a wewa construction team. Women of the village were fascinated, nay hypnotized by him, according to the tale. He was thus named Kalu Kumaraya. (May have been a darky Romeo! Sinhalese of course but dark skinned). When he died or migrated to build another wewa, his spirit was said to haunt the wewa bund. A convenient tall tale grabbed at because of the belief that women are unclean during their monthly periods and so the discomfort and consternation caused by supposing they came to the wewa of an evening to wash soiled clothes. (No disposables then!!). To prevent such, the warning floated around that Kalu Kumaraya’s ghost roamed around at evening beside wewas to capture women he fancied. No details given, none from the historian or his student as to what the consequent fate of the captured was – death or a happy living ever after.

Well, the name of the night ghost continued and I have heard it along with Mohini, a lovely lithesome lass who persistently visits young handsome men who live alone. Maybe another pragmatic myth to discourage bachelorhood and promote marriage!

Personal fascination

My fascination with wewas will never dim though travel is much restricted now and age catches up. Remembered are family picnic lunches on wewa bunds and once napping on a mat with strong Tissa Wewa winds blowing, to get up enervated. A special happening is sitting on the Nuwara Wewa bund near the old rest thouse, now extended and refurbished, to gaze at the distant Mihintale dagoba, soaking in the ambience of sanctity and complete peace. Clearly recalled is an evening bath with husband and son at the edge of the Senanayake Samudra with elephants close on the opposite side. Very recently staying over with six nieces and nephews at the old rest house now named The Lake House, with its dining area jutting into the Parakrama Samudra.

I end with the oft quoted words of wisdom attributed to Parakrama Bahu the Great (1123-1186). “Let not even a drop of water that comes from the rain flow into the ocean without being made useful to man.”

More current from French naval officer, ocean explorer and co-inventor of the Aqua Lung – Jacques-Yves Cousteau: “We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one.”



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Humanitarian leadership in a time of war

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Sri Lanka Navy rescuing survivors of the US torpedo attack on IRIS Dena last week

There has been a rare consensus of opinion in the country that the government’s humanitarian response to the sinking of Iran’s naval ship IRIS Dena was the correct one. The support has spanned the party political spectrum and different sections of society. Social media commentary, statements by political parties and discussion in mainstream media have all largely taken the position that Sri Lanka acted in accordance with humanitarian principles and international law. In a period when public debate in Sri Lanka is often sharply divided, the sense of agreement on this issue is noteworthy and reflects positively on the ethos and culture of a society that cares for those in distress. A similar phenomenon was to be witnessed in the rallying of people of all ethnicities and backgrounds to help those affected by the Ditwah Cyclone in December last year.

The events that led to this situation unfolded with dramatic speed. In the early hours before sunrise the Dina made a distress call. The ship was one of three Iranian naval vessels that had taken part in a naval gathering organised by India in which more than 70 countries had participated, including Sri Lanka. Naval gatherings of this nature are intended to foster professional exchange, confidence building and goodwill between navies. They are also governed by strict protocols regarding armaments and conduct.

When the exhibition ended open war between the United States and Iran had not yet broken out. The three Iranian ships that participated in the exhibition left the Indian port and headed into international waters on their journey back home. Under the protocol governing such gatherings ships may not be equipped with offensive armaments. This left them particularly vulnerable once the regional situation changed dramatically, though the US Indo-Pacific Command insists the ship was armed. The sudden outbreak of war between the United States and Iran would have alerted the Iranian ships that they were sailing into danger. According to reports, they sought safe harbour and requested docking in Sri Lanka’s ports but before the Sri Lankan government could respond the Dena was fatally hit by a torpedo.

International Law

The sinking of the Dena occurred just outside Sri Lanka’s territorial waters. Whatever decision the Sri Lankan government made at this time was bound to be fraught with consequence. The war that is currently being fought in the Middle East is a no-holds-barred one in which more than 15 countries have come under attack. Now the sinking of the Dena so close to Sri Lanka’s maritime boundary has meant that the war has come to the very shores of the country. In times of war emotions run high on all sides and perceptions of friend and enemy can easily become distorted. Parties involved in the conflict tend to gravitate to the position that “those who are not with us are against us.” Such a mindset leaves little room for neutrality or humanitarian discretion.

In such situations countries that are not directly involved in the conflict may wish to remain outside it by avoiding engagement. Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath informed the international media that Sri Lanka’s response to the present crisis was rooted in humanitarian principles, international law and the United Nations. The Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) which was adopted 1982 provides the legal framework governing maritime conduct and obliges states to render assistance to persons in distress at sea. In terms of UNCLOS, countries are required to render help to anyone facing danger in maritime waters regardless of nationality or the circumstances that led to the emergency. Sri Lanka’s response to the distress call therefore reflects both humanitarianism and adherence to international law.

