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Seeing It from the Outside:GALLE DISTRICT (1974 -1976)

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Exile III

Around the middle of 1974, while enjoying the serenity of Batticaloa and its distance from Colombo, which kept official visitations at bay, I was asked one day by Neale de Alwis, the deputy minister of home affairs, whether I would like to come to Galle to succeed Victor Unantenne. This was the second time I was going to succeed Victor who was a very firm administrator and who held strong views which in turn caused a fair amount of turbulence within the institutions he controlled.

My immediate response was to say ‘yes’ because although Batticaloa was extremely pleasant with its collection of highly-civilized people to deal with at a social and political level, the fact that my son had two years of his education in the Sinhala stream at St Michael’s College was causing a concern. I knew that Galle was going to be difficult because it has a very vibrant political life with many highly skilled and demanding people.

The political scene was studded with such stars as Neale de Alwis himself from the LSSP; L C de Silva of the LSSP from Ambalangoda; M G Mendis of the CP from Ratgama; Prins Gunasekera, Independent Left from Hambaraduwa; Dahanayake from Galle and two other members from the governing party of the SLFP.

Neale was the deputy minister home affairs and also district political authority (DPA) for Galle district and it was an absolute pleasure to work with this perfect gentleman. Although a Marxist by persuasion, he displayed a most elite quality which bespoke his long and respected lineage. He never made improper requests during my two years in Galle and every proposal I made to him was instantaneously approved.

Understanding Galle through its history

My first impression of the town of Galle in 1974 was that, once upon a time, it must have been a place buzzing with activity. Now, as I took over as its new government agent, it seemed to have lost its dynamism and looked like a medieval town caught in a time warp. The large Dutch Fort, perched on the promontory overlooking the harbour with its forbidding grey ramparts and half filled-up moat symbolized the illusion of unreality. Inside the fort, the narrow houses with their deep rooms and high ceilings, their inner courtyards opening to the sky, the old church and the underground prison cells all added to the sense of one being in another place and age.

The decadence around the fort was matched by the sprawling and unkempt esplanade which at one time, must have been, like the Galle Face green in Colombo, the fashionable walk-about where the elite of the city took the air each evening. The business quarter, with the bus-stand and tea boutiques, bright lights at night time and the uninterrupted, loud radio music presented a distracting contrast to the sombreness of the fort and the images it conjured of the past.

Until 1867 when the Port of Colombo was opened for shipping with the construction of the breakwaters, the wide bay of Galle was the premier harbour of the island. First, with sailing ships and then with the steamships, Galle had flourished as the only safe anchorage in the country. The few mercantile houses which remained bore testimony to the importance of the sea and Galle’s position on the main East-West sea route. It had always had an immense strategic value to the Portuguese, Dutch and British in turn, as the fort and its regular exchange from one conqueror to another testified.

When the steamship replaced sail, Galle continued to be important until the steamers got so large that they encountered difficulties in entering the harbour guarded at its entrance by a reef of low concealed rocks. With the rapid increase of shipping which called at Galle, this became a major problem with several steamers, notably the ‘Malabar’ which carried the mail and passengers, being wrecked on the reef in the 1860s.

However the use of the Port continued well into present times and after an inner harbour was constructed in the 1950s to make berthside docking possible for small vessels carrying bulk food cargoes and clinker for the cement plant, it began to fill a niche as one of the smaller ports of the country appropriate for coastal shipping.

In my time, along with grand plans for expansion into a major port which was the politician’s dream for the renaissance of Galle, we worked on a much less ambitious project of making Galle a regular port of call for the exclusive sailing yachts which the global rich were increasingly using for their round-the-world voyages of high adventure and recreation.

One of the financial attractions of an appointment in Galle for a GA was that there was a wholly undeserved allowance attached for being a deputy collector of customs. In addition, if so inclined, there was always the opportunity of a free dinner with the captain of the ship that had called in that day and any amount of free booze.

