(Continued from last week)

By Jayantha Jayewardene

Jackal

I have heard it said that the jackal has a unique way of getting rid of the ticks and fleas that get onto its skin and hide in its thick hair. It gets a piece of coconut husk in its mouth and wades into a stream with the husk held high. It goes deeper and deeper into the water till the drowning fleas all move up and get onto the husk, which is still above the water. Then the jackal releases the coconut husk into the water, thus drowning the fleas and then comes back to shore. I have not seen a jackal with a coconut husk or anything else in its mouth though I have seen many of them in the water.

Elephant legends

There is a legend that elephants, when they know they are going to die, proceed to the ‘elephant cemetery’. Most people, if any, have not seen these cemeteries but some believe that they do exist. When a sick or aging elephant is in discomfort, it looks for water and continues to stay close to this source because it is in constant need of water when in this condition. The elephant ultimately dies there and adds to the bones of other elephants that have ‘ gone before’.

Brohier (1971) mentions that he came across a place called Mahapelessa near Embilipitiya, where he found bones of dead elephants including one which had died about two weeks previously. He found ‘in one of the many pockets of this vast stretch of glade’ a spring from which gushed out plenty of water. This water was so hot that a hand could not be kept in it. He deduced that the animals had come for the therapeutic value of these thermal waters. Tests have shown that the water from these springs contains an excess of sodium and chloride. Elephants are known to be attracted to ‘salt licks’ wherever these are found in their jungle habitats.

I have been to Mahapelessa many times when I was working on the Mahaweli Development Project, Uda Walawe being one of my working areas. I have not seen any evidence of elephants dying there though they visited the place regularly.

When on a camping trip with Emil van der Poorten in Kantalai in the late 1950s, an interesting legend was related to me. An elephant is supposed to have trampled the young of the small quail, whose nest happened to be on its track. The elephant did not even realize that it had crushed the quail. However, the mother bird went and told the crow, the fly and the frog what had happened. They decided to teach the elephant a lesson. The crow pecked at the eyes of the elephant and the fly deposited its eggs in the wounded eyes. As a result, the elephant was blinded, and over a period of time it became very thirsty. The frog started croaking, and the elephant thus thinking that it was close to water, went towards the direction of the croaking. The frog then led the elephant to the edge of a precipice, over which it fell and was killed.

Coastal Veddhas

Since my association with the coastal Veddhas of Panichankerni was nearly 40 years ago, I had to consult my friend Emil van der Poorten for some details. Emil owned a house at Panichankerni, which we used regularly as a base for our forays into wild places. Though the coastal Veddhas that lived in Panichankerni were not considered true Veddahs at the time, Emil and I observed that they appeared to be quite different in their lifestyle when compared to the established Tamil and Muslim populations of the eastern coast and of course the better known Veddhas of Bintenne.

The houses of the coastal veddhas were far less substantial than those of the Tamils and the Muslims and they gave the impression that they were in transition from the thatched, mobile houses of the Veddahs and the gypsies, to the more permanent dwellings of the non-aboriginal settlers. They kept the gardens around their homes clean. The compounds were littered with the light sea sand found in Panichankerni and some of the other villages around.

The Veddhas subsisted on crops grown in their chenas, as well as collections of crabs, prawns and fish they caught by throwing their nets into lagoons and estuaries around them. I think they were responsible for setting up crab and prawn traps, known in Sinhala as kotuwa in the lagoon. We never saw them doing any canoe fishing in the ocean, and neither did they go out to sea as other communities did.

They relished the flesh of the land monitor (thalagoya) but did not seem to harvest honey, though they picked palu and weera fruit in season, as anyone who lived close to those forests would do. They appeared to place a very low priority on formal education, and the majority lacked functional literacy in Tamil, which was their spoken language. They did not seem to have any deep knowledge of the jungles in the area. I do not recall the presence of any trackers of note among them.

They did not have any contact with the Veddahs of Bintenne and its adjoining country. They have lived in coastal areas for a considerable period of time. I am not sure whether they owned the land they lived in or whether they were squatters on the land after they were prevented from leading a wandering existence by laws involving land tenure brought in by the British.

They did not seem to intermarry with the mainstream Tamils of the area. It may be that the latter with their caste system looked down upon the Veddahs. Apart from caste, this dissociation could also have been forced by an economic factor, namely poverty. It did not seem likely that Veddhas, who did not possess cattle, could have provided a dowry of any significance for their daughters. They appeared to be a relatively non-violent people who subsisted on the fruits of the jungle and produce from the lagoons and perhaps the sea.

A special feature of the many occasions we spent at Panichankerni was to go onto the reef at low tide during certain times of the year, and catch crawfish or rock lobsters. These were slightly smaller than the ordinary lobsters. The crawfish is a marine species, while the crayfish is a freshwater crustacean. One rare night we literally caught a sackful of rock lobsters. Since I was nursing a cartilage injury on my knee, Emil had to carry this load all the way back to our abode on the beach.

Kalu nika

The twig of the legendary plant kalu nika is supposed to help one to achieve eternal youth. However, a kalu nika plant is supposed to be something that is extremely difficult to find. It is believed that the crow pheasant, uses a twig or two of the plant (some say it is a root), to build its nest. If one finds this nest, it should be taken to a place where two rivers or streams meet and thrown into the water. The kalu nika twigs float upstream whilst the other twigs float downstream. However, the crow pheasant, being from the cuckoo family, does not build a nest but lays its eggs in that of another bird. All cuckoos are parasitic in their breeding habits.