Within a short period of receiving the distress message from the stricken Iranian warship the Sri Lankan government sent its navy to the rescue. They rescued more than thirty Iranian sailors who had survived the attack and were struggling in the water. The rescue operation also brought to Sri Lanka the bodies of those who had perished when their ship sank. The scale of the humanitarian challenge is significant. Sri Lanka now has custody of more than eighty bodies of sailors who lost their lives in the sinking of the Dena. In addition, a second Iranian naval ship IRINS Bushehr with more than two hundred sailors has come under Sri Lanka’s protection. The government therefore finds itself responsible for survivors but also for the dignified treatment of the bodies of the dead Iranian sailors.

Sri Lanka’s decision to render aid based on humanitarian principles, not political allegiance, reinforces the importance of a rules-based international order for all countries. Reliance on international law is particularly important for small countries like Sri Lanka that lack the power to defend themselves against larger actors. For such countries a rules-based international order provides at least a measure of protection by ensuring that all states operate within a framework of agreed norms. Sri Lanka itself has played a notable role in promoting such norms. In 1971 the United Nations General Assembly adopted a resolution declaring the Indian Ocean a Zone of Peace. The initiative for this proposal came from Sri Lanka, which argued that the Indian Ocean should be protected from great power rivalry and militarisation.

Moral Beacon

Unfortunately, the current global climate suggests that the rules-based order is barely operative. Conflicts in different parts of the world have increasingly shown disregard for the norms and institutions that were created in the aftermath of the Second World War to regulate international behaviour. In such circumstances it becomes even more important for smaller countries to demonstrate their commitment to international law and to convert the bigger countries to adopt more humane and universal thinking. The humanitarian response to the Iranian sailors therefore needs to be seen in this wider context. By acting swiftly to rescue those in distress and by affirming that its actions are guided by international law, Sri Lanka has enhanced its reputation as a small country that values peace, humane values, cooperation and the rule of law. It would be a relief to the Sri Lankan government that earlier communications that the US government was urging Sri Lanka not to repatriate the Iranian sailors has been modified to the US publicly acknowledging the applicability of international law to what Sri Lanka does.

The country’s own experience of internal conflict has shaped public consciousness in important ways. Sri Lanka endured a violent internal war that lasted nearly three decades. During that period questions relating to the treatment of combatants, the protection of civilians, missing persons and accountability became central issues. As a result, Sri Lankans today are familiar with the provisions of international law that deal with war crimes, the treatment of wounded or disabled combatants and the fate of those who go missing in conflict. The country continues to host an international presence in the form of UN agencies and the ICRC that work with the government on humanitarian and post conflict issues. The government needs to apply the same principled commitment of humanitarianism and the rule of law to the unresolved issues from Sri Lanka’s own civil war, including accountability and reconciliation.

By affirming humanitarian principles and acting accordingly towards the Iranian sailors and their ship Sri Lanka has become a moral beacon for peace and goodwill in a world that often appears to be moving in the opposite direction. At a time when geopolitical rivalries are intensifying and humanitarian norms are frequently ignored, such actions carry symbolic significance. The credibility of Sri Lanka’s moral stance abroad will be further enhanced by its ability to uphold similar principles at home. Sri Lanka continues to grapple with unresolved issues arising from its own internal conflict including questions of accountability, justice, reparations and reconciliation. It has a duty not only to its own citizens, but also to suffering humanity everywhere. Addressing its own internal issues sincerely will strengthen Sri Lanka’s moral standing in the international community and help it to be a force for a new and better world.

BY Jehan Perera

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Language: The symbolic expression of thought

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It was Henry Sweet, the English phonetician and language scholar, who said, “Language may be defined as the expression of thought by means of speech sounds“. In today’s context, where language extends beyond spoken sounds to written text, and even into signs, it is best to generalise more and express that language is the “symbolic expression of thought“. The opposite is also true: without the ability to think, there will not be a proper development of the ability to express in a language, as seen in individuals with intellectual disability.

Viewing language as the symbolic expression of thought is a philosophical way to look at early childhood education. It suggests that language is not just about learning words; it is about a child learning that one thing, be it a sound, a scribble, or a gesture, can represent something else, such as an object, a feeling, or an idea. It facilitates the ever-so-important understanding of the given occurrence rather than committing it purely to memory. In the world of a 0–5-year-old, this “symbolic leap” of understanding is the single most important cognitive milestone.

Of course, learning a language or even more than one language is absolutely crucial for education. Here is how that viewpoint fits into early life education:

1. From Concrete to Abstract

Infants live in a “concrete” world: if they cannot see it or touch it, it does not exist. Early education helps them to move toward symbolic thought. When a toddler realises that the sound “ball” stands for that round, bouncy thing in the corner, they have decoded a symbol. Teachers and parents need to facilitate this by connecting physical objects to labels constantly. This is why “Show and Tell” is a staple of early education, as it gently compels the child to use symbols, words or actions to describe a tangible object to others, who might not even see it clearly.

