Features

Fieldwork and Travels in Rural Sindh, Pakistan

Published

5 months ago

2024/11/3

by Jayantha Perera

After completing my Ford fellowship at Oxford University in 1991, I joined the Indus River Left Bank Outfall Drainage Project in Sindh, Pakistan, as its Senior Socio-Economist and resident team leader. The project, sponsored by the World Bank, Asian Development Bank, and several other international donors, aimed at improving irrigated agriculture in Sindh. The Sindh Development Studies Centre (SDSC) of the University of Sindh in Jamshoro (near Hyderabad) oversaw the socio-economic studies of the project.

I arrived at Karachi Airport in late December. Parvez Pathan, my SDSC counterpart, met me at the airport. We discussed my accommodation and security on our drive to Jamshoro, about 220 kilometres from Karachi. He told me a beautifully furnished bungalow awaited me on the university campus. He opined that I should always have a trustworthy person with me for my security. SDSC had found a reliable young man to be my housekeeper, cook, and personal security guard.

It was a hot day, and the parched and dusty vast landscape looked like the moon’s surface. White sand dunes spread miles to the horizon on both sides of the highway. Occasionally, I saw small empty huts. The temperature was about 50 degrees centigrade. We drove through a desert on a melting tarred road. Sometimes, the van could not move fast without switching off its air conditioner. I thought that I might not survive in such harsh weather. I was not prepared to live in a desert. I missed Sri Lanka, where I see trees, water, blue sky, and greenery wherever I go. Thinking I would live five years in Jamshoro made me sick and sad. The journey to Jamshoro seemed never-ending.

The mirage ahead of us on the road suddenly transformed into an oasis with trees, houses, gardens, and kachcha (dirt) roads radiating from the highway. Parvez told me that we were in Jamshoro. He took me to the SDSC, where the Director and his staff were waiting for us. From the air-conditioned van, I walked to the scorching dusty veranda of the SDSC. I immediately entered the main building, which was ice cold as all air conditioners were at full speed. The Director and the staff were polite, genuinely warm, and welcoming, instantly making me feel at home. We chattered over lunch, which consisted of parathas, fried chicken, onion rings, and a tomato salad. The Director said he and his staff were happy to welcome me as a South Asian friend and brother. After lunch, Parvez took me to my bungalow in the university park.

After two days, I visited several water courses about 100 kilometres north of Jamshoro. Travelling in rural Sindh is a fascinating experience. However, it is always intertwined with the high risk of being kidnapped for ransom. In the early 1990s, a foreigner’s ‘head value’ was Pakistani Rs. 10 million. I heard a Chinese engineer had paid Rs. 8 million to his captors to return to freedom. When a victim is nabbed, dacoits (robbers) take him to the Indus Riverbank and keep him in a cave. A widespread rumour was dacoits do not capture a victim after 2 pm. It takes about 4-6 hours to reach the riverbank from the main trunk road and dacoits like to complete the task of kidnapping before sunset. They were backed by some powerful politicians and rich Zamindars (feudal landlords) who bribed the Police when a dacoit was arrested to get him released. Dacoits are ruthless and do not hesitate to behead a victim when ransom money is not delivered.

In some remote villages, one comes across old British bungalows built in the 19^th century for irrigation administration. Most are now abandoned, but a few still serve travellers and visitors. At a bungalow, a guest gets a large cot with a dirty bedspread and a pillow as hard as a stone. The bungalow keeper and the chokidar (guard) arrange guest beds in the foyer or compound. A visitor lies down and rests before engaging in any conversation. The bungalow keeper invariably serves Murry beer and local whiskey with fried chicken or karai (mutton cubes cooked in oil with onions) before the main meal is served.

Usually, guests bring beef and mutton in cool boxes. In the evenings, hot bread, unlimited onion rings, and large portions of fried meat keep a group talking for hours under the clear sky with bright and giant stars. Long spells of silence are a part of a conversation. After a few hours of eating and drinking, the dialogue moves to the past. Locals lament how badly the British treated them and, after independence, how the Punjab-led Pakistan State has usurped their assets, especially the water and land.