The P&O Lines were the main ships that called at Galle in earlier times and the company was responsible, along with the government, for many of the improvements made at the time. They were mainly cargo steamers carrying mail and goods from Europe to the Far East and using Galle as a re-fuelling point. The earlier steamers needed great quantities of coal for a voyage from Aden to Galle and then onwards to Singapore and Hong Kong.

Galle served as a very convenient midway storage point with thousands of tons of coal being made available for the many steamers that called. I read that at one time opium, which was a favoured article of trade, was being carried from Bombay to Hong Kong and that some of the opium was being re-packed for onward shipment from Galle. This gave me the clue to the conundrum as to how and why there had been a `Cheena Kotuwa’ or China Town in a part of the city.

A large group of Chinese labourers had been brought in from mainland China and they had helped in the handling and loading of the bags of opium which had arrived from Bombay on to the steamers which carried them on to China. So, perhaps Galle too had some old and indirect association with the opium wars in China.

Search among the tombstones for a Vice-Consul

My journey back in time, while I was in Galle, received an impetus in a curious way. In 1976, the American ambassador in Colombo, Christopher Van Hollen, was searching for the origins of the American connection with the Island to include in the piece he was writing to honour the bi-centenary of American independence which had taken place in 1778.

I had met Chris on my now more frequent visits to Colombo and he put me the question one day as to whether I could trace the story of a certain John Black who was said to be the first Vice-Consul of the United States on the island. Black had apparently been posted as Vice-Consul to Galle because that was the main port and customs station at the time.

John Black, I found, was not an American but of Scottish ancestry. However, the US government had chosen him as their man for the Vice-Consulship since he had been obviously well known in the area and had held a high position in the commercial field. The search for John Black led me on a fascinating journey. I first checked the Births and Deaths Registry in the Galle Kachcheri. I found that there indeed was a reference to one John Black who had died at the age of 44 in 1845.

The entry as to the cause of death was cryptic. It said very shortly that John Black `died of a liver complaint’. I had the feeling that Black, bored until the arrival of the next vessel, was not averse to ‘hitting the bottle’! The death register gave no clue as to the life he had led and his family and for this I turned to Nora Roberts, the famed librarian of the Galle Public Library.

Nora was the unmarried daughter of the Roberts family her father was a distinguished Civil Servant of West Indian origin and her mother was a Dutch Burgher from Galle. The family was well-known and well-loved in Galle. Nora was also hard of hearing and this made her job as librarian somewhat problematic. One often had to raise one’s voice quite a lot for Nora to hear and her reply too would be quite loud. All of this loud conversation would take place under a large sign which said `silence .please’.

Finally, Nora put me on to a wonderful book Inscriptions on Tombstones in the Graveyards of Ceylon by J P Lewis. I checked the index of Tombstones which has the names of virtually every person of the Christian faith who had died and been buried on the island. I was elated when I quite easily found the reference to John Black. He was buried, the book said, in 1845 in the graveyard of St Peter’s Church in the Fort of Galle. I was now hot on the trail of John Black.

In the church, yet very visible in 1975, was a large stained glass window which had been gifted to the church by the Black family. The inscription on the stained glass window bore references not only to John but to the extended Black family as well. My search for John Black’s tombstone in the premises of St Peter’s however proved futile.

I continued in my questioning of the older townsfolk until I was told that sometime during the second world war, in about the 1940s, all the graves and tombstone’s inside the Fort had been taken up and put down somewhere else in the town. It did not take me long to find out where. My long search ended one Saturday afternoon when I climbed over a locked, old and shaky gate and actually stood by the very tombstone under which the remains ofJohn Black lay.

