CHAPTER II

(Excerpted from N.U. JAYAWARDENA The first five decades)

I am proud of my humble beginnings. My earliest memories are of my parents, humble people. My father was in charge of the resthouse at Hambantota and held the conferred rank of arachchi, and later he farmed a rather large but unproductive extent of paddy land.

(N.U. Jayawardena, interview with Roshan Pieris, 1987)

Religious Background

NU’s parents, born in the 19th century, were essentially people of the South who had never travelled beyond the Hambantota and Matara districts, until their old age when they moved to Colombo. They were devout Buddhists who had lived through the Buddhist Revival Movement in Sri Lanka, which occurred from the middle of the 19th century onward. The South also had a regional consciousness as being the “Gods’ own country” (deviyange rata), since Kataragama, the pilgrimage site of Buddhists and Hindus, was in the region.

There was also a historic memory of former greatness in the South of Sri Lanka. The people of the Matara and Hambantota districts were steeped in the early history of the Ruhuna region, when Tissamaharama was a powerful kingdom associated especially with King Dutugemunu (c.100 BC), his father King Kavantissa and mother Vihara Maha Devi. The region abounds in important historic and religious sites, in places such as Mulkirigala, Tissamaharama, Kirinde, Sithulpawwa and Kataragama. In Devundara (Dondra) was the ancient Vishnu devale, revered by both Hindus and Buddhists – with its rituals and annual perahera (procession).

Buddhist monk with acolytes

An important challenge to the colonial establishment had come from the Buddhists, who opposed Christianity as being the religion of the foreign rulers and challenged Christian missionaries, who dominated education. The Buddhist Revival Movement of the 19^th and early 20th centuries was concerned with religious and national identity, also promoting modern education and temperance in the context of Buddhism. Support for it came from the new class of Sinhala Buddhist merchants who had earlier made fortunes in trade, the liquor business, plantations and graphite.

Many Buddhists from rural areas and small towns were also galvanized into supporting Buddhist grievances and demands. Some Buddhist revivalists – especially Anagarika Dharmapala and Colonel Henry Olcott – travelled by cart from village to village all over the South, promoting a resurgence of Buddhism and collecting funds for Buddhist schools.

Although the various communities had lived harmoniously, there were some occasional rumblings of religious discord. The Sinhala Buddhists thought of themselves as ‘sons of the soil.’ There were clashes in Colombo in 1883, when there was conflict between Buddhists and Catholics over Easter celebrations. In 1915, a more serious clash broke out between Buddhists and Muslims, beginning in Gampola and quickly spreading to other parts of the island. These and other flare-ups were a reflection of both the religious and economic discord of the period.

School drill

The young NU would have been keenly aware of the existence in the Hambantota area of both Buddhists and Muslims. Leonard Woolf had reported that “the races and religions have lived amicably side by side,” but that there were also occasional outbursts. Woolf records a riot occurring in Hambantota town in May 1911, when, allegedly, the drumming from a Buddhist procession outside the mosque was objected to by Muslims, resulting in a fracas.

Woolf (1962, pp.241-42) relates how he settled the matter: “I fined one side for disturbing a religious procession and the other for tom-tom beating without a licence, the Mohammedans Rs. 35 and the Buddhists Rs. 60.” Adding that the penalties were light, he said that it was done “as a matter of expedience” in order to allow the “religious ill-feeling to die out at once” (ibid). According to Woolf, “even in the quietest place, peace was precarious” (1961, p.242).

NU’s elder sister Rosalind witnessed this event, and years later recalled to her daughter Chandrani, how at the age of six she had the frightening experience of peering through the door into the street and seeing the commotion and bloodshed. NU would have been only three at the time. Even if he did not recall this riot, he may have been aware of the more widespread riots between the Sinhala and Muslim communities that occurred later in 1915.

Education and Illiteracy

During a period of expanding education in the early 20th century, the Hambantota district (as noted in Chapter 1- https://island.lk/unchanging-hambantota/), was among the least-developed in the island. The Superintendent of the 1911 Census, E.B. Denham, referred to the district, in terms of literacy, as “undoubtedly the most backward Low-country District during the decade” (Denham, 1912, p.407, emphasis added).

Transitions in dress reflecting two cultures

Among the Sinhala community of Hambantota, the literacy figures in 1901 were 27% for males, but only 1.7% for females; and by 1911, the males were still only 31% literate, and the females, 2.2%. Even in the more developed neighbouring districts, Sinhala female literacy was low. For example, the Matara district had 7% female literacy in 1911, while the Galle district rate was 14% (ibid, pp.404-7). By contrast, in the same year, 26.8% of women in Colombo were literate (ibid, p.412).

