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Into the Unknown – from Scotland to the Central Hill of Ceylon: the Story of the Early Planters

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Today, May 2, 2021 marks the 129th death anniversary of James Taylor, the Scotsman popularly known as the father of tea in Sri Lanka. Hailing from Kincardineshire in Scotland, Taylor arrived on the island of Ceylon as a 17-years old youth to take up coffee planting and settled in the Loolecondera (Loolkandura) Estate in Galaha, Hewaheta. Taylor pioneered the growing of tea in the ailing coffee plantations. His achievements in growing and processing tea were the beginning of a lucrative industry.

The result was an unimaginable, impressive transformation of the landscape of the hill country. Two years after arriving on the island, Taylor wrote to an acquaintance in Scotland and said that those were the most uncomfortable two years of his life. What sort of life these pioneer youngsters endured! The following notes are on the harrowing life experiences of those pioneers that ventured into the unknown with little or no thoughts of whether their pioneering efforts would ever lead to a profitable industry that would change the lives of a nation.

The credit for introducing coffee to India and Ceylon goes to Arab traders. Following its introduction to the island, the coffee plant grew almost wild in home gardens, its snow-white flowers giving an exquisite fragrance to the surrounding area.

The Portuguese, in the maritime areas of the island, concentrated their attention on cinnamon. Coffee was not on their agenda. The Dutch, nevertheless, had ideas of cultivating coffee besides cinnamon and spices but hardly had the expertise. Their first attempt was to plant coffee in the southwestern part of the island in Baddegama area around the Ginganga basin. The soil conditions were unsuitable. Soon sugar cane and later coconut replaced the crop.

The British thought that coffee was growing wild in the Kandyan hills. They surmised that the climate was ideal for commercial cultivation. Pristine tropical forest-clad Kandyan hills were now called crown land. New entrepreneurs bought these lands that flocked to grab the virgin mountains and valleys. These lands were cheap, some going as cheap as five shillings per acre. Within a short period, the rate went up to reach one pound per acre. The expanding empire required large numbers of young and energetic English people. Coffee planting in Ceylon attracted the adventurous young, prepared to face the unknown future many miles away from their homes. Scots were the most prolific adventurers to arrive in Ceylon. Large numbers were from and around Aberdeen. Many were from the same village or the adjoining districts and were often related. Word of mouth spread far and wide. The British trading ships brought young, iron-hearted men to Galle and Colombo. At first, those who grabbed the opportunity of acquiring crown land were the military and the British administrative officers stationed in Colombo. The Ceylon coffee boom started in 1825. It has been compared to the gold rush in California and Australia around about the same period.

A typical story of a coffee prospector described by John Weatherstone is as follows. A proprietor would hire a newly arrived young Scot as superintendent and a few coolies in Colombo. They will start collecting planting utensils, knives, machetes, mammoties, ropes, lamp oil, candles, and boxes of matches in addition to large quantities of rice and other foodstuffs. The most important purchase of the young recruit would be some coffee seeds for the nursery. Setting up a nursery was the first task to be started almost immediately on reaching the designated land. Their journey to Kandy would now take only a day or two by bullock cart and walking, compared to their compatriot military men.

On reaching Kandy, the group would relax for a day or two while buying little things that would come in handy and to replenish the larder. They also acquired a rudimentary first aid box. They would then move on horseback and on foot to the hills, where a surveyor would show the owner his designated land. Surveying was a lucrative profession and was often almost impossible to carry on due to impassable mountainous terrain and colossal trees that would interfere with the ‘sight lines’. Some of the surveys were way off when scrutinized years later.

The proprietor would return to Colombo after handing over the estate to the young pioneer. Thus the young man, uninitiated (often in his late teens), was left in the unknown, unfamiliar tropical mountain forest. While sheltering in a makeshift primitive talipot palm leaf-covered hut, the recruit would get a patch of land cleared for the nursery. This chore was the first task, and the massive effort towards clearing the virgin jungle came next. By the time land was cleared, maybe 50 – 100 acres, it was hoped, the coffee plants in the nursery would have grown to a size suitable for transplanting.