Once, I visited a feudal mansion with Memon, an SDSC colleague, on the border between Sindh and Baluchistan. It was in a remote village and was accessible only by a four-wheel-drive jeep. A large mango orchard surrounded the mansion. Memon’s father was a senior official at the Customs in Karachi and was known as ‘Chief.’ A kachcha (clay) parapet surrounded the mansion with one entrance. The Chief ordered his servants to organize a dabaar (audience) in the evening. They arranged two head chairs with armrests for the Chief and his guest. Two rows of chairs were placed in front of the two head chairs. The Chief and I occupied the two head chairs.

Memon, his relatives, and visitors occupied the chairs according to their family’s status. Once seated, no one started a conversation; instead, each acknowledged the others’ presence by nodding. After about 10 minutes, the Chief welcomed me to his ‘humble’ abode. He said he was responsible for my comfort, security, and happiness in the evening. Household helpers brought several bottles of Johnny Walker Blue label whisky to the dabaar. Large chunks of mutton were grilled on spikes on an open fire just behind us. The Chief and I opened the dabaar by hugging each other. In the dabaar, the Chief’s valet sat next to him on the floor. He had a large knife in his belt and did not allow anyone to get too close to the Chief.

A few hours later, the Police Chief of the area and his assistants arrived to chat with the Chief. A sub-inspector wanted to improve his English and talked to me with difficulty. He told me he knew me. “I handled your security file,” he said. Then, he revealed that he had obtained a copy of my CV from my computer with my secretary’s help while I was in Karachi. “What else do you know about me,” I asked him jokingly. The officer was too drunk to think. I told Memon what had happened, and he dismissed it as a joke. But when I showed my displeasure, Memon told the Police Officer that he was only a guest and should be careful about what he says. The officer apologized and said he would visit me for a friendly chat in Jamshoro.

When the Police officers and other visitors left the dabaar at midnight, four private armed guards emerged from nowhere. Each carried a machine gun and was dressed like a combat soldier. They checked the mansion’s interior, closed the entrance, and took position outside the wall. Memon told me armed private guards are necessary to protect life and property in rural Sindh.

The following day, I woke up to the noise of screeching parrots. The rising sun revealed a woven tapestry of beautiful clouds, and a gentle breeze brushed over the corn fields surrounding the mansion. Mustard fields at a corner gave the impression that we were in a hilly area. I went for a walk with Memon. Strong sunlight enveloped the mustard gardens, reflecting light from millions of mustard flowers. Hundreds of pheasants and wild pigeons busied around looking for worms and insects.

When I returned to the bungalow, I saw more than 50 men and women behind the kitchen waiting for their roti and subji (cooked vegetables). It was wage workers’ breakfast. An older woman (Memon’s grandmother) supervised the making and distributing chapati and subji. She joked with them and occasionally inquired about their children.

The Chief gave me two large boxes of mangoes and promised to send more. Memon and I travelled in his luxury jeep to SDSC, and my land cruiser followed it. The Chief was critical about constructing concrete irrigation canals to convey irrigation water from the river to the fields. He said kachcha (unpaved or unlined) natural canals suit the area. Due to the clay soil, the Indus River and its tributaries frequently change their paths. I pointed out that soil salinity and water logging were two critical challenges that Sinhdh farmers encountered. Kachcha canals formed shallow water pools in tributaries and watercourses, causing water logging. The concrete lining of watercourses would improve the speed of water conveyance, minimizing salinity and water logging.

On our field trips, Zamindars and Haris grieved about their lost grandeur and regional wealth. They lamented about the loss of great heroes and the failure of the new generation to look after their unique culture, which was fast disappearing. Some Zamindars and Haris served us lunch in the field, and workers sang songs before returning to work. Most folk songs they sang focused on the purity and bravery of women who stood up to powerful men. The story of King Omar falling in love with Marvi (shepherd girl) at a public well where the girl offered the king water to drink was famous. Some people had printouts of the paintings that depicted the king and the girl at the well.