NU, who was very attached to his mother, frequently referred to her inability to read and write. Of his mother, who was from Devundara in the Matara district, he said:

My mother was very warm-hearted. She was not literate. She could not even sign her own name. But she created for her children a loving home where all of us were equally important and each one of us received the same measure of concern and affection. She had the time to spend with us, and it was this aspect of my home life that made me, years later, when I married, spend time with my children even though I was often busy and tired, because I wanted them to feel that I was concerned about every aspect of their lives. (interview by Manel Abhayaratne)

NU’s daughter Neiliya remembers her paternal grandmother as a ‘carbon copy’ of her own mother:

The only difference was that the former could neither read nor write. She was, however, the moving spirit behind her family and children, seven of whom lived into their eighties and beyond. (Neiliya Perera,2006)

In spite of her illiteracy, NU’s mother had a sharp mind and, according to all accounts, was the brains in the family. Thrifty and enterprising, she lent money informally, on the security of gold sovereigns, to women of the neighbourhood, many of whom were Muslim. Her method of calculation was based on a measurement of time from one poya (full-moon) day to the next. She would mentally calculate the interest and would waive part of it if the item was redeemed before the end of this period (Chandrani Jayawardena, quoting her mother’s recollections). This was not uncommon, as women from low-income groups had, and continue to have, their own means of survival, which could also include the seettu (a system of saving), lace-making, coir-spinning, mat-weaving, and other income- generating small ventures.

The Consciousness of Caste

In Sri Lanka, caste and kinship networks – originally based on occupation – formed the basis of society, reinforced by traditional obligations to relatives. Southern Sri Lanka was a multi-caste region where a range of Sinhala castes were present. There were, however, clusters of persons belonging to specific castes who, historically, were concentrated in certain areas. The Durava caste, to which NU’s parents belonged, was one of the smaller but more important castes of the Southern and Western provinces.

In the 1824 Census, in which caste was recorded for the first time, the Durava were reported as forming around 5.6% of the low-country Sinhala population, with pockets of the Durava caste in specific areas – Tangalle 9.5%, Colombo 4.7%, Galle 3.7% and Chilaw 4.1% (Ryan, 1953, p.264). During the 19th century, however, changes took place with the development of the colonial economy and the increased migration of people to Colombo in search of employment. Bryce Ryan, writing in 1953, noted that the economic backgrounds among the Durava ranged from “rich to very poor” in urban areas, but the majority, in rural areas, were “peasant cultivators and labourers.”

. Humorous depictions of the “Resthouse experience,”

From the time of Dutch occupation onwards, this caste had moved from traditional occupations at village level into other areas of activity available under the colonial economy, especially benefiting from education, economic opportunities and urban expansion during British rule.

By the early 20th century, a significant number of the Durava were part of the middle and lower- middle class of Colombo. Through the education process, they qualified for government positions in clerical and other white-collar employment, and many became lawyers, doctors, teachers and academics.

In a caste- and class-conscious society, the family of NU (like many others of the region) were aware of the limitations of caste-based rural life and would seek to move into the modern world where status was judged on education, merit and achievement, and not solely on caste.

Inevitably, bright males in the family were supported and financed by relatives, so that they could achieve success and thereby elevate the status of the whole family. The key to success was education in the English language, and studious boys often moved from small missionary or government schools to the larger, more prestigious schools in the provincial capitals, and even on to major schools in Colombo, which provided a superior academic education.

Chandrani and her mother Rosalind, NU’s elder sister

Verandah of Hambantota Resthouse

The Resthouse Culture

At the time of NU’s birth, his father U.J. Diyonis was the resthouse keeper at Hambantota. He also possessed a buggy cart and some acres of paddy land in Tangalle. It had been his wife’s uncle, Richard Gunasekera, a clerk to the District Mudaliyar of Magampattu, who had advised him to apply for the post. Diyonis, of an independent frame of mind, was also, as NU’s daughter Neiliya describes him: “a man who had a similar temperament to my father, but without his brilliance.” By ‘temperament,’ she was referring to Diyonis’ and NU’s quick temper and impatience.

Resthouses, which were a colonial innovation, served as places where government officials could lodge during their field circuits. They were located throughout the island, mainly along public roads – often at attractive sites. In 1911 there were 193 resthouses (Denham, 1912, p.5). Resthouses were also used by a few local residents who could afford them, to spend a quiet holiday or as a place of sojourn during a long journey (de Zoysa manuscript, p.42). The post of resthouse keeper was a respected one, usually being conferred the title of arachchi. The job carried the responsibility of providing congenial accommodation and food, mostly for colonial officials and tourists.