Clearing of virgin forests accelerated to a new level as the coffee prospectors pushed their way through Pussellawa and then to the Kotmale valley and the hills up the Ramboda area. Jungle clearing was the domain of the Sinhalese. John Capper left a dramatic account of jungle felling while visiting a coffee plantation in the hills above Kandy. About 40 ax-men took part in the chore. Small and medium-sized trees were selected to be axed first, leaving small stumps still keeping the trunks up. The large trees above would receive the axe similarly. A conch shell signal dispersed the crowd of noisy ax-men below, leaving those who managed the large trees above. The next conch shell signal alerted those above manning the large trees to sever the bit of trunk that kept the tree upright. With a thunderous noise, the colossal trees with their spreading branches landed on the smaller trees which succumbed to the same fate. Complete clearing the ground was not essential for coffee. Elephants were often used to clear the area, and what is left was burnt.

One of the earliest coffee planters of Ceylon was George Bird (son changed the spelling of the name to Byrde), known as the father of coffee in Ceylon. He started the first coffee estate in 1821, close to Gampola in Sinhapitiya. Sir Edward Barnes, the Governor, was so impressed with this pioneer tropical agriculturist he awarded Bird a tax-free loan of 4000 Rx dollars to start a much bigger venture. He was the first planter to employ the first consignment of Indian labor to work the coffee estates of Ceylon.

Without the gang of Indian coolies the survival of the early coffee and tea planters would have been impossible. According to John Weatherstone, the whole plantation industry benefited, so did the country. Without the Indian coolies the estates also could never have been worked. Many of the brave pioneers that pushed their way through the hostile, unfamiliar tropical rain forests were soon replaced by a new breed of coffee prospectors when officers of the British India Company and many with their capital started arriving on the island. ‘King Coffee’ of Ceylon reached its climax in 1854. Calamitously the coffee prices fell in 1847. This phenomenon led some of the original coffee prospectors to bankruptcy. Large tracts of coffee were abandoned and allowed to turn into scrublands. Fortunately, coffee was not doomed. Coffee prices gradually started to take off, and soon Ceylon coffee regained its kingship. Twenty-odd years later, around 1867, the coffee rust (Hamileia vastatrix) appeared among the plantations that slowly pushed the entire coffee industry to the bottom, never to raise its head again. The enterprising planters soon took over the new craze of replacing coffee plantations with tea boosted by the pioneers such as James Taylor of Loolcondera (Loolkandura) Estate. People used to say that the re-planting of tea was on the graveyard of old coffee estates of Ceylon. By the 1900s, there were more than half a million Indian coolies working in the plantation sectors. They arrived from south India as ‘unberthed’ paying deck passengers in British India Steam Navigation Company vessels. Their trek to the hills was by foot and, many succumbed without ever reaching their destinations.

The talipot palm-leaved shacks were gone. Estate bungalows with granite walls, wood-burning fireplaces, and chimneys, typically English, estate-bungalows came to be. Generally, an estate-bungalow was run by the ‘Appu’ who was the cook and the caretaker. A ‘boy’ would see to the comforts of the master acting as a valet. The garden and the vegetable plot would be in charge of a coolie who was non-resident. There would be a cowshed, a poultry run, and a stable for the horses. The ‘Master Sir’ was the lord of the estate. It was a lonely job. So young and yearning for company, the Master-Sir had to endure untold hardships.

Nevertheless, the early planters took great pains to continue the English way of living despite being almost isolated in their estate bungalows. The great naturalist and marine biologist Ernest Haeckel, while traveling through the plantations, was hosted by a planter who insisted that he appear for dinner in a black jacket and white tie! Of course, Haeckel did not have such formal attire in his traveling kit. But at dinner, his host was formally dressed while the lady wore a formal dinner gown.