Zamindars

were afraid of land reforms. As a result, they initially needed clarification about our fieldwork. They enthusiastically participated in discussions when they learned about our mission. Many of them needed to know how much land they owned. They had, however, a good idea about the boundaries of their property. They usually cultivated about half of the land in the Rabi (winter) season using rain and irrigation water; about one-fourth of the land during Kharif (summer) using only irrigation water. Often, crops failed, especially in Kharif, because of inadequate irrigation water supplies. On such occasions, tenants were burdened by the bulk of losses and were pushed into poverty and misery.

The relationship between a Zamindar and his Haris was cordial. A Zamindar selected Haris, prioritizing relatives and friends, honest and hard workers, and those with oxen and extra family labour. Haris consider Zamindars as their ‘father and mother’ (patrons) and depend on them for subsistence and protection. On average, a Hari gets 35% of the gross yield as his share. Soon after the harvesting season, hundreds of enormous camel carts with gunny bags full of wheat, mustard seeds, and rice can be seen on rural roads. At the same time, businesspersons from towns bring steel cabinets, agricultural utensils, and clothes to farmers’ doorsteps.

During the fish spawning season, Pallas (local salmon or Shrine) swim upstream of the mighty Indus River. But they can only swim up to the Kotri Barrage (dam) at Jamshoro, about 125km upstream from the sea. There is no fish ladder at the barrage. Thousands of fish get trapped at the barrage, and fishermen catch them in hundreds. Fish sellers clean Pallas on the road, and a kilogram of salt was rubbed inside each fish and then wrapped in several old newspapers. Intercity truck drivers bought the fish in bulk. They transported them to Punjab and North-Western Frontier Provinces with a lucrative profit margin.

In April, the news of the arrival of the annual World Bank mission excited the SDSC staff. The staff got busy writing project reports, printing them, organizing field visits, and arranging meetings with high-level government officials in Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad. My presence at SDSC generated some sense of relief among the staff. They expected me to write most of the reports and their executive summaries for the mission, which I gladly did.

The lunch and dinner menus at Jamshoro guesthouses, where most mission members stayed, changed overnight from chapati, lentil curry, and fried chicken to soups, boiled vegetables, steak, egg salads, and fried fish. The Bangladeshi cook at the main guesthouse collected money in advance from visitors for food and often tried to cheat them. Once, he returned from the grocery shop and complained that he had lost his wallet and all his money. The mission members gave him more money and helped him to overcome his anguish.

The final mission sessions were held in Islamabad and Lahore. Such meetings were often a disaster for the SDSC. Mission members criticized incomplete project reports, poor work progress, and rampant corruption at the project level. In 1994, the mission requested the change of the Director of SDSC. The State government agreed. The SDSC staff were happy because the new Director was a popular university professor. The ex-director thought I had masterminded the change and threatened that Sindh would not be a safe place for me anymore. He told the mission that local staff could do socio-economic surveys and social studies without any help from “outsiders”. The mission did not agree and extended my appointment by one more year.

Soon after the 1994 annual meeting, I went to Karachi to meet the State Secretary for Irrigation. Two SDSC colleagues joined me. We arrived at the Secretariat, and my two colleagues took the Jeep to collect their air tickets from a travel agent. My meeting with the secretary continued for two hours. I waited in his office for the Land Cruiser to return. Purbhan, my driver, returned to the Secretariat without the vehicle. His head was bleeding, and he looked severely shaken.

Purbhan had taken my two colleagues to the travel agent. He waited for them on the roadside while listening to a cricket match commentary on the radio. He forgot to lock the jeep doors. Two young men got into the vehicle from the front two doors; one pointed a handgun at Purbhan and told him to drive. After driving several kilometres, one of them hit him on the head with the gun butt, gave him twenty rupees, pushed him out of the vehicle, and drove away. The Police never found the Land Cruiser. Usually, robbers take stolen vehicles to Baluchistan. They repaint them with a different colour and change the chassis and engine numbers. Robbers hand over such stolen vehicles to politicians for a year or two to avoid police investigations.