I quickly telephoned Chris Van Hollen and he and his wife Elisa, also a career diplomat on her own, came down to Galle in a day or two to have a look and end the search. Soon we had the treasured photograph of John Black’s deeply engraved tombstone in hand with Chris and myself standing proudly on both sides. It made for a story good enough to make an article by Chris in the next Foreign Officer’s Journal and earned a small part in the history of the bi-centenary report. For this effort, which Chris called ‘far beyond the call of duty’, I was duly conferred the title of Honorary Founder Member of the John Black Society. To this day Chris and I remain the only two members of this very exclusive society!

The District Political Authority politicization of the bureaucracy becomes legal

There were some innovations in the provincial administration which were introduced at the time I was in Galle. The process began with the institution of the ‘District Political Authority’ which legitimized the influence exerted by the political authority over the executive arm of the administration. This had been coming for some time but its institution made political control open, accountable and valid.

Tied to this, and in fact supplementing the authority of the District Political Authority was the concept of the ‘decentralized budget’ which was meant to cater to the needs of members of parliament who liked to have under their control a block of funds which could be used by them at their discretion. It was my good fortune to be caught up in the evolution of procedures and rules which would ensure fairness and equity in the way the new institutions and the new system of resource allocation would take root. Neale de Alwis was exceptional in adhering to the spirit of the law as well as in dealing with its form.

1974 land reform

The second wave of land reforms took place in 1974. The first was in 1972 in which large, private land holdings were affected. The maximum extent of land which could be owned by an individual was set at 50 acres. The second dealt with the Company Estates and took place soon after my arrival in Galle. The government agent had a key role to play in the process. My job was to moderate, as far as humanely possible, the exuberance of the supporters of the mainly left members of parliament who wanted to take over everything possible from the plantation owners.

In the Galle district there were a few foreign companies operating and most of the large tea and rubber estates were owned by the locals. Many long-standing families like the Amarasuriyas famous for their wealth, their benevolence and their right-wing politics were seriously affected. It was sad to have some of the older and more feeble members of these elite clans climb slowly up to my office on the second floor of the kachcheri to plead their case for protection of an old home or estate bungalow.

The case of the George Winter’ family from England, who had settled in Baddegama a 100 years earlier, and the efforts of the younger generation to keep the ownership of their beautiful Pilagoda Valley home was particularly poignant.

The government’s land reform programme really broke the power structure of the southern proprietor planters, politically, economically, and socially. No family who could be termed rich, owned land and were influential remained unaffected. They were mostly supporters of the UNP and this party’s base was virtually cut away through land reform.

I too felt the euphoria which was sweeping over the country at the time. On several weekends, accompanying the members of parliament and their supporters as they marched in procession into the exclusive estates which had earlier been strictly private property, to the accompaniment of drums and song, one could not but be taken up by the exhilaration sensed by the workers and villagers who were overnight suddenly made to feel themselves owners of the lands and buildings they had been looking at for generations from outside.

There was an unmistakable sense of victory for the `have-nots’ in the air, which lasted for some months. Sadly, this enthusiasm evaporated when the villagers soon realized that their particular need for land and employment and the substantial change in their lifestyles, was not going to be met in the way they had expected. Some crumbs dropped from the new tables of the public corporations with political appointees and boards who began to take the place of the earlier plantation owners; but actual repossession of land by the poor was tardy and infrequent.

The young Chandrika Bandaranaike, daughter of the prime minister, freshly returned from the Sorbonne where she had spent some years doing post-graduate research and then worked at the Land Reform Commission, was a welcome change to the usual crop of official visitors. My residence was the last on the hill, high on Dickson Road with a majestic view over the fort and the harbour in the distance.

Chandrika symbolized the spirit of the age as she rode into my home one morning, sharing the front seat with the driver and cleaner in an ancient lorry transporting some needed equipment for the cooperatives, from Colombo. She was totally involved in the on-going transformation of the old social order.

Annual flooding of the Gin Ganga and the Chinese bund

The flooding of the Gin ganga which runs through Galle from the Sinharaja mountains in the north to Gintota in the south, gravely affected the lives of the thousands of people living on its banks. Each year around August, the floods would occur and requests for assistance from persons marooned by the rising flood waters and by farmers whose fields were inundated for weeks would pour into the kachcheri.