John Weatherstone refers to J. P. Lewis’s note on the tragic death of a young planter of Nillambe, Mr. E.A. Morgan. He was riding back from Kandy with cash to pay his coolies. A Sinhalese emptied both barrels of his shotgun that struck the young planter squarely and the assailant made away with the money. The stricken-planter who was not dismounted, made his way to the estate but succumbed to his injury the same evening.

Dysentery, jungle fever (malaria) and, other tropical diseases were rampant. Many succumbed while still being in the prime of their lives. Many were cared for by their staff and friends. A number of them were taken to hotels or boarding houses in Kandy. Many of them died, away from their loved ones, unlamented and unsung in an alien land. There have been instances where the close kinship between the master, appu, and the boy broke. Weatherstone records the curious murders of two young planters by their appus.

The nearest English or Scottish neighbor being 12 to 15 miles away, the early young planters were suffering from isolation. The feminine company being almost non-existent, almost all took Tamil or Sinhalese girls as concubines. James Taylor had a Tamil concubine. At the time of his demise, there was a grieving Sinhala woman.

In a scenario when all creature comforts of good living are at the touch of a button, it is not easy to imagine the hardships those early planters endured. A recent drive up to the Nagrak Bungalow of Nonpareil estate in Belihuloya along a narrow track made us gaze in awe at the marvel these young pioneers had engineered. The passage involves thirty-three sharp hairpin bends. While driving up this crumbling track, we left our lives in the hands of our expert drivers.

What tremendous effort would have gone in the planning and executing this zigzagging track close up to the Horton Plains? No wonder that this mountain track is called ‘Devil’s Staircase’. Sri Lanka reaped the benefits of tea, boosting our island economy, for more than a 150 years. We are indeed indebted to the pioneer, young brave-hearts who paved the way.

A tremendous transformation took place in the tea industry of Sri Lanka since James Taylor’s time. The following statistic exemplifies this statement. The first-ever export of tea to London was a mere 23 pounds (by James Taylor) compared to the 278.5 million kilograms exported in 2020 despite the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. On the 129th death anniversary of the ‘Father of Tea’ let us spend a moment remembering this 17-year old Scot who never returned to Scotland but spent the next 40 years in the central hills of our resplendent island.



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Wishes, Resolutions and Climate Change

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Exchanging greetings and resolving to do something positive in the coming year certainly create an uplifting atmosphere. Unfortunately, their effects wear off within the first couple of weeks, and most of the resolutions are forgotten for good. However, this time around, we must be different, because the nation is coming out of the most devastating natural disaster ever faced, the results of which will impact everyone for many years to come. Let us wish that we as a nation will have the courage and wisdom to resolve to do the right things that will make a difference in our lives now and prepare for the future. The truth is that future is going to be challenging for tropical islands like ours.

We must not have any doubts about global warming phenomenon and its impact on local weather patterns. Over its 4.5-billion-year history, the earth has experienced drastic climate changes, but it has settled into a somewhat moderate condition characterised by periods of glaciation and retreat over the last million years. Note that anatomically modern Homo sapiens have been around only for two to three hundred thousand years, and it is reasoned that this stable climate may have helped their civilisation. There have been five glaciation periods over the last five hundred thousand years, and these roughly hundred-thousand-year cycles are explained by the astronomical phenomenon known as the Milankovitch Cycle (the lows marked with stars in Figure 1). At present, the earth is in an inter glacial period and the next glaciation period will be in about eighty thousand years.

(See Figure 1. Glaciation Cycles)

During these cycles, the global mean temperature has changed by about 7-8 degrees Centigrade. In contrast to this natural variation, earth has been experiencing a rapid temperature increase over the past hundred years. There is ample scientific evidence from multiple sources that this is caused by the increase in carbon dioxide gas in the atmosphere, which has seen a 50% increase over the historical levels in just hundred years (Figure 2). Carbon dioxide is one of the greenhouse gases which traps heat from the sun and slows the natural cooling process of the earth. This increase of carbon dioxide is due to human activities: fossil fuel burning, industrial processes, deforestation, and agricultural practices. Ironically, those who suffer from the consequences did not contribute to these changes; those who did contribute are trying their best to convince the world that the temperature changes we see are natural, and nothing should be done. We must have no illusions that global warming is a human-caused phenomenon, and it has serious repercussions.