In their architecture, resthouses generally conformed to a set style. A partially enclosed verandah ran along its entire length; from this, doors led to the dining room in the centre, and to bedrooms on either side. Behind the dining room was a space that served as a reception room, which also had a liquor bar. The kitchen and the rooms of the waiters and other employees were still further toward the back (de Zoysa manuscript, p.42). The professional attributes of a resthouse keeper were civility, knowledge of English sufficient to communicate with British officials or other visitors, and an ability to ensure their comfortable stay, as well as to handle the staff under his authority.

Diyonis, on these counts, was much praised by the visitors to his resthouse, which overlooked the beautiful bay of Hambantota. In the course of his work, he had to show courtesy, and provide efficient service, clean accommodation, good western and local food, and to be deferential to foreign guests, colonial bureaucrats and important locals who visited the resthouse. Leonard Woolf, who spent three years in Hambantota – living in the AGA’s house near the resthouse – would have been a frequent patron with his guests, interacting closely with U.J. Diyonis. (1. Interestingly, decades later, while studying in Britain,

NU’s son Lal interviewed Woolf several times on British land policy and the chena system of cultivation.)

In those days of strict dress codes and protocol, the personal appearance and grooming of the resthouse staff would have been important. From many accounts, both NU’s mother and father were conscious about their appearance, and paid great attention to detail – traits NU shared. NU’s daughter Neiliya recalls the great pride that her grandfather Diyonis took in his appearance, and how he was always dressed in a white cloth and coat with gold buttons.

Sinhala women dressed in typical ‘southern’ style

Neiliya also describes how her grandmother would always be immaculately dressed in a white blouse with wrist-length sleeves styled in the southern fashion, with delicate lace-inset panels. With this she would wear a light-coloured cloth, which would ‘glisten like silk.’ Being practical, her grandmother would wear a darker cloth when doing housework, but would change into a better cloth when receiving guests. Confirmation of this fastidiousness on her grandmother’s part, as regards her person and abode, can be gleaned from Neiliya’s interesting childhood impression:

[My grandparents’] house itself was spotlessly clean, the cement floor gleaming, just like my grandmother, who was always dressed in a white blouse, edged with lace and with detachable gold buttons down the front and a self-coloured cloth.

Sri Lankan ‘Moor’

For those who knew or encountered NU in his later life, it is apparent that he reflected this upbringing. Many who met him were struck by his meticulousness and disciplined approach to his physical appearance, grooming and dress, in his surroundings and in his work. Indeed, many of those who came into his presence would witness how his eye would immediately hone in on anything out of place. He was an extremely orderly person who liked everything in its place, and many people have remarked upon the style and grace in which he entertained people at his home or in his office.

One can trace these qualities in NU back to his childhood. Being an observant and bright child, NU would have watched all the comings and goings at the resthouse, and the organizational problems his father coped with, including catering, accounting, and keeping the system running efficiently. He would have keenly watched the colonial officials, foreign tourists and dignitaries and members of the local elite – their lifestyles, mannerisms and eating and drinking habits – and had more than a glimpse of how the privileged lived.

His father may have shown him the names in the visitors’ book; and NU probably decided, early in life, that he would emancipate himself from his social origins and become part of the elite whom he had observed at close quarters in his father’s place of work. But he did not have many illusions about the difficulty of achieving such ambitions. The gulf between ‘them’ and ‘us’ was wide, and he would have sensed that the one possibility of social mobility and of finding a way out of Hambantota was through education.

Out of the disparate and contradictory tendencies, which were produced during colonial rule, two cultures developed in Sri Lankan society, which were not mutually exclusive. One, disdainful of colonial influence, emphasized traditional values and loyalty to ethnic, caste and kinship group and the extended family.

Hambantota coastline with boats

The other, a modernizing culture, required a rational worldview, western education, more individualism and knowledge of English. The educated youth embodied these different trends in their outlook. They looked forward and back. They wanted to modernize and to better themselves economically and socially. The majority looked for white-collar jobs, a few gaining membership in prestigious professions.

‘Modernization’ was conceived by them in the image of the colonial rulers (though those rulers never accepted them as their social equals). Yet, those who wanted to move on were also, like the mass of society, rooted in the past.

It was an interesting case of the coexistence of tradition and modernity, and a hybrid ‘two-culture’ society. NU mirrored this combined development. He was a man of two worlds – a Sinhala Buddhist, and a Durava, but educated in English – conforming in his later life to a westernized lifestyle and universalistic outlook, while also remaining conscious of ethno-religious and caste issues. An Indian writer once said that, people in India may have left the village, but the village never left them.

This was true of many Sri Lankans from a rural background, who never forgot their roots and held onto certain traditional practices, one of them being the obligation to help family members and relations. There are many anecdotes that show how, throughout his life, NU engaged in the traditional practice of helping others: his parents, sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews, along with many others who appealed to him for assistance.

By Kumari Jayawardena and Jennifer Moragoda