During my first year at Galle, work on the construction of flood bunds on both sides of the Gin ganga river was being started with assistance from the People’s Republic of China. Dealing with the ambassador, his staff and the many technical officers who came in from China, was an interesting and pleasant experience.

The philosophy behind the project which all affected welcomed, was part of the Chinese history of flood protection which China was very familiar with in its work on the Hwang-ho and Yang-si-kiang rivers in the middle of China which periodically burst their banks and caused great damage. I was reminded of the interesting sayings of the Chinese philosophers who had said, as retold by our Geography teacher at St Thomas’,

“Dig deep the bars

keep low the bunds.”

The work we were doing on the Gin ganga was very reminiscent of what the ancient Chinese had been telling their peasants. The Gin ganga had been the lifeline of the Galle district before the road system was laid. Towns such as Nagoda, Baddegama and Hiniduma up in the hills, had become important settlements as a result of the commerce and transport up and down the Gin ganga.

The older families, whom I met on circuit in the countryside would talk about the days of the padda boats which were towed up the river along the tow paths on its western bank. I was surprised to find the old established Christian Churches at Baddegama and Hiniduma where there was even a replica of the Stations of the Cross, the religious markers of the Christian faith, in an essentially Buddhist district.

The temples too were as old if not older, and the resident monks Ganegama Sarankara Thero of Baddegama, Neluwe Gunananda Thero of Hiniduma and Akuratiya Amarawansa of Nagoda, erudite and scholarly. Although a district where Buddhists were greatly the majority, the followers of the two religions had over time made a remarkable accommodation to each others needs and religious harmony generally prevailed.

Further up from Hiniduma was Nelluwa and Lankagama which were virtually part of the Sinharaja reserve. On a visit there, the home of the finest kitul-treacle and jaggery in the country, some difficult terrain had to be negotiated. There were at least nine rather long edandas to cross. It was nerve wracking attempting to walk across this in single file with only a shaky railing to hold on to and keep you from falling, perhaps 25 feet down, into the little streams which gurgled merrily below.

In Lankagama I was confronted by the need for an access road at least if only to bring down the sick and the injured. Accidents were frequent with the fall of the kitul tappers and one young man I met had been rendered immobile for months having fallen from a tree while tapping trees in the jungle. The kitul trees were collectively owned by an elaborate system of usage which had been developed by the villagers themselves over time.

Sirimavo came for the opening of the Chinese Gin ganga project on completion in July 1974. I had given notice of my final retirement at that time and one of the reasons had been ostensibly my inability to work in the Sinhala language. I had, however, to give the vote of thanks in Sinhala at the celebrity opening. I made reference to a folk song current in the area which spoke of the havoc that had been caused to the people of Gangodapattu by the wilful antics of the Gin ganga in spate. The Sinhala verse went as follows:-

Gintota nandage duwaru hinda

Gangodapattuwa wana sen ne

(The entirety of Gangodapattuwe is being destroyed

By the wilful antics of the daughters of the aunt of Gintota)

Sirimavo was impressed enough by my vote of thanks to say to some of her members of parliament present at the opening that she couldn’t understand why my appeal to retire, on grounds of my inability to work in the official language, had been approved by the authorities.



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How Black Civil Rights leaders strengthen democracy in the US

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Jesse Jackson / Barack Obama

On being elected US President in 2008, Barack Obama famously stated: ‘Change has come to America’. Considering the questions continuing to grow out of the status of minority rights in particular in the US, this declaration by the former US President could come to be seen as somewhat premature by some. However, there could be no doubt that the election of Barack Obama to the US presidency proved that democracy in the US is to a considerable degree inclusive and accommodating.