Another variation that I heard with regard to obtaining kalu nika, is that one must find the nest of the crow pheasant with a chick in it. One leg of the chick should be fastened by a small chain to the bottom of the nest. The parent bird will then fly off to try and get a twig of kalu nika, which has the power of breaking the chain and setting the young bird free. The kalu nika is left behind in the nest and can then be collected. In this story the crow pheasant does not use kalu nika as material to build its nest

Devil bird

The controversy and mystery of the devil bird, known as ulama in Sinhala and pe-kuruvi in Tamil, have been unresolved for a very long time. Those who have been out in the jungles at night and heard this eerie cry credited to the devil bird will never forget it. It is a piercing cry that frightens and chills one to the bone. It has been likened, by many who have heard it, to a woman being strangled. I have heard this cry when we were camping at Padaviya, in North Central Province, but not having heard the cries of a woman being strangled, I cannot make the comparison. I have also heard this same cry in Panama on the south-east coast. The cry is nevertheless very frightening.

On both occasions the sound I heard was similar. The villagers who were with us said that the cry bore ill will and that something tragic would occur soon. Even if it did occur after we left, I did not hear about it.

However there are many others who have heard the devil bird but describe what they have heard as ‘a long drawn out hoo note, persistently repeated and then ending in a loud agonized and strangled sobbing. The sound struck sheer, stark inexplicable terror, and died away somewhat abruptly’.

At night in the jungle when we discuss the events of the day, old tales, legends and superstitions are recounted. The ulama and its cry come into the conversation from time to time. The villagers, especially the old stagers, have very firm opinions as to what the ulama is. However, who or what the ulama is varies from place to place.

One of the legends has it that there was a family in which the husband was a drunkard. One day when the wife was away, he killed their small daughter and cooked the flesh. On her return, he gave it to his wife to eat. She was serving herself with a wooden ladle when she came across a little finger. She immediately asked for her daughter and on seeing her grinning husband, realized what had happened.

She was distraught and sticking the ladle into her hair in despair, she ran out of the house into the jungle shouting ‘mage lamaya ko?’ (where is my child?). In another version it is said that the husband had brought home a hunk of flesh to be cooked. While the wife was cooking it the husband started to drink. Unfortunately the wife burnt the flesh and told her husband what had happened, expecting a severe reprimand from him.

However, he did not say anything but went back towards the jungle. In the garden he spotted their daughter playing. He killed her and brought a piece of her flesh to his wife to cook. When she was cooking this flesh unsuspectingly, she came across the daughter’s finger in the ladle. She then stuck the ladle into her hair which was tied in a knot at the back of her head and ran out shouting as in the earlier version.

The source of its eerie and frightening cry has been attributed to two or three birds. The two birds that most naturalists consider as culprits are the forest eagle owl and the crested hawk eagle, now known as changeable hawk eagle. This bird’s crest, according to legend, happens to be the handle of the ladle.

Korawakka or waterfowl

The waterfowl (korawakka) once went across the river to get some arecanut. (puwak). Since there were a number of bags of arecanut to be brought across the river, the waterfowl hired the boat belonging to the woodpecker. In the middle of the river, the boat capsized and together with the bags of arecanut sank to the bottom of the river. The wailing of the waterfowl and the woodpecker brought a flock of geese to their assistance. The geese dived in and tried to get the bags of arecanut up. However, due to the weight of the bags, the geese failed to lift them up, but in trying to do so, they stretched their necks. As a result, even to this day they carry long necks. Even now the waterfowl goes about calling puwak, puwak, puwak in search of its arecanuts and the woodpecker goes pecking from tree to tree in search of suitable wood to build himself a new boat.

Rumassala and Ritigala

When I was working in the Mahaweli Development Project at Kalawewa we used to regularly climb Ritigala, which was close by. Ritigala is now a Strict Nature Reserve. The higher you go the more changes you see in the vegetation and climate. The place abounds with bird life and unique plants.

Ramayana, the ancient Indian epic, states that Ravana the king of Lanka went to India and abducted beautiful Sita, the wife of Rama, and brought her to Lanka. Rama then came to Lanka to wage war against Ravana and take Sita back.

He brought with him a band of Vanaras, a tribe of ape-like creatures led by Hanuman. Rama was injured in the battle and Hanuman was sent to the Himalayas to bring back the herbs required for Rama’s recovery. On getting there he forgot what plants he was to bring and so he wrenched a whole chunk of the Himalayan soil including its vegetation, and started his return journey. On the way a part of this load of forest fell at Ritigala in North Central Province. The other piece was dropped off in Galle at what is now known as Rumassala.

Rumassala is next to Unawatuna, which is derived from onna watuna (there it fell). Galle is a name said to originate from gala or cattle pen, where Ravana kept his cattle. This particular place is now known as Pattiyamulla, where pattiya means herd of cattle.

Most of the flora in both these places are endemic. Ritigala is a lone mountain about 2,500 feet above sea level and rises from the plains of North Central Province. Rumassala abuts the sea and is on a hillock. Recent surveys have revealed 179 species of medicinal plants in Ritigala and 152 species in Rumassala.

Conclusion

The wild areas of Sri Lanka are rich in lore and legend. This makes one’s visits more interesting. These stories add spice to the camp gatherings at sundown when we recapitulate the day’s events, plan for the morrow and generally relax with friends in a congenial atmosphere. Sri Lanka is fast losing most of its exotic wilderness. We who have enjoyed going to these places for a long time should make every effort to ensure that they continue to exist for the future generations too.

References

Knox, Robert (1681) An historical relation of Ceylon, reprint 1958, Saman Press, Maharagama.

Brohier, R L (1971) Seeing Ceylon in vistas of scenery, history, legend and folklore, 2nd ed., Lake House Investments Ltd, Colombo.

(Concluded)