(See Figure 2. Global Temperature and Carbon Dioxide Levels)

Why should we care about global warming? Well, there are many reasons, but let us focus on earth’s water cycle. Middle schoolers know that water evaporates from the oceans, rises into the atmosphere where it cools, condenses, and falls back onto earth as rain or snow. When the oceans warm, the evaporation increases, and the warmer atmosphere can hold more water vapour. Water laden atmosphere results in severe and erratic weather. Ironically, water vapour is also a greenhouse gas, and this has a snowballing effect. The increased ocean temperature also disrupts ocean currents that influence the weather on land. The combined result is extreme and severe weather: violent storms and droughts depending on the geographic location. What is happening on the West coast of the USA is an example. The net result will be major departures from what is considered normal weather over millennia.

International organisations have been talking for 30 years about limiting global temperature increase to 1.5oC above pre-industrial levels by curtailing greenhouse gas emissions. But not much has been done and the temperature has risen by 1.2oC already. The challenge is that even if we can stop greenhouse gas emissions completely, right now, we have the problem of removing already existing 2,500 billion tons of carbon from the atmosphere, for which there are no practical solutions yet. Scientists worry about the consequences of runaway temperature increase and its effect on human life, which are many. It is not a doomsday prediction of life disappearing from earth, but a warning that life will be quite different from what humans are used to. All small tropical nations like ours are burdened with mitigating the consequences; in other words, get ready for more Ditwahs, do not wait for the twelve-day forecast.

Some opined that not enough warning was given regarding Ditwah; the truth is that the tools available for long-term prediction of the path or severity of a weather event (cyclone, typhoon, hurricane, tornado) are not perfect. There are multitude of rapidly changing factors contributing to the behavior of weather events. Meteorologists feed most up to date data to different computer models and try to identify the prediction with the highest probability. The multiple predictions for the same weather event are represented by what is known as spaghetti plots. Figure 3 shows the forecasted paths of a 2019 Atlantic hurricane five days ahead on the right and the actual path it followed on the left. While the long-term prediction of the path of a cyclone remains less accurate, its strength can vary within hours. There are several Indian ocean cyclones tracking sites online accessible to the public.

Figure 3. Forecasting vs Reality

There is no argument that short-term forecasts of this nature are valuable in saving lives and movable assets, but having long term plans in place to mitigate the effects of natural disasters is much more important than that. If a sizable section of the population must start over their lives from ground zero after every storm, how can a country economically develop?

The degree of our unpreparedness came to light during Ditwah disaster. It is not for lack of awareness; judging by the deluge of newspaper articles, blogs, vlogs, and speeches made, there is no shortage of knowledge and technical expertise to meet the challenge. The government has assured the necessary resources, and there is good reason to trust that the funds will be spent properly and not to line the pockets as happened during previous disasters. However, history tells us that despite the right conditions and good intentions, we could miss the opportunity again. Reasons for such skepticisms emerged during the few meetings the President held with the bureaucrats while visiting effected areas. Also, the COPE committee meetings plainly display the inherent inefficiencies and irregularities of our system and the absence of work ethics among all levels of the bureaucracy.

What it tells us is that we as a nation have an attitude problem. There are ample scholarly analyses by local as well as international researchers on this aspect of Sri Lankan psyche, and they label it as either island or colonial mentality. The first refers to the notion of isolated communities perceiving themselves as exceptional or superior to the rest of the world, and that the world is hell-bent on destroying or acquiring what they have. This attitude is exacerbated by the colonial mentality that promoted the divide and conquer rules and applied it to every societal characteristic imaginable; and plundered natural resources. As a result, now we are divided along ethnic, linguistic, religious, political, class, caste, geography, wealth, and many more real and imagined lines. Sadly, politicians, some religious leaders, and other opportunists keep inflaming these sentiments for their benefit when most of the population is willing to move on.