My Land Cruiser had comprehensive insurance coverage from a leading bank in Karachi. When I reported the loss of the Land Cruiser to the bank, the clerk at the front desk told me that it had never been insured with the bank and that the insurance certificate I held was a fake document. Only then did I find out that the accountant had pocketed the money and given me a bogus insurance certificate. The World Bank blamed me for losing the Land Cruiser and not verifying the authenticity of the insurance certificate.

Parvez and I continued our field research in remote villages despite the threat of being kidnapped. We stayed at Zamindars’ houses during fieldwork. The houses were big and fenced with dry, thorny bushes to keep animals away. Large, open verandahs provided shade from the nasty sun and protection from fast-blowing dry winds that stirred fine dust. Lying on large wooden beds and cots with cotton mattresses, adults leisurely sipped hot tea or water. There was no hurry to do anything; things had to wait for a suitable time – it could be today, tonight, tomorrow or never!

All News Advertisement

Features

High govt. revenue and low foreign exchange reserves High foreign exchange reserves and low govt. revenue!

Published

17 hours ago

2025/03/21

Thilina Walpola

First shipment of vehicles imported to Sir Lank after the lifting the ban on automobile imports

Government has permitted, after several years, the import of motor cars. Imports, including cars, were cut off because the government then wisely prioritised importing other commodities vital to the everyday life of the general public. It is fair to expect that some pent-up demand for motor vehicles has developed. But at what prices? Government seems to have expected that consumers would pay much higher prices than had prevailed earlier.

The rupee price of foreign exchange had risen by about half from Rs.200 per US$ to Rs.300. In those years, the cost of production of cars also had risen. The government dearly wanted more revenue to meet increasing government expenditure. Usually, motor cars are bought by those with higher incomes or larger amounts of wealth. Taxes on the purchase of cars probably promote equity in the distribution of incomes. The collection of tax on motor cars is convenient. What better commodity to tax?

The announced price of a Toyota Camry is about Rs.34 million. Among us, a Camry is usually bought by those with a substantially higher income than the average middle-income earner. It is not a luxury car like a Mercedes Benz 500/ BMW 700i. Yes, there are some Ferrari drivers. When converted into US dollars, the market price of a Camry 2025 in Sri Lankan amounts to about $110,000. The market price of a Camry in US is about $34,000, where it is usually bought by income earners in the middle-middle class: typically assistant professors in state universities or young executives. Who in Lanka will buy a Camry at Rs.34 million or $110,000 a piece?

How did Treasury experts expect high revenue from the import of motor cars? The price of a Toyota Camry in US markets is about $34,000. GDP per person, a rough measure of income per person in US, was about $ 88,000 in 2024. That mythical ‘average person’ in US in 2024, could spend about 2.5 month’s income and buy a Toyota Camry. Income per person, in Lanka in 2024, was about $ 4,000. The market price of a Camry in Lanka is about $ 133,000. A person in Lanka must pay 33 years of annual income to buy a Toyota Camry in 2025.

Whoever imagined that with those incomes and prices, there would be any sales of Camry in Lanka? After making necessary adjustments (mutatis mutandis), Toyota Camry’s example applies to all import dues increases. Higher import duties will yield some additional revenue to government. How much they will yield cannot be answered without much more work. High import duties will deter people from buying imported goods. There will be no large drawdown of foreign exchange; nor will there be additional government revenue: result, high government foreign exchange reserves and low government revenue.

For people to buy cars at such higher prices in 2025, their incomes must rise substantially (unlikely) or they must shift their preferences for motor cars and drop their demand for other goods and services. There is no reason to believe that any of those changes have taken place. In the 2025 budget, government has an ambitious programme of expenditure. For government to implement that programme, they need high government revenue. If the high rates of duties on imports do not yield higher government revenue as hypothesised earlier, government must borrow in the domestic market. The economy is not worthy of raising funds in international capital markets yet.

If government sells large amounts of bonds, the price of all bonds will fall, i.e. interest rates will rise, with two consequences. First, expenditure on interest payments by government will rise for which they would need more revenue. Second, high interest rates may send money to banks rather than to industry. Finding out how these complexities will work out needs careful, methodically satisfactory work. It is probable that if government borrows heavily to pay for budgetary allocations, the fundamental problem arising out of heavy public debt will not be solved.

