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The Snake Charmer and the Princess

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By Jayantha Perera

The tall snake charmer with a thick moustache stared into my eyes and smiled. His eyes were large. His rugged, good looks were accentuated by long, black, curly hair that reached his shoulder. He had a flute-like instrument, which indicated he was a rodi (untouchable) snake charmer. He asked my permission to sit on the ground next to me. He smiled again and told me he was waiting for the children to come out of school to watch snake dances. I told him I was waiting for my friends to return. I was uneasy to see his two baskets in a dirty cloth rucksack.

The sun was intense, and the parched bed of the village reservoir behind the school looked like an over-baked cake with a broken, burnt crust. The clay at the bottom of the tank was exposed to the direct sun, and several people were cutting clay cubes to make bricks. Galgamuwa, where we were, had not received rain for several months.

Galgamuwa is a village on the Colombo-Jaffna railway line. About 50 years ago, the Galgamuwa railway station also functioned as a pola (village fair) for fresh vegetables. Farmers brought vegetables in small trays to sell to railway passengers. A vegetable tray contained eggplant, beans, bitter gourd, green chillies, and limes. The buyer emptied the tray and returned it with money to the seller, who was waiting on the platform.

I heard the school bell and saw children running out of classrooms onto the gravel road in front of the school. Some bought food from vendors, and about 20 boys gathered around us to see a snake dance. The snake charmer told them that he would charge five cents from each child. He boasted that he had a king cobra.

The snake charmer was not in a hurry. He tested his flute while searching for something in his rucksack. He showed me a piece of wood that looked like a chalk stick. He thanked deities for allowing him to show his cobras to innocent children. He removed the lid of one basket. The cobra in it was a long one with beautiful skin. The snake charmer played his flute at full throttle, and the cobra slowly started to unwind and move towards the wooden piece the charmer held in his hand.

One child shouted, “Look, look, the hood with a Sinhala ‘pa’ letter.” The cobra hissed angrily at its master when he withdrew the stick. After five minutes, the cobra returned to its basket. The children lost interest in the cobra and ran to school to play. Some of them did not pay for the show.

As the snake charmer lingered, a sense of unease settled over me. He carefully checked the two snake baskets, kept them on my left, and sat on my right. I kept one eye on the two baskets to check what the cobras in the baskets were doing. The snake charmer understood my fear and reassured me that the cobras were harmless and honourable, and some gods use them as their vehicle.

He told me that killing a cobra was equivalent to killing one’s father! His words, rather than comforting me, only added to my unease. I remembered my late father killing a cobra many years before and how some neighbours blamed him for killing it. When my father died soon after the killing of the cobra, a neighbour said my father paid the penalty for killing the reptile.

My Catholic upbringing taught me that a snake symbolised evil, as in the story of Adam and Eve. A snake had deceived and led them to eat a forbidden apple. As a result, they lost the chance to live in paradise on Earth. At the college chapel, there was a life-size statue of Mother Mary with her right foot on the head of a giant snake. According to my catechism teacher, God had told the snake that a woman would crush its head for the unforgivable crime he had committed in Eden by deceiving Adam and Eve.

I felt nervous to be in the company of two cobras and a snake charmer. I was more scared of the snake charmer than of the two cobras. I thought he would use a powerful mantra (charm) to harm or entice me to accompany him to his hulawali (a community of rodi people).

After a long silence, the snake charmer talked to me. He was hungry and begged for some food from me. I had half a packet of ginger biscuits and a bottle of water in my bag. I took three biscuits and gave him the remaining few, which he devoured with gratitude. He did not ask for water. He got up and went to the school water tap, leaving his flute and two snake baskets in my custody. When I saw a slight movement in one basket, I shouted for him to return.

When he returned, he was a happy man. He said that he could read my face and predict my future. He said I had two main aims – to study and protect my reputation. Then he explained how enemies planned to harm me. He also talked about my marriage and children. He became thoughtful and said that I might not stay in my first marriage and I might have a second marriage. I would have three children, and they would do well and remain loyal to me.

He predicted that I would leave my motherland soon, never to return. Then he boasted that if I were interested in any woman, he could help me with a powerful mantra to entice her. He winked at me and waited for me to respond. I did not respond. His predictions, though intriguing, only added to the mystery surrounding him. He told me the girls of his community were the prettiest because they were direct descendants of a Sinhala Princess called Ratnawalli – the daughter of King Prakramabahu. The King had expelled her from the court because she supplied human flesh, claiming it was venison. The snake charmer complained that the punishment was too harsh.

I asked him about his hulawali, family, and children. His hulawali would stay six months in Galgamuwa. They would move to another area before the rains started. He was married with two children. The children were teenagers, and he had taught them how to read palms and faces and predict the future. They never attended school. The marital age in his community was 12 years for a girl and 14 years for a boy. They followed matrilineal descent, and children were generally attached to their mothers.