The first wish, therefore, is to get the strength, courage, and wisdom to think rationally, and discard outdated and outmoded belief systems that hinder our progress as a nation. May we get the courage to stop venerating elite who got there by exploiting the masses and the country’s wealth. More importantly, may we get the wisdom to educate the next generation to be free thinkers, give them the power and freedom to reject fabrications, myths, and beliefs that are not based on objective facts.

This necessitates altering our attitude towards many aspects of life. There is no doubt that free thinking does not come easily, it involves the proverbial ‘exterminating the consecrated bull.’ We are rightfully proud about our resplendent past. It is true that hydraulic engineering, art, and architecture flourished during the Anuradhapura period.

However, for one reason or another, we have lost those skills. Nowadays, all irrigation projects are done with foreign aid and assistance. The numerous replicas of the Avukana statue made with the help of modern technology, for example, cannot hold a candle to the real one. The fabled flying machine of Ravana is a figment of marvelous imagination of a skilled poet. Reality is that today we are a nation struggling with both natural and human-caused disasters, and dependent on the generosity of other nations, especially our gracious neighbor. Past glory is of little help in solving today’s problems.

Next comes national unity. Our society is so fragmented that no matter how beneficial a policy or an idea for the nation could be, some factions will oppose it, not based on facts, but by giving into propaganda created for selfish purposes. The island mentality is so pervasive, we fail to trust and respect fellow citizens, not to mention the government. The result is absence of long-term planning and stability. May we get the insight to separate policy from politics; to put nation first instead of our own little clan, or personal gains.

With increasing population and decreasing livable and arable land area, a national land management system becomes crucial. We must have an intelligent zoning system to prevent uncontrolled development. Should we allow building along waterways, on wetlands, and road easements? Should we not put the burden of risk on the risk takers using an insurance system instead of perpetual public aid programs? We have lost over 95% of the forest cover we had before European occupation. Forests function as water reservoirs that release rainwater gradually while reducing soil erosion and stabilizing land, unlike monocultures covering the hill country, the catchments of many rivers. Should we continue to allow uncontrolled encroachment of forests for tourism, religious, or industrial purposes, not to mention personal enjoyment of the elite? Is our use of land for agricultural purposes in keeping with changing global markets and local labor demands? Is haphazard subsistence farming viable? What would be the impact of sea level rising on waterways in low lying areas?

These are only a few aspects that future generations will have to grapple with in mitigating the consequences of worsening climate conditions. We cannot ignore the fact that weather patterns will be erratic and severe, and that will be the new normal. Survival under such conditions involves rational thinking, objective fact based planning, and systematic execution with long term nation interests in mind. That cannot be achieved with hanging onto outdated and outmoded beliefs, rituals, and traditions. Weather changes are not caused by divine interventions or planetary alignments as claimed by astrologers. Let us resolve to lay the foundation for bringing up the next generation that is capable of rational thinking and be different from their predecessors, in a better way.

by Geewananda Gunawardana

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From Diyabariya to Duberria: Lanka’s Forgotten Footprint in Global Science

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Snakes and their name origins in Sinhala

For centuries, Sri Lanka’s biological knowledge travelled the world — anonymously. Embedded deep within the pages of European natural history books, Sinhala words were copied, distorted and repurposed, eventually fossilising into Latinised scientific names of snakes, bats and crops found thousands of kilometres away.

Africa’s reptiles, Europe’s taxonomic catalogues and global field guides still carry those echoes, largely unnoticed and uncredited.

Now, a Sri Lankan herpetologist is tracing those forgotten linguistic footprints back to their source.

Through painstaking archival research into 17th- and 18th-century zoological texts, herpetologist and taxonomic researcher Sanjaya Bandara has uncovered compelling evidence that several globally recognised scientific names — long assumed to be derived from Greek or Latin — are in fact rooted in Sinhala vernacular terms used by villagers, farmers and hunters in pre-colonial Sri Lanka.