If this were not so, Barack Obama, an Afro-American politician, would never have been elected President of the US. Obama was exceptionally capable, charismatic and eloquent but these qualities alone could not have paved the way for his victory. On careful reflection it could be said that the solid groundwork laid by indefatigable Black Civil Rights activists in the US of the likes of Martin Luther King (Jnr) and Jesse Jackson, who passed away just recently, went a great distance to enable Obama to come to power and that too for two terms. Obama is on record as owning to the profound influence these Civil Rights leaders had on his career.

The fact is that these Civil Rights activists and Obama himself spoke to the hearts and minds of most Americans and convinced them of the need for democratic inclusion in the US. They, in other words, made a convincing case for Black rights. Above all, their struggles were largely peaceful.

Their reasoning resonated well with the thinking sections of the US who saw them as subscribers to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, for instance, which made a lucid case for mankind’s equal dignity. That is, ‘all human beings are equal in dignity.’

It may be recalled that Martin Luther King (Jnr.) famously declared: ‘I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up, live out the true meaning of its creed….We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.’

Jesse Jackson vied unsuccessfully to be a Democratic Party presidential candidate twice but his energetic campaigns helped to raise public awareness about the injustices and material hardships suffered by the black community in particular. Obama, we now know, worked hard at grass roots level in the run-up to his election. This experience proved invaluable in his efforts to sensitize the public to the harsh realities of the depressed sections of US society.

Cynics are bound to retort on reading the foregoing that all the good work done by the political personalities in question has come to nought in the US; currently administered by Republican hard line President Donald Trump. Needless to say, minority communities are now no longer welcome in the US and migrants are coming to be seen as virtual outcasts who need to be ‘shown the door’ . All this seems to be happening in so short a while since the Democrats were voted out of office at the last presidential election.

However, the last US presidential election was not free of controversy and the lesson is far too easily forgotten that democratic development is a process that needs to be persisted with. In a vital sense it is ‘a journey’ that encounters huge ups and downs. More so why it must be judiciously steered and in the absence of such foresighted managing the democratic process could very well run aground and this misfortune is overtaking the US to a notable extent.

The onus is on the Democratic Party and other sections supportive of democracy to halt the US’ steady slide into authoritarianism and white supremacist rule. They would need to demonstrate the foresight, dexterity and resourcefulness of the Black leaders in focus. In the absence of such dynamic political activism, the steady decline of the US as a major democracy cannot be prevented.

From the foregoing some important foreign policy issues crop-up for the global South in particular. The US’ prowess as the ‘world’s mightiest democracy’ could be called in question at present but none could doubt the flexibility of its governance system. The system’s inclusivity and accommodative nature remains and the possibility could not be ruled out of the system throwing up another leader of the stature of Barack Obama who could to a great extent rally the US public behind him in the direction of democratic development. In the event of the latter happening, the US could come to experience a democratic rejuvenation.

The latter possibilities need to be borne in mind by politicians of the South in particular. The latter have come to inherit a legacy of Non-alignment and this will stand them in good stead; particularly if their countries are bankrupt and helpless, as is Sri Lanka’s lot currently. They cannot afford to take sides rigorously in the foreign relations sphere but Non-alignment should not come to mean for them an unreserved alliance with the major powers of the South, such as China. Nor could they come under the dictates of Russia. For, both these major powers that have been deferentially treated by the South over the decades are essentially authoritarian in nature and a blind tie-up with them would not be in the best interests of the South, going forward.

However, while the South should not ruffle its ties with the big powers of the South it would need to ensure that its ties with the democracies of the West in particular remain intact in a flourishing condition. This is what Non-alignment, correctly understood, advises.

Accordingly, considering the US’ democratic resilience and its intrinsic strengths, the South would do well to be on cordial terms with the US as well. A Black presidency in the US has after all proved that the US is not predestined, so to speak, to be a country for only the jingoistic whites. It could genuinely be an all-inclusive, accommodative democracy and by virtue of these characteristics could be an inspiration for the South.