The congratulatory comments made by the Manager of IMF applied to the recent limited exercise of handling the severity of balance of payments and public debt problems. The fundamental problem of paying back debt can be solved only when the economy grows fast enough (perhaps 7.5 % annually) for several years. Of that growth, perhaps, half (say 4 % points) need to be paid back for many years to reduce the burden of external debt.

Domestic use of additional resources can increase annually by no more than 3.5 percent, even if the economy grows at 7.5 percent per year. Leaders in society, including scholars in the JJB government, university teachers and others must highlight the problems and seek solutions therefor, rather than repeat over and over again accounts of the problem itself.

Growth must not only be fast and sustained but also exports heavy. The reasoning is as follows. This economy is highly import-dependent. One percent growth in the economy required 0.31% percent increase in imports in 2012 and 0. 21 percent increase in 2024. The scarcity of imports cut down the rate of growth of the economy in 2024. Total GDP will not catch up with what it was in (say) 2017, until the ratio of imports to GDP rises above 30 percent.

The availability of imports is a binding constraint on the rate of growth of the economy. An economy that is free to grow will require much more imports (not only cement and structural steel but also intermediate imports of many kinds). I guess that the required ratio will exceed 35 percent. Import capacity is determined by the value of exports reduced by debt repayments to the rest of the world. The most important structural change in the economy is producing exports to provide adequate import capacity. (The constant chatter by IMF and the Treasury officials about another kind of structural change confuses the issue.) An annual 7.5 percent growth in the economy requires import capacity to grow by about 2.6 percent annually.

This economy needs, besides, resources to pay back accumulated foreign debt. If servicing that accumulation requires, takes 4% points of GDP, import capacity needs to grow by (about) 6.6 percent per year, for many years. Import capacity is created when the economy exports to earn foreign exchange and when persons working overseas remit substantial parts of their earnings to persons in Lanka. Both tourism and remittances from overseas have begun to grow robustly. They must continue to flow in persistently.

There are darkening clouds raised by fires in prominent markets for exports from all countries including those poor. This is a form of race to the bottom, which a prominent economist once called ‘a policy to beggar thy neighbour (even across the wide Pacific)’. Unlike the thirty years from 1995, the next 30 years now seem fraught with much danger to processes of growth aided by open international trade. East Asian economies grew phenomenally by selling in booming rich markets, using technology developed in rich countries.

Lanka weighed down with 2,500 years of high culture ignored that reality. The United States of America now is swinging with might and main a wrecking ball to destroy that structure which they had put up, one thought foolishly, with conviction. Among those storms, many container ships would rather be put to port than brave choppy seas. High rates of growth in export earnings seem a bleak prospect. There yet may be some room in the massive economies of China and India.

Consequently, it is fanciful to expect that living conditions will improve rapidly, beginning with the implementation of the 2025 budget. It will be a major achievement if the 2025 budget is fully implemented, as I have argued earlier. Remarkable efforts to cut down on extravagance, waste and the plunder of public funds will help, somewhat; but not enough. IMF or not, there is no way of paying back accumulated debt without running an export surplus sufficient to service debt obligations.

Exports are necessary to permit the economy to pay off accumulated debt and permit some increase in the standard of living. Austerity will be the order of the day for many years to come. It is most unlikely that the next five years will usher in prosperity.

By Usvatte-aratchi

Features

BLOSSOMS OF HOPE 2025

Published

17 hours ago

2025/03/21

Thilina Walpola

An Ikebana exhibition in aid of pediatric cancer patients

This Ikebana exhibition by the members of Ikebana International Sri Lanka Chapter #262, brings this ancient art form to life in support of a deeply meaningful cause: aiding the Pediatric Cancer ward of the Apeksha Cancer Hospital, Maharagama and offering hope to young warriors in their fight against illness.

Graceful, delicate, and filled with meaning—Ikebana, the Japanese art of floral arrangement, is more than just an expression of beauty; it is a reflection of life’s resilience and harmony. “Blossoms of Hope”, is a special Ikebana exhibition, on 29th March from 11a.m. to 7p.m. and 30th March from 10a.m. to 6p.m. at the Ivy Room, Cinnamon Grand Hotel and demonstrations will be from 4p.m. to 5p.m. on both days.