“Scientific names are not just labels. They are stories,” Bandara told The Island. “And in many cases, those stories begin right here in Sri Lanka.”

Sanjaya Bandara

At the heart of Bandara’s work is etymology — the study of word origins — a field that plays a crucial role in zoology and taxonomy.

While classical languages dominate scientific nomenclature, his findings reveal that Sinhala words were quietly embedded in the foundations of modern biological classification as early as the 1700s.

One of the most striking examples is Ahaetulla, the genus name for Asian vine snakes. “The word Ahaetulla is not Greek or Latin at all,” Bandara explained. “It comes directly from the Sinhala vernacular used by locals for the Green Vine Snake.” Remarkably, the term was adopted by Carl Linnaeus himself, the father of modern taxonomy.

Another example lies in the vespertilionid bat genus Kerivoula, described by British zoologist John Edward Gray. Bandara notes that the name is a combination of the Sinhala words kiri (milky) and voula (bat). Even the scientific name of finger millet, Eleusine coracana, carries linguistic traces of the Sinhala word kurakkan, a cereal cultivated in Sri Lanka for centuries.

Yet Bandara’s most intriguing discoveries extend far beyond the island — all the way to Africa and the Mediterranean.

In a research paper recently published in the journal Bionomina, Bandara presented evidence that two well-known snake genera, Duberria and Malpolon, both described in 1826 by Austrian zoologist Leopold Fitzinger, likely originated from Sinhala words.

The name Duberria first appeared in Robert Knox’s 1681 account of Ceylon, where Knox refers to harmless water snakes called “Duberria” by locals. According to Bandara, this was a mispronunciation of Diyabariya, the Sinhala term for water snakes.

“Mispronunciations are common in Knox’s writings,” Bandara said. “English authors of the time struggled with Sinhala phonetics, and distorted versions of local names entered European literature.”

Over time, these distortions became formalised. Today, Duberria refers to African slug-eating snakes — a genus geographically distant, yet linguistically tethered to Sri Lanka.

Bandara’s study also proposes the long-overdue designation of a type species for the genus, reviving a 222-year-old scientific name in the process.

Equally compelling is the case of Malpolon, the genus of Montpellier snakes found across North Africa, the Middle East and southern Europe. Bandara traced the word back to a 1693 work by English zoologist John Ray, which catalogued snakes from Dutch India — including Sri Lanka.

“The term Malpolon appears alongside Sinhala vernacular names,” Bandara noted. “It is highly likely derived from Mal Polonga, meaning ‘flowery viper’.” Even today, some Sri Lankan communities use Mal Polonga to describe patterned snakes such as the Russell’s Wolf Snake.

Bandara’s research further reveals Sinhala roots in the African Red-lipped Herald Snake (Crotaphopeltis hotamboeia), whose species name likely stems from Hothambaya, a regional Sinhala term for mongooses and palm civets.

“These findings collectively show that Sri Lanka was not just a source of specimens, but a source of knowledge,” Bandara said. “Early European naturalists relied heavily on local names, local guides and local ecological understanding.”

Perhaps the most frequently asked question Bandara encounters concerns the mighty Anaconda. While not a scientific name, the word itself is widely believed to be a corruption of the Sinhala Henakandaya, another snake name recorded in Ray’s listings of Sri Lankan reptiles.

“What is remarkable,” Bandara reflected, “is that these words travelled across continents, entered global usage, and remained there — often stripped of their original meanings.”

For Bandara, restoring those meanings is about more than taxonomy. It is about reclaiming Sri Lanka’s rightful place in the history of science.

“With this study, three more Sinhala words formally join scientific nomenclature,” he said.

“Who would have imagined that a Sinhala word would be used to name a snake in Africa?”

Long before biodiversity hotspots became buzzwords and conservation turned global, Sri Lanka’s language was already speaking through science — quietly, persistently, and across continents.

By Ifham Nizam

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Children first – even after a disaster

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However, the children and their needs may be forgotten after a disaster.