However, political leaders of the South would need to consider their development options very judiciously. The ‘neo-liberal’ ideology of the West need not necessarily be adopted but central planning and equity could be brought to the forefront of their talks with Western financial institutions. Dexterity in diplomacy would prove vital.

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Grown: Rich remnants from two countries

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Mirissa (Image courtesy Wikivoyage)

Whispers of Lanka

I was born in a hamlet on the western edge of a tiny teacup bay named Mirissa on the South Coast of Sri Lanka. My childhood was very happy and secure. I played with my cousins and friends on the dusty village roads. We had a few toys to play with, so we always improvised our own games. On rainy days, the village roads became small rivulets on which we sailed paper boats. We could walk from someone’s backyard to another, and there were no fences. We had the freedom to explore the surrounding hills, valleys, and streams.

I was good at school and often helped my classmates with their lessons. I passed the General Certificate of Education (Ordinary Level) at the village school and went to Colombo to study for the General Certificate of Education (Advanced Level). However, I did not like Colombo, and every weekend I hurried back to the village. I was not particularly interested in my studies and struggled in specific subjects. But my teachers knew that I was intelligent and encouraged me to study hard.

To my amazement, I passed the Advanced Level, entered the University of Kelaniya, completed an honours degree in Economics, taught for a few months at a central college, became a lecturer at the same university, and later joined the Department of Census and Statistics as a statistician. Then I went to the University of Wales in the UK to study for an MSc.

The interactions with other international students in my study group, along with very positive recommendations from my professors, helped me secure several jobs in the oil-rich Middle Eastern countries, where I earned salaries unimaginable in Sri Lankan terms. During this period, without much thought, I entered a life focused on material possessions, social status, and excessive consumerism.

Life changes

Unfortunately, this comfortable, enjoyable life changed drastically in the mid-1980s because of the political activities of certain groups. Radicalised youths, brainwashed and empowered by the dynamics of vibrant leftist politics, killed political opponents as well as ordinary people who were reluctant to follow their orders. Their violent methods frightened a large section of Sri Lanka’s middle class into reluctantly accepting country-wide closures of schools, factories, businesses, and government offices.

My father’s generation felt a deep obligation to honour the sacrifices they had made to give us everything we had. There was a belief that you made it in life through your education, and that if you had to work hard, you did. Although I had never seriously considered emigration before, our sons’ education was paramount, and we left Sri Lanka.

Although there were regulations on what could be brought in, migrating to Sydney in the 1980s offered a more relaxed airport experience, with simpler security, a strong presence of airline staff, and a more formal atmosphere. As we were relocating permanently, a few weeks before our departure, we had organised a container to transport sentimental belongings from our home. Our flight baggage was minimal, which puzzled the customs officer, but he laughed when he saw another bulky item on a separate trolley. It was a large box containing a bookshelf purchased in Singapore. Upon discovering that a new migrant family was arriving in Australia with a 32-volume Encyclopaedia Britannica set weighing approximately 250 kilograms, he became cheerful, relaxed his jaw, and said, G’day!

Settling in Sydney

We settled in Epping, Sydney, and enrolled our sons in Epping Boys’ High School. Within one week of our arrival from Sri Lanka, we both found jobs: my wife in her usual accounting position in the private sector, and I was taken on by the Civil Aviation Authority (CAA). While working at the CAA, I sat the Australian Graduate Admission Test. I secured a graduate position with the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) in Canberra, ACT.

We bought a house in Florey, close to my office in Belconnen. The roads near the house were eerily quiet. Back in my hometown of Pelawatta, outside Colombo, my life had a distinct soundtrack. I woke up every morning to the radios blasting ‘pirith’ from the nearby houses; the music of the bread delivery van announcing its arrival, an old man was muttering wild curses to someone while setting up his thambili cart near the junction, free-ranging ‘pariah’ dogs were barking at every moving thing and shadows. Even the wildlife was noisy- black crows gathered on the branches of the mango tree in front of the house to perform a mournful dirge in the morning.