2. The Multi-Modal Nature of Symbols

Because language is “symbolic,” it does not matter how exactly it is expressed. The human brain treats spoken words, written text, and sign language with similar neural machinery.

Many educators advocate the use of “Baby Signs” (simple gestures) before a child can speak. This is powerful because it proves the child has the thought (e.g., “I am hungry”) and can use a symbol like putting the hand to the mouth, before their vocal cords are physically ready to produce the word denoting hunger.

Writing is the most abstract symbol of all: it is a squiggle written on a page, representing a sound, which represents an idea or a thought. Early childhood education prepares children for this by encouraging “emergent writing” (scribbling), even where a child proudly points to a messy circle that the child has drawn and says, “This says ‘I love Mommy’.”

3. Symbolic Play (The Dress Rehearsal)

As recognised in many quarters, play is where this theory comes to life. Between ages 2 and 3, children enter the Symbolic Play stage. Often, there is object substitution, as when a child picks up a banana and holds it to his or her ear like a telephone. In effect, this is a massive intellectual achievement. The child is mentally “decoupling” the object from its physical reality and assigning it a symbolic meaning. In early education, we need to encourage this because if a child can use a block as a “car,” they are developing the mental flexibility required to later understand that the letter “C” stands for the sound of “K” as well.

4. Language as a Tool for “Internal Thought”

Perhaps the most fascinating fit is the work of psychologist Lev Vygotsky, who argued that language eventually turns inward to become private speech. Have you ever seen a 4-year-old talking to himself or herself while building a toy tower? “No, the big one goes here….. the red one goes here…. steady… there.” That is a form of self-regulation. Educators encourage this “thinking out loudly.” It is the way children use the symbol system of language to organise their own thoughts and solve problems. Eventually, this speech becomes silent as “inner thought.”

Finally, there is the charming thought of the feasibility of conversing with very young children in two or even three or more languages. In Sri Lanka, the three main languages are Sinhala, Tamil and English. There are questions asked as to whether it is OK to talk to little ones in all three languages or even in two, so that they would learn?

According to scientific authorities, the short, clear and unequivocal answer to that query is that not only is it “OK”, it is also a significant cognitive gift to a child.

In a trilingual environment like Sri Lanka, many parents worry that multiple languages will “confuse” a child or cause a “speech delay.” However, modern neuroscience has debunked these myths. The infant brain is perfectly capable of building three or even more separate “lexicons” (vocabularies) simultaneously.

Here is how the “symbolic expression of thought” works in a multilingual brain and how we can manage it effectively.

a). The “Multiple Labels” Phenomenon

In a monolingual home, a child learns one symbol for an object. For example, take the word “Apple.” In a Sri Lankan trilingual home, the child learns three symbols for that same thought:

* Apple (English)

* Apal

(Sinhala – ඇපල්)

* Appil

(Tamil – ஆப்பிள்)

Because the trilingual child learns that one “thought” can be expressed by multiple “symbols,” the child’s brain becomes more flexible. This is why bilingual and trilingual children often score higher on tasks involving “executive function”, meaning the ability to switch focus and solve complex problems.

b). Is there a “Delay”?

(The Common Myth)

One might notice that a child in a trilingual home may start to speak slightly later than a monolingual peer, or they might have a smaller vocabulary in each language at age two.

However, if one adds up the total number of words they know across all three languages, they are usually ahead of monolingual children. By age five, they typically catch up in all languages and possess a much more “plastic” and adaptable brain.

c). Strategies for Success: How to Do It?

To help the child’s brain organise these three symbol systems, it helps to have some “consistency.” Here are the two most effective methods:

* One Person, One Language (OPOL), the so-called “gold standard” for multilingual families.

Amma

speaks only Sinhala, while the Father speaks only English, and the Grandparents or Nanny speak only Tamil. The child learns to associate a specific language with a specific person. Their brain creates a “map”: “When I talk to Amma, I use these sounds; when I talk to Thaththa, I use those,” etc.

*

Situational/Contextual Learning. If the parents speak all three, one could divide languages by “environment”: English at the dinner table, Sinhala during play and bath time and Tamil when visiting relatives or at the market.

These, of course, need NOT be very rigid rules, but general guidance, applied judiciously and ever-so-kindly.

d). “Code-Mixing” is Normal

We need not be alarmed if a 3-year-old says something like: “Ammi, I want that palam (fruit).” This is called Code-Mixing. It is NOT a sign of confusion; it is a sign of efficiency. The child’s brain is searching for the quickest way to express a thought and grabs the most “available” word from their three language cupboards. As they get older, perhaps around age 4 or 5, they will naturally learn to separate them perfectly.

e). The “Sri Lankan Advantage”

Growing up trilingual in Sri Lanka provides a massive social and cognitive advantage.