Do not forget that children will also experience fear and distress although they may not have the capacity to express their emotions verbally. It is essential to create child-friendly spaces that allow them to cope through play, draw, and engage in supportive activities that help them process their experiences in a healthy manner.

The Institute for Research & Development in Health & Social Care (IRD), Sri Lanka launched the campaign, titled “Children first,” after the 2004 Tsunami, based on the fundamental principle of not to medicalise the distress but help to normalise it.

The Island picture page

The IRD distributed drawing material and play material to children in makeshift shelters. Some children grabbed drawing material, but some took away play material. Those who choose drawing material, drew in different camps, remarkably similar pictures; “how the tidal wave came”.

The Island” supported the campaign generously, realising the potential impact of it.

The campaign became a popular and effective public health intervention.

“A public health intervention (PHI) is any action, policy, or programme designed to improve health outcomes at the population level. These interventions focus on preventing disease, promoting health, and protecting communities from health threats. Unlike individual healthcare interventions (treating individuals), which target personal health issues, public health interventions address collective health challenges and aim to create healthier environments for all.”

The campaign attracted highest attention of state and politicians.

The IRD continued this intervention throughout the protracted war, and during COVID-19.

The IRD quick to relaunch the “children first” campaign which once again have received proper attention by the public.

While promoting a public health approach to handling the situation, we would also like to note that there will be a significant smaller percentage of children and adolescents will develop mental health disorders or a psychiatric diagnosis.

We would like to share the scientific evidence for that, revealed through; the islandwide school survey carried out by the IRD in 2007.

During the survey, it was found that the prevalence of emotional disorder was 2.7%, conduct disorder 5.8%, hyperactivity disorder was 0.6%, and 8.5% were identified as having other psychiatric disorders. Absenteeism was present in 26.8%. Overall, previous exposure to was significantly associated with absenteeism whereas exposure to conflict was not, although some specific conflict-related exposures were significant risk factors. Mental disorder was strongly associated with absenteeism but did not account for its association with tsunami or conflict exposure.

The authors concluded that exposure to traumatic events may have a detrimental effect on subsequent school attendance. This may give rise to perpetuating socioeconomic inequality and needs further research to inform policy and intervention.

Even though, this small but significant percentage of children with psychiatric disorders will need specialist interventions, psychological treatment more than medication. Some of these children may complain of abdominal pain and headaches or other physical symptoms for which doctors will not be able to find a diagnosable medical cause. They are called “medically unexplained symptoms” or “somatization” or “bodily distress disorder”.

Sri Lanka has only a handful of specialists in child and adolescent psychiatric disorders but have adult psychiatrists who have enough experience in supervising care for such needy children. Compared to tsunami, the numbers have gone higher from around 20 to over 100 psychiatrists.

Most importantly, children absent from schools will need more close attention by the education authorities.

In conclusion, going by the principles of research dissemination sciences, it is extremely important that the public, including teachers and others providing social care, should be aware that the impact of Cyclone Ditwah, which was followed by major floods and landslides, which is a complex emergency impact, will range from normal human emotional behavioural responses to psychiatric illnesses. We should be careful not to medicalise this normal distress.

It’s crucial to recall an important statement made by the World Health Organisation following the Tsunam

Prof. Sumapthipala MBBS, DFM, MD Family Medicine, FSLCFP (SL), FRCPsych, CCST (UK), PhD (Lon)]

Director, Institute for Research and Development in Health and Social Care, Sri Lanka

Emeritus Professor of Psychiatry, School of Medicine, Faculty of Medicine & Health Sciences, Keele University, UK

Emeritus Professor of Global Mental Health, Kings College London

Secretary General, International society for Twin Studies 

Visiting Professor in Psychiatry and Biomedical Research at the Faculty of Medicine, Kotelawala Defence University, Sri Lanka

Associate Editor, British Journal Psychiatry

Co-editor Ceylon Medical Journal.

Prof. Athula Sumathipala

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