Our Australian neighbours gave us good advice and guidance, and we gradually settled in. If one of the complaints about Asians is that they “won’t join in or integrate to the same degree as Australians do,”  this did not apply to us! We never attempted to become Aussies; that was impossible because we didn’t have tanned skin, hazel eyes, or blonde hair, but we did join in the Australian way of life. Having a beer with my next-door neighbour on the weekend and a biannual get-together with the residents of the lane became a routine. Walking or cycling ten kilometres around the Ginninderra Lake with a fit-fanatic of a neighbour was a weekly ritual that I rarely skipped.

Almost every year, early in the New Year, we went to the South Coast. My family and two of our best friends shared a rented house near the beach for a week. There’s not much to do except mix with lots of families with kids, dogs on the beach, lazy days in the sun with a barbecue and a couple of beers in the evening, watching golden sunsets. When you think about Australian summer holidays, that’s all you really need, and that’s all we had!

Caught between two cultures

We tried to hold on to our national tradition of warm hospitality by organising weekend meals with our friends. Enticed by the promise of my wife’s home-cooked feast, our Sri Lankan friends would congregate at our place. Each family would also bring a special dish of food to share. Our house would be crammed with my friends, their spouses and children, the sound of laughter and loud chatter – English mingled with Sinhala – and the aroma of spicy food.

We loved the togetherness, the feeling of never being alone, and the deep sense of belonging within the community. That doesn’t mean I had no regrets in my Australian lifestyle, no matter how trivial they may have seemed. I would have seen migration to another country only as a change of abode and employment, and I would rarely have expected it to bring about far greater changes to my psychological role and identity. In Sri Lanka, I have grown to maturity within a society with rigid demarcation lines between academic, professional, and other groups.

Furthermore, the transplantation from a patriarchal society where family bonds were essential to a culture where individual pursuit of happiness tended to undermine traditional values was a difficult one for me. While I struggled with my changing role, my sons quickly adopted the behaviour and aspirations of their Australian peers. A significant part of our sons’ challenges lay in their being the first generation of Sri Lankan-Australians.

The uniqueness of the responsibilities they discovered while growing up in Australia, and with their parents coming from another country, required them to play a linguistic mediator role, and we, as parents, had to play the cultural mediator role. They were more gregarious and adaptive than we were, and consequently, there was an instant, unrestrained immersion in cultural diversity and plurality.

Technology

They became articulate spokesmen for young Australians growing up in a world where information technology and transactions have become faster, more advanced, and much more widespread. My work in the ABS for nearly twenty years has followed cycles, from data collection, processing, quality assurance, and analysis to mapping, research, and publishing. As the work was mainly computer-based and required assessing and interrogating large datasets, I often had to depend heavily on in-house software developers and mainframe programmers.  Over that time, I have worked in several areas of the ABS, making a valuable contribution and gaining a wide range of experience in national accounting.

I immensely valued the unbiased nature of my work, in which the ABS strived to inform its readers without the influence of public opinion or government decisions. It made me proud to work for an organisation that had a high regard for quality, accuracy, and confidentiality. I’m not exaggerating, but it is one of the world’s best statistical organisations! I rubbed shoulders with the greatest statistical minds. The value of this experience was that it enabled me to secure many assignments in Vanuatu, Fiji, East Timor, Saudi Arabia, and the Solomon Islands through the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund after I left the ABS.

Living in Australia

Studying and living in Australia gave my sons ample opportunities to realise that their success depended not on acquiring material wealth but on building human capital. They discovered that it was the sum total of their skills embodied within them: education, intelligence, creativity, work experience and even the ability to play basketball and cricket competitively. They knew it was what they would be left with if someone stripped away all of their assets. So they did their best to pursue their careers on that path and achieve their life goals. Of course, the healthy Australian economy mattered too. As an economist said, “A strong economy did not transform a valet parking attendant into a professor. Investment in human capital did that.”