The snake charmer checked the two baskets again and found the cobras happy and resting. He said, “Although people consider us untouchables and untrustworthy, we are connected with royalty.” He inquired whether I had any more food in my rucksack. When I said I hadn’t, he walked to the water tap and drank from it. He settled on the ground before me and told me a story about his ancestors.

His great-grandfather was known for his mastery of mantras. He was a simple, intelligent man and was next in line to become the community chief. One day, he was begging in a Kandyan aristocratic neighbourhood when he saw a young, pretty woman watching him from her balcony. He knew she was a member of one of the leading aristocratic families. He smiled, but she snapped at him and ran in.

The young man was sad, and for several days, he roamed in the vicinity of the girl’s mansion, trying to get a glimpse of her. He got angry with her when house servants told him not to stroll near the mansion. He prayed to his ancestors and vowed to bring the girl as his wife. He felt no purpose in living in this world without her by his side as his companion.

About a month later, he walked past the mansion and saw her again on the balcony. She, too, saw him and ran back to the house, screaming that a devil was trying to harm her. The house servants chased him away. He felt terrible and decided to camp in front of her home until her parents gave her to him.

The belief in the area was if a rodi man or a woman died in the vicinity of a high-caste neighbourhood, seven houses in the vicinity would become rodias. The girl’s parents and relatives offered the young man money, but he insisted that he would die in front of the house unless they handed her over to him. In the end, the parents gave their daughter to him. Then, to save face, they spread the rumour that she ran away with a stranger.

The story of the snake charmer’s great-grandfather triggered memories of a book I had read years ago as an undergraduate. The book was Amawathura, written by Gurulu Gomi in the 12th century. One chapter was on Dittamangalika (Pleasant Woman). I told the snake charmer the story.

Dittamangalika was from a wealthy family and was pretty, educated, and of high birth. Many young men wanted her hand in marriage, but she refused all of them. She found defects in their feet, hands, or faces. Once, she was going to the royal pond to bathe and heard a bell. She opened the curtains of her palanquin and saw a chandala (untouchable) young man on the road.

She shouted, “Oh, my eyes are now polluted. Bring water to wash my polluted eyes. Oh, I mentioned his caste name, and now my tongue is polluted. Is it my fate to see such an impure creature today? I do not want to go to the pond any more; take me home immediately to wash my eyes and mouth.” Her servants were angry with the young man because they lost an excellent opportunity to enjoy good food at the royal pond at her expense. They assaulted the young man and left him for dead.

Mathanga, the young man, thought thus: I suffered profusely in the hands of those hooligans because of that young woman. If I were a man, I would take her as my wife. He staggered to the front yard of the girl’s mansion and shouted, “If I get Dittamangalika as my wife, I will get up and go with her. If not, I will die here.”

The neighbours got alarmed and told her father, “Unless you hand over the girl to the Chandala boy, we will take her to him. If the fellow dies here, seven houses to the left and seven to the right will become untouchables.” Her parents reluctantly handed over the girl to Mathanga. He told her, “Your people have beaten me up. I am fragile, and my whole body is aching. Please carry me on your shoulder to our hut”. She carried him and walked to his small hut in the periphery of the town while onlookers jeered.

The snake charmer was delighted to hear the story. He said, “Look, as far back as a thousand years ago, we had contacts with royalty and the aristocracy. Now you know that we, too, are of royal descent.” He said, “In my community, a good storyteller could easily become its leader and win the most beautiful woman.” He requested that I visit his hulawali and repeat the story to his relatives and friends.

My colleagues arrived at the scene and were unhappy to see me conversing with a rodi snake charmer. One asked me, “How long have you been talking to this man?” I told him, “About three hours.” He said I should go through a purification process to remove any mantra the man had placed on me. Before lunch, he cut several lemons, rubbed them on my body, and told me to bathe at the well.

I could not sleep that night because I dreamt of cobras and a man in a white sarong who was trying to chase them away from me. Early the following day, the colleague who had shared the room with me told me that I had shouted several times in the night, saying naya, naya (cobra, cobra). My colleagues took me to a Buddhist temple at Galgamuwa to cleanse me of pollution and charm.

Before I explained what had happened, my friends rushed to relate the story to the chief monk. One said that the snake charmer tried to charm me using his black magic skills. He explained the circumstances – I was sitting on a large boulder, the cobras on my left, and the snake charmer on my right. He thought that arrangement showed that the snake charmer wanted to keep me where I was so that he could silently recite a mantra and charm me to take me to his community.

My friend asked the priest to redeem me from the black magic entrapment. The priest thought for a minute and started chanting pirith. At the end of the chanting, he tied a white string around my wrist and blessed me. He told me that no evil spirit or person would harm me any more. The priest did not forget to advise me that I should avoid snake charmers and beggars with many tricks to harm others.



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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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