For a start, there will be Cultural Empathy. Language actually carries culture. A child who speaks Sinhala, Tamil, and English can navigate all social spheres of the country quite effortlessly.

In addition, there are the benefits of a Phonetic Range. Sinhala and Tamil have many sounds that do not exist in English (and even vice versa). Learning these as a child wires the ears to hear and reproduce almost any human sound, making it much easier to learn more languages (like French or Japanese) later in life.

As an abiding thought, it is the considered opinion of the author that a trilingual Sri Lanka will go a long way towards the goals and display of racial harmony, respect for different ethnic groups, and unrivalled national coordination in our beautiful Motherland. Then it would become a utopian heaven, where all people, as just Sri Lankans, can live in admirable concordant synchrony, rather than as splintered clusters divided by ethnicity, language and culture.

A Helpful Summary Checklist for Parents

* Do Not Drop a Language:

If you stop speaking Tamil because you are worried about English, the child loses that “neural real estate.” Keep all three languages going.

* High-Quality Input:

Do not just use “commands” (Eat! Sleep!). Use the Parentese and Serve and Return methods (mentioned in an earlier article) in all the languages.

* Employ Patience:

If the little one mixes up some words, just model the right words and gently correct the sentence and present it to the child like a suggestion, without scolding or finding fault with him or her. The child will then learn effortlessly and without resentment or shame.

by Dr b. J. C. Perera

MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics), MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony.
FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)

Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka

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SIMPSON’S … set to carve a distinct sonic identity

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SIMPSON’S: Quite active in the scene here

It is, indeed, encouraging to see our local artistes working on new formats, where their music is concerned.

Variety is the spice of life, they say, and I do agree, especially when it comes to music.

Blending modern synth textures, ambient layers and soulful undertones, the group SIMPSON’S is set to carve a distinct sonic identity within Sri Lanka’s contemporary music landscape.

Their vision, they say, is not simply to produce songs, but to create emotional atmospheres – experiences that elevate, energise and resonate, both locally and beyond.

This four-piece outfit came into the scene, less than two years ago, and they are already making waves with their debut single ‘Balaporottuwak’ (Hope).

The song, I’m told, marks the beginning of a new sound, and at the forefront of ‘Balaporottuwak’ is the group’s lead vocalist and guitarist, Ryo Hera, who brings a rich cultural heritage to the stage.

As a professional Kandyan Wes dancer, Ryo’s commanding presence and textured vocals bring a distinct energy to the band’s sound.

‘Balaporottuwak’

Ryo Hera: Vocals for ‘Balaporottuwak’

is more than just a debut single – it’s a declaration of intent. The band is merging tradition and modernity, power and subtlety, to create a sound that’s both authentic and innovative.

With this song, SIMPSON’S is inviting listeners to join them on an evolving musical journey, one that’s built on vision and creativity.

The recording process for ‘Balaporottuwak’ was organic and instinctive, with the band shaping the song through live studio sessions.

Dileepa Liyanage, the keyboardist and composer, is the principal sound mind behind SIMPSON’S.

With experience spanning background scores, commercial projects, cinematic themes and jingles across multiple genres, Dileepa brings structural finesse and atmospheric depth to the band’s arrangements.

He described the recording process of ‘Balaporottuwak’ as organic and instinctive: “When Ryo Hera opens his voice, it becomes effortless to shape it into any musical colour. The tone naturally adapts.”

The band’s lineup includes Buddhima Chalanu on bass, and Savidya Yasaru on drums, and, together, they create a sound that’s not just a reflection of their individual talents, but a collective vision.

Dileepa Liyanage: Brings
structural finesse and
atmospheric depth to the
band’s arrangements

What sets SIMPSON’S apart is their decision to keep the production in-house – mixing and mastering the song themselves. This allows them to maintain their unique sound and artistic autonomy.

“We work as a family and each member is given the freedom to work out his music on the instruments he handles and then, in the studio, we put everything together,” said Dileepa, adding that their goal is to release an album, made up of Sinhala and English songs.

Steering this creative core is manager Mangala Samarajeewa, whose early career included managing various international artistes. His guidance has positioned SIMPSON’S not merely as a performing unit, but as a carefully envisioned project – one aimed at expanding Sri Lanka’s contemporary music vocabulary.

SIMPSON’S are quite active in the scene here, performing, on a regular basis, at popular venues in Colombo, and down south, as well.

They are also seen, and heard, on Spotify, TikTok, Apple Music, iTunes, and Deezer.

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