Each floral arrangement in this exhibition is a tribute to strength, renewal, and love. Carefully crafted by skilled Ikebana artists, who are members of the Chapter. These breathtaking displays symbolize the courage of children battling cancer, reminding us that even in adversity, beauty can bloom. The graceful lines, vibrant hues, and thoughtful compositions of Ikebana echo the journey of resilience, inspiring both reflection and compassion.

Visitors will not only experience the tranquility and elegance of Japanese floral art but will also have the opportunity to make a difference. Proceeds from “Blossoms of Hope” will go towards enhancing medical care, providing essential resources, and creating a more comforting environment for young patients and their families.

This exhibition is more than an artistic showcase—it is a gesture of kindness, a symbol of solidarity, and a reminder that hope, like a flower, can grow even in the most unexpected places. By attending and supporting “Blossoms of Hope”, you become a part of this journey, helping to bring light and joy into the lives of children who need it most.

Join in celebrating art, compassion, and the Power of Hope—one flower at a time.

Features

St. Anthony’s Church feast at Kachchativu island

Published

17 hours ago

2025/03/21

Thilina Walpola

Fort Hammenhiel

The famous St. Anthony’s Church feast this year was held on 14 and 15 March. St. Anthony, as per Catholic belief, gives protection and looks after fishermen and seafarers like me. Many Buddhist seafarers are believers in St. Anthony and they usually keep a statue of the saint in their cabins in the ship or craft.

St. Anthony died on 13th June 1231 at age of 35 years, at Padua in Holy Roman Empire and was canonized on 30 May 1232 by Pope Gregory IX.

I was unable to attend last year’s feast as I was away in Pakistan as Sri Lanka’s High Commissioner. I was more than happy to learn that Indians were also attending the feast this year and there would be 4,000 devotees.

I decided to travel to Kankesanturai (KKS) Jaffna by train and stay at my usual resting place, Fort Hammenhiel Resort, a Navy-run boutique hotel, which was once a prison, where JVP leaders, including Rohana Wijeweera were held during the 1971 insurrection. I was fortunate to turn this fort on a tiny islet in Kytes lagoon into a four-star boutique hotel and preserve Wijeweera’s handwriting in 2012, when I was the Commander Northern Naval Area.

I invite you to visit Fort Hammenhiel during your next trip to Jaffna and see Wijeweera’s handwriting.

The train left Colombo Fort Railway Station on time (0530 hrs/14th) and reached KKS at 1410 hrs. I was highly impressed with the cleanliness and quality of railway compartments and toilets. When I sent a photograph of my railway compartment to my son, he texted me asking “Dad, are you in an aircraft or in a train compartment? “

Well done Sri Lanka Railways! Please keep up your good work. No wonder foreign tourists love train rides, including the famous Ella Odyssey.

Travelling on board a train is comfortable, relaxed and stress free! As a frequent traveller on A 9 road to Jaffna, which is stressful due to oncoming heavy vehicles on. This was a new experience and I enjoyed the ride, sitting comfortably and reading a book received from my friend in New York- Senaka Senaviratne—’Hillbilly Elegy’ by US Vice President JD Vance. The book is an international best seller.

My buddy, Commodore (E) Dissanayake (Dissa), a brilliant engineer who built Reverse Osmosis Water Purification Plants for North, North Central and North Western provinces to help prevent chronic kidney disease is the Commodore Superintendent Engineering in the Northern Naval Area. He was waiting at the KKS railway station to receive me.

I enjoyed a cup of tea at Dissa’s chalet at our Northern Naval Command Headquarters in KKS and proceeded to Fort Hammenhiel at Karainagar, a 35-minute drive from KKS.

The acting Commanding Officer of Karainagar Naval Base (SLNS ELARA) Commander Jayawardena (Jaye) was there at Fort Hammenhiel Restaurant to have late lunch with me.