Nostalgia

After living in Australia for several decades, do I miss Sri Lanka? Which country deserves my preference, the one where I was born or the one to which I migrated? There is no single answer; it depends on opportunities, prospects, lifestyle, and family. Factors such as the cost of living, healthcare, climate, and culture also play significant roles in shaping this preference. Tradition in a slow-motion place like Sri Lanka is an ethical code based on honouring those who do things the same way you do, and dishonour those who don’t. However, in Australia, one has the freedom to express oneself, to debate openly, to hold unconventional views, to be more immune to peer pressure, and not to have one’s every action scrutinised and discussed.

For many years, I have navigated the challenges of cultural differences, conflicting values, and the constant negotiation of where I truly ‘belong.’ Instead of yearning for a ‘dream home’ where I once lived, I have struggled, and to some extent succeeded, to find a home where I live now. This does not mean I have forgotten or discarded my roots. As one Sri Lankan-Australian senior executive remarked, “I have not restricted myself to the box I came in… I was not the ethnicity, skin colour, or lack thereof, of the typical Australian… but that has been irrelevant to my ability to contribute to the things which are important to me and to the country adopted by me.”  Now, why do I live where I live – in that old house in Florey? I love the freshness of the air, away from the city smog, noisy traffic, and fumes. I enjoy walking in the evening along the tree-lined avenues and footpaths in my suburb, and occasionally I see a kangaroo hopping along the nature strip. I like the abundance of trees and birds singing at my back door. There are many species of birds in the area, but a common link with ours is the melodious warbling of resident magpies. My wife has been feeding them for several years, and we see the new fledglings every year.  At first light and in the evening, they walk up to the back door and sing for their meal. The magpie is an Australian icon, and I think its singing is one of the most melodious sounds in the suburban areas and even more so in the bush.

 by Siri Ipalawatte

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Big scene for models…

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Modelling has turned out to be a big scene here and now there are lots of opportunities for girls and boys to excel as models.

Of course, one can’t step onto the ramp without proper training, and training should be in the hands of those who are aware of what modelling is all about.

Rukmal Senanayake is very much in the news these days and his Model With Ruki – Model Academy & Agency – is responsible for bringing into the limelight, not only upcoming models but also contestants participating in beauty pageants, especially internationally.

On the 29th of January, this year, it was a vibrant scene at the Temple Trees Auditorium, in Colombo, when Rukmal introduced the Grey Goose Road To Future Model Hunt.

Tharaka Gurukanda … in
the scene with Rukmal

This is the second Model Hunt to be held in Sri Lanka; the first was in 2023, at Nelum Pokuna, where over 150 models were able to showcase their skills at one of the largest fashion ramps in Sri Lanka.

The concept was created by Rukmal Senanayake and co-founded by Tharaka Gurukanda.

Future Model Hunt, is the only Southeast Asian fashion show for upcoming models, and designers, to work along and create a career for their future.

The Grey Goose Road To Future Model Hunt, which showcased two segments, brought into the limelight several models, including students of Ruki’s Model Academy & Agency and those who are established as models.

An enthusiastic audience was kept spellbound by the happenings on the ramp.

Doing it differently

Four candidates were also crowned, at this prestigious event, and they will represent Sri Lanka at the respective international pageants.

Those who missed the Grey Goose Road To Future Model Hunt, held last month, can look forward to another exciting Future Model Hunt event, scheduled for the month of May, 2026, where, I’m told, over 150 models will walk the ramp, along with several designers.

It will be held at a prime location in Colombo with an audience count, expected to be over 2000.

Model With Ruki offers training for ramp modelling and beauty pageants and other professional modelling areas.

Their courses cover: Ramp walk techniques, Posture and grooming, Pose and expression, Runway etiquette, and Photo shoots and portfolio building,

They prepare models for local and international fashion events, shoots, and competitions and even send models abroad for various promotional events.

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