Features
OLD REST HOUSES OF THE JAFFNA PENINSULA
by HUGH KARUNANAYAKE
Rest houses were the pioneering institutions associated with the hospitality industry in Ceylon of the period between the 18th and 20th Centuries. Readers may be surprised to note that “Rest House” is an institution found only in Sri Lanka. The name seems to be derived from the Dutch term Rust Huys which was the appellation in use when they were originally established during the days of Dutch rule over the island’s maritime provinces. They were originally used as inns or hostelry for the use of the Governor or leading government officials when visiting local areas when there were neither hotels nor proper roads to the island. Its Indian counterpart during days of British rule was called “Inspection Bungalows” or IBs and also as Dak bungalows.
Over the years, rest houses in Ceylon became popular places for holidaying and for rest and recreation especially during colonial days when many of them were established across the country, mainly as accommodation for government officials on “circuit”, as inspection tours were officially known. They also served as convenient accommodation for the local traveller, there being hardly any alternative in those early days.
Most rest houses were located on sites chosen for their scenic beauty or strategic position. The discerning eye of the old British provincial engineers of the PWD has to be acknowledged for the inspiring locations of most Rest Houses across the country. Most were constructed during or before the 20th Century and were architecturally typical of that era. Usually with colonnaded open verandahs with round tiled roofs, and overlooking splendid vistas, pleasing to the eye, these buildings assumed a unique character. Any structure not conforming to that basic architectural formula ran the risk of being termed a “guesthouse” – a different kettle of fish altogether!
Rest house cuisine also developed into an epicurean genre all its own. It was a delight not only to the tired traveller, but also to the gourmand, most of the recipes being based on locally available produce and unique in many ways. The popularity of rest houses continued into post independence days up to the time of the emergence of tourist hotels which commenced in the mid 1960s.
From the 1960s onwards Sri Lanka commenced investing in tourism development infrastructure, and a string of luxury hotels came up on the South Western coast from Negombo down to Tangalle, in the east coast, and soon into tea country and other picturesque sites in the hinterland. The north of the country beyond Anuradhapura however was by and large neglected by the tourism industry excepting the north east sector around Trincomalee. The lacuna was mainly because of uncertainty and risk associated with the then prevalent civil war lasting around 30 years.
The Jaffna Peninsula and its people remained in relative isolation during the period of the civil war. There was very little in the form of accommodation for the traveller to that part of the country, which was a veritable ‘no go zone’ for three decades. Consequently, the hoary old institution known as the rest house, assumed a certain significance to the tired traveller seeking a place of rest, albeit there being few who dared take the risk to travel into the heart of the war zone!
It was during the British colonial days that popularity of rest houses in Sri Lanka peaked. This was around the 1930s. There were then 162 rest houses in the country of which there were nine within the Jaffna Peninsula. By 1963 the total number declined to 108 with the number in the Jaffna Peninsula dropping to six.
At the turn of the 20th Century, some of the oldest rest houses in Ceylon were in the peninsula where the locals called them madams or choultrys, somewhat equivalent to the tanayama or ambalama in the south of the island.
The rest houses in the Jaffna peninsula received the attention of writers like James Cordiner (1807), Capt Thomas Aldersey Jones of the 19th Regiment (1805) and later, the reputed antiquarian John Penry Lewis, whose observations in an article for the Times of Ceylon Annual 1913, provide interesting insights into the life of the local traveller of those times. A review of some of the early descriptions of rest houses in the peninsula will help shed some light into the prevalent lifestyle and customs in the North, and bring back to mind an era gone forever!
At the beginning of the 20 th Century the rest houses in the peninsula were those in Jaffna, Elephant Pass, Kayts, Point Pedro, Pallai, Pass Beshuter, and Kankesanturai. The civil war which engulfed the North of the country saw the destruction of the Elephant Pass, Chavakachcheri, and Jaffna rest houses. I am happy to record that my stay in the Jaffna and Kankesanturai rest houses in 1977 brings back nostalgic memories of the City of Jaffna.
The rest houses in Pallai, Pass Beshuter, and Chundikulam, ceased to function many years previously, due to lack of patronage, and thus became economically unviable. Those remaining today would most likely be operating below optimum level, except perhaps Kankesanturai, which has been revamped and functions as a tourist facility at the northern most point of the island.
Captain Thomas Aldersay Jones of the 19th Regiment, wrote in his unpublished diary of December 25, 1805, said that there were rest houses or choultries at Chavakachcheri, Kilali, and “Bescooter”. It seems apparent therefore that the others in the peninsula were built later. “Pas Beschuter: or “Beshuter” as it was sometimes called, was 15 miles east of of Kilali, away from the coast on the road to Mulaitivu via Chundikulam, which was at the extreme South East end of the peninsula.
Captain Jones noted in his diary that the choultry at Kilali was the most comfortable on this road and observed :”Rest house good, people civil, and can get everything”.
James Cordiner observed in his work published in 1807, “at Kilali choultry or rest house, the landlord is an invalided sergeant who formerly served the Dutch Government, and is now settled there in charge of the Post Office. Both he and his wife are born of Ceylonese mothers”. Jones noted that “Chavacherry” or Chavakachcheri “adjoined the ruins of a large house which in Portuguese times was the residence of the parish priest”. J.P. Lewis noted 100 years later, that the then existing rest house was probably on the same site adjoining the Magistrate’ s bungalow which Lewis earlier occupied for five months “pestered by bats and depressed by the smoke of the cremation ground nearby”.
Captain jones in his diary referred to a large Moorish Church which, according to Lewis, was, in fact, the remnants of a Portuguese Church. The Chavakachcheri rest house has since been completely demolished, and only the land remained.
In the old Pas Beshuter Rest House visitor’s book, there was a verse by Graeme Read Mercer of the Ceylon Civil Service arising from a complaint by two travellers who had preceded him and which reflects on the isolation of rest houses and the problem of servicing its needs in far flung outposts. The verse reads thus: “
Messrs Buwker and Meek/Discover a leak
/On which a few pence expended
/Will save many pounds/
A few years hence/
When it will be as they will be mended/ ”
The rest house at Pas Beshuter which operated for over half a century, seem to have ended its usefulness by the end of the 19th century, when Lewis noted that the pillars which supported its roof was still seen standing in desolate rows amid the ruins of the old Dutch Fort. The rest house in Chundikulum which was still in use in
1805 when Captain Jones commented in his diary “Rest house bad, and could get nothing, the natives having gone on a visit and not returned”!
Lewis noted when he visited Chundikulum over a 100 years later, that there had been no visitor for the three preceding years! Little wonder that the rest house ceased to function not long afterwards.
The rest house in Point Pedro was more a madan or ambalama or resting place for travellers, built across the road with traffic passing under its arched roof and adjoins a Hindu temple which was built by the brahmins associated with the temple, with the approval of the District Road Committee.
It is unique in style, having an arched dome like roof similar to arched madams found in South India. The photograph below taken by Skeen and Co around 1900, shows the rest house in its original form. The building exists to this day, but without the unique arched roof, which has been replaced by a plain gabled roof of metal sheets, the original roof structure of great character, a possible victim to the ravages of war.
The Elephant Pass rest house was originally a small Dutch Fort built in the 18 th century and stood at the entrance to the Jaffna Peninsula from the south, at the end of the causeway connecting the peninsula to the mainland.
According to Sir Emerson Tennent (1859), the name originated from the annual visitations by wild elephants during July and August,t he reason when the palmyrah fruit ripens, attracting wild elephants from the mainland. When Captain Jones arrived there on September 19, 180, he found the rest house “fallen down”! Perhaps the rest house was in a different location. Jones had to stay the night at the “tappal man’s house”
The Elephant Pass rest house was a picturesque house with a heritage well worthy of preservation, but was unfortunately destroyed during the war. The photograph shown here is from W.A. Nelson -the Dutch Forts of Sri Lanka, 1984.
The Jaffna Rest House was located near the esplanade and when it was built in the late 19th century it stood out in splendour with park like grounds. In later years the building looked less impressive and also suffered severe damage during the war.
The Kayts rest house built in the 19th century and located 100 yards away from the jetty was a small two roomed building. Remains of the foundation of a building dating back to the Portuguese era were observed within the rest house compound a century ago. A tombstone dated February 23, 1828 in memory of John the infant son of Rob Atherton, the sitting Magistrate and Fiscal of Delft, stood on the grounds of the rest house. It is not known whether the tombstone, or the rest house itself exists today.
The rest house keeper during the early 20th century was a man by the name Pillai who with his brother were well known for the sumptuous breakfasts they served their guests. The Pillai brothers were known by their nicknames Bob Pillai and Ned Pillai and were an institution in Kayts, much like Tamby the well known rest house keeper of the Trincomalee rest house of that era.
The Kankesanturai rest house is an old building constructed in the 19 Century to which a 20th century addition was made. It is located in a picturesque point facing the Indian Ocean. It was constructed during the tenure of office of District Engineer Armstrong, a man responsible for many public works in the peninsula.
During the war it was run as a tourism facility by the defence department. With the end of the war several hotel projects commenced in the peninsula, and it is hoped that the income generated by tourism will be a stimulus to the economy of the Jaffna peninsula.
Features
‘Lord Edgware Dies’
It has been some time since I read an Agatha Christie, the plot of which I cannot remember. So, I was delighted to find on the shelves of a friend Lord Edgware Dies, which I had a vague memory of, but no certainty about who had done it.
When I read it, I found that my memory of who was probably the killer was correct, but I could not be certain and the red herrings Christie threw in were so diverting that until almost the very end I wondered if I had been wrong.
The plot is very simple. Jane Wilkinson, who is married to Lord Edgware, tells him that she is desperate for a divorce since she is in love with a very proper Anglo-Catholic peer, Lord Melton, but Edgware refuses to divorce her. She asks Poirot to talk to him, which he does, and is surprised to find that Edgware has told Jane he is prepared to give her a divorce. This was, after he had categorically refused, through a letter, which Jane said she had not received.
That night Edgware is murdered, after Jane had been to see him, or so the butler said, and also Edgware’s secretary. But Jane had been that evening at a grand dinner many miles away, where a dozen fellow guests could swear to her presence.
There was a solution however to the mystery of two Jane Wilkinsons, namely a skilful impersonator called Carlotta Adams who, in the opening chapter had impersonated Jane Wilkinson, who had also been at the performance. But when Poirot goes to see her, he finds that she had been found dead on the morning after Edgware had been killed, of an overdose. And in her bag was a gold case, with a strange inscription, that contained the drug, along with a pair of pince-nez.
Her maid said she had written a letter to her sister in America and posted it the previous night. Poirot asks Inspector Japp to get the letter, and a transcript is received from America, and in it the name of Edgware’s nephew Ronald Marsh is mentioned; he had taken Carlotta to dinner after her performance, with which the book opens, and had then set her a challenge. Japp arrests Marsh, but Poirot is not happy and asks for the original of the letter, which the sister sends him. That shows that a page is missing, and the tear is obvious, though that raises the question as to why it had not simply been cut.
Matters are further complicated by the fact that Marsh had gone in a taxi to the Edgware house, along with Edgware’s daughter Geraldine, in the interval of an opera which had previously seemed to provide them with cast iron alibis. Geraldine had gone in to fetch her pearls so that Marsh could raise money he needed, and thus had an opportunity to kill Edgware, as did Marsh, for the driver said he had got out of the taxi while waiting and gone into the house.
Marsh explained why he had gone to the house on the night of the murder as having followed Bryan Martin, an American actor, who had been in love with Jane, whom he saw go into the house with a key. But there was no one visible when he entered, and Geraldine almost immediately came down and they left together. And Martin too has become an object of suspicion to Poirot, for he had been to see him before the murders were discovered with a story of being followed by a man with a gold tooth – a story Poirot immediately realized was false when he was asked how old the man was, and was told he was young, for young people did not have gold teeth.
A heap of French money Edgware had got for a trip to Paris was missing, but since Marsh had no need for it after his cousin’s offer of help, Poirot deduces that it must have been taken by the butler, who has disappeared. Christie has stressed that he is astonishingly handsome, unusual in a butler, and Poirot notes a resemblance to Martin, so he thinks the mysterious man going into the house must have been him.
Incidentally, later Poirot assumes that Edgware’s change of mind was because he was involved in some scandal, and I believe Christie intends us to see the cause of this in his handsome butler, though this is not specified.
Meanwhile, Poirot has asked Japp to find out the provenance of the case found in Carlotta’s handbag, and it turns out to have been made in Paris, specially commissioned, and collected by a woman with pince-nez.
But then another murder occurs—that of another guest at the grand dinner, which provided Jane with her alibi. The victim is an actor who had been bemused when Jane, at a lunch, thought the Judgment of Paris referred to the city. He told Hastings he wanted to see Poirot, but was killed before he could get to the appointment. Poirot had rushed there when told about his request, but it was too late.
Meanwhile, Poirot has tried out the pince-nez on Edgware’s secretary, but she could not see through these. It was only a chance remark heard outside the theatre that led him to try them out on Wilkinson’s maid Ellis, a spare pair that had been appropriated for the night of the murders.
Poirot then lays things out, having summoned Martin and told him that he probably suppressed Edgware’s letter, as he had been dropped by then and he did not want Jane to marry another. But after teasing Martin, Poirot says that Jane was in fact the murderer, and she got Carlotta to impersonate her at the dinner while she went to the house and killed her husband. After meeting Carlotta later and checking with her through a call that she had
not been rumbled, Jane had gone ahead with the murder – she put veronal into her drink and the case with veronal into the handbag. She forgot to take out the pince-nez she had used earlier to imitate an American. Carlotta had registered as the American in a hotel and Jane had gone to see her, and there they exchanged identities. After seen the letter, she made use of it by tearing off the page that referred to her, and the S of She, so that the person who had challenged Carlotta to impersonate her seemed to be a man.
There is a coda in which Jane, condemned to death, writes to Hastings, still full of pride at her ingenuity hoping she will be remembered.
Features
Desilt reservoirs, learn from our ancient irrigation systems
by Prof. O. A. Ileperuma
Silting of reservoirs is a major problem today affecting our hydropower production and irrigation systems. The main Mahaweli reservoirs are silted to a considerable extent reducing the water holding capacity of them. Due to poor soil management practices, floodwaters deposit large amounts of silt in these reservoirs. When the Polgolla reservoir was fully drained about two years back, one could see mountains of silt in the lower reaches of the reservoir. A rough estimate is that 50% of the total capacity of these reservoirs has been lost to siltation. This is a serious issue which affects not only power and agriculture but also flood control.
Our ancient irrigation systems ensured that desilting of reservoirs took place under royal decree where all users of the reservoirs were ordered to carry out desilting of reservoirs during the dry season. The clay thus collected was used in making bricks for the construction of great stupas which dot the landscape of our ancient kingdoms. This ensured that the reservoirs had their full capacity filled with water for the next cultivating season. Our ancient kings were clever enough not to construct reservoirs by blocking main rivers such as the Mahaweli. A classic example is the Minipe left canal where they tapped only the surface water of Mahaweli. Even the bigger tanks such as Nuwara Wewa and Parakrama Samudraya were fed with minor rivulets. There were also other ingenious features in the cascade irrigation systems built by the ancient kings, such as mud sluice canals and forest reservations between the reservoirs in the cascade system. These reservations helped trap silt and remove excess nutrients, which could otherwise contribute to increasing salinity as water flowed from one reservoir to another.
- Parakrama Samudraya
- Kalawewa
- Kotmale
A classic engineering marvel is the former Yoda Ela, which carries water from Kalawewa to Nuwara Wewa and Tissa Wewa. It is 87 km long although the straight distance between these points is only about 40 km. The gradient of this canal is about 10 cm per km or 6 inches per mile. Yodha Ela functions as a moving reservoir and feeds about 4,600 hectares of paddy lands. It is a winding canal with about 120 smaller reservoirs on its way. It was constructed during the reign of King Dhatusena around 459 AD and later expanded by King Parakramabahu by connecting more reservoirs to the network. Unfortunately, during the Mahaweli project our modern-day engineers constructed a concrete canal replacing the winding path of this Yoda Ela also called Jaya Ganga. This effectively removed the ability of the old Yoda Ela to remove silt and nutrients. The bank of this Ela has wet zone trees such as jak and areca nut growing well. They take up the nutrients from the flowing stream making the water suitable for irrigation later.
Ancient Mesopotamian civilisations depended on dams constructed along the two main rivers, Euphrates and Tigris. After continuous irrigation of their fields over several thousand years, salinity of the irrigated lands increased making them unsuitable for agriculture. People died due to famine and this clearly illustrates the danger of blocking main rivers for agriculture. There is scientific evidence that the salinity of paddy soils in the Mahaweli C area is increasing.
We saw the devastation caused by Cyclone Ditwah. The sluice gates of the Kotmale Reservoir were opened, and Kandy and Peradeniya were flooded. If the reservoir had had greater storage capacity, couldn’t the opening of the gates have been delayed? This may not be an argument that modern-day engineers would readily accept, and I am not an irrigation expert. These ideas may well be naïve. But most of us tend to think of reservoirs mainly in terms of hydropower generation and irrigation, while their role in flood control receives much less attention. The question therefore deserves serious consideration. Could restoring lost reservoir capacity through desilting help improve our ability to manage extreme rainfall and reduce flood risks?
Desilting our reservoirs should be considered a national priority.
Features
Losing out to Ethiopia
Export diversification – Missing the wood for the trees – Part III
by Gomi Senadhira
In Sri Lanka, the word “Ethiopia” is often used as disparaging slang to describe individuals or areas experiencing extreme poverty, starvation, or severe economic hardship. This linguistic habit originated in the 1980s with the Western media coverage of the devastating Ethiopian famine of 1983-85. That media coverage shocked the world but also left an outdated and offensive global stereotype that the country is permanently starving. Much has changed since then. By now, with an annual growth rate of around 9%, it is the fastest-growing economy in sub-Saharan Africa. Ethiopia has also emerged as a highly competitive exporter and is challenging not only its competitors in the region but also countries like Sri Lanka. This article is on how Sri Lanka has lost ground to Ethiopia (and a few other countries) in the GCC markets for agricultural and floricultural products.
Sri Lanka – A Pioneer in the Agriculture and Floricultural Market in the GCC
As discussed in Part II of this article, by the mid-1980s Sri Lanka had established a strong foothold in the GCC’s fruit, vegetable, and floricultural market. Geographical proximity and well-established shipping and air links gave Sri Lanka a strong comparative advantage over Southeast Asian and African nations. Thailand, Vietnam, and Kenya were not even in the market. At that time, Ethiopia was experiencing (as BBC news reports described) “a biblical famine”.
The market was not very large, but it was lucrative and growing. Trade Minister Lalith Athulathmudali as well as the Chairman of the Export Development Board, Victor Santiapillai, who visited Kuwait (and the GCC countries), recognised the market potential for these products and encouraged us to continue with our work. The minister was particularly keen to further develop links between the market for these products, exporters, and his Export Production Villages (EPVs). So, it was becoming a successful case not only for export diversification but also for transferring gains from exports directly to rural households.
From Trailblazer to Tailender
As a result, even by the beginning of this century Sri Lanka had a larger market share than most of its competitors from Asia or Africa. But since then, our competitiveness has weakened significantly. The tables below provide a comparative snapshot of Sri Lanka’s performance vis-à-vis Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya and Ethiopia in the GCC market for vegetables, fruits and floricultural products. As illustrated therein, in 2001 Sri Lanka was ahead of Thailand, Kenya and Ethiopia in this small but rapidly growing market. Since then, we have fallen behind Thailand, Kenya and many other countries in that lucrative market. If this trend continues, Sri Lanka will fall behind Ethiopia within the next few years. (See Table 1)
In the GCC market for vegetables (covered in HS chapter 07), Sri Lanka was ahead of most other competitors in 2001. As illustrated in Table 1 , Sri Lanka had failed to develop this market, while Thailand, Kenya, and even Ethiopia had very efficiently increased their market shares. The GCC is a market to which Sri Lanka can supply some vegetables, like cabbages, by sea. It appears Sri Lanka had also failed to exploit this mode of supply.
We can see a similar trend in the market for fruits. Vietnam, Kenya, and Thailand have emerged as major players, while exports from Sri Lanka have staggered on slowly. In this segment, Vietnam has emerged as a leading player during the last twenty years and the GCC imports from Viet Nam have shot up from US$44 thousand in 2001 to US$346 million by 2024. In part one of these articles, I discussed the remarkable increase of jackfruit exports from Vietnam “…just $3 million in 2015 to an impressive $236.8 million in 2023” while most of our jackfruit production rots under the trees. This explains how countries develop their markets, geographically and product-wise. (See Table 2)
Sri Lanka’s performance has been weakest in the market for floricultural products (HS Chapter 06), which groups live trees, cut flowers, and ornamental foliage. When we first entered the market in the 1980s, the market was dominated by the Netherlands, and Kenya and Ethiopia were not even in the market. At that time, we identified the Gulf states as a market where Sri Lanka could have a dominant presence due to geographical proximity. Even in 2001, Sri Lanka was ahead of Kenya, Ethiopia, and Thailand. But by now, Kenya has emerged as the dominant supplier. Ethiopia is also expanding its market share and is the third-largest exporter. (See Table 3)
Missing the Wood for the Trees
In the mid-1980s, Sri Lanka first established its foothold in the GCC market. Since then, Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya, and even Ethiopia have moved well ahead of us and have become leading players. Why did we lag behind in our export diversification efforts in general and, more particularly, in the GCC market?
The reasons are very clear. After the initial attempts in the 1980s and early 1990s, Sri Lanka has not been proactively involved in identifying, developing, and promoting new products and markets, or protecting and further developing new markets already established. The focus has simply been on traditional exports: tea, coconut, cinnamon, and garments, while other products were almost ignored. In essence, we have been and continue to focus intensely on a narrow group of products and markets, and we have lost sight of the bigger picture.
(The writer can be reached at senadhiragomi@gmail.com)
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