Jaye was a cadet at Naval and Maritime Academy, (NMA) Trincomalee, when I was Commandant in 2006, NMA was under artillery fire from LTTE twice, when those officers were cadets and until we destroyed enemy gun positions, and the army occupied Sampoor south of the Trincomalee harbour. I feel very proud of Jaye, who is a Commander now (equal to Army rank Lieutenant Colonel) and Commanding a very important Naval Base in Jaffna.

The present Navy Commander Vice Admiral Kanchana Banagoda had been in SLNS ELARA a few hours before me and he had left for the Delft Island on an inspection tour.

Commander Jaye was very happy because his Divisional Officer, when he was a cadet, was Vice Admiral Kanchana (then Lieutenant Commander). I had lunch and rested for a few hours before leaving Karainagar in an Inshore Patrol Craft heading to Kachchativu Island by1730 hrs.

The sea was very calm due to inter-monsoon weather and we reached Kachchativu Island by 1845 hrs. Devotees from both Sri Lanka and India had already reached the island. The Catholic Bishop of Sivagangai Diocese, Tamil Nadu India His Eminence Lourdu Anandam and Vicar General of Jaffna Diocese Very Rev Fr. PJ Jabaratnam were already there in Kachchativu together with more than 100 priests and nuns from Sri Lanka and India. It was a solid display of brotherhood of two neighbouring nations united together at this tiny island to worship God. They were joined by 8,000 devotees, with 4,000 from each country).

The church

All logistics—food, fresh water, medical facilities—were provided by the Sri Lanka Navy. Now, this festival has become a major annual amphibious operation for Navy’s Landing Craft fleet, led by SLNS Shakthi (Landing Ship tanks). The Navy establishes a temporary base in a remote island which does not have a drop of drinking water, and provides food and water to 8,000 persons. The event is planned and executed commendably well under Commander Northern Naval Area, Rear Admiral Thusara Karunathilake. The Sri Lankan government allocates Rs 30 million from the annual national budget for this festival, which is now considered a national religious festival.

The Indian devotees enjoy food provided by SLN. They have the highest regard for our Navy. The local devotees are from the Jaffna Diocese, mainly from the Delft Island and helped SLN. Delft Pradeshiya Sabha and AGA Delft Island. A very efficient lady supervised all administrative functions on the Island. Sri Lanka Police established a temporary police station with both male and female officers.

As usual, the Sinhalese devotees came from Negombo, Chilaw, Kurunegala and other areas, bringing food enough for them and their Catholic brothers and sisters from India! Children brought biscuits, milk toffee, kalu dodol and cakes to share with Indian and Jaffna devotees.

In his sermon on 22nd December 2016, when he declared open the new Church built by SLN from financial contributions from Navy officers and sailors, Jaffna Bishop Rt Rev Dr Justin Bernard Ganapragasam said that day “the new Church would be the Church of Reconciliation”.

The church was magnificent at night. Sitting on the beach and looking at the beautiful moon-lit sea, light breeze coming from the North East direction and listening to beautiful hymns sung by devotees praising Saint Anthony, I thanked God and remembered all my friends who patrolled those seas and were no more with us. Their dedication, and bravery out at sea brought lasting peace to our beloved country. But today WHO REMEMBERS THEM?

The rituals continued until midnight. Navy Commander and the Indian Consul General in Jaffna Sai Murali attended the Main Mass.

The following morning (15) the Main Mass was attended by Vice Admiral Kanchana Banagoda and his family. It was a great gesture by the Navy Commander to attend the feast with his family. I had a long discussion with Indian Consul General Jaffna Sai Mulari about frequent incidents of Indian trawlers engaging in bottom trawling in Sri Lankan waters and what we should do as diplomats to bring a lasting solution to this issue, as I was highly impressed with this young Indian diplomat.

The Vicar General of the Jaffna Diocese, my dear friend, Very Rev Father P J Jabarathnam also made an open appeal to all Indian and Sri Lankan fishermen to protect the environment. I was fortunate to attend yet another St. Anthony’s Church feast in Kachchativu.

By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne WV,

RWP& Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn,
Bsc (Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defense Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan