The Land of Lost Content E-Book

Sureshini Sanders

• Herausgeber: Vertebrate Digital
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Three children under the age of ten are left in the care of their elderly grandparents in the north of Ceylon. What was an unfortunate necessity transpires to be the making of them. They are last to experience a traditional way of life that was centuries old, before the onslaught of civil war changed everything forever. Their father was one of the many doctors who migrated to the United Kingdom in the sixties and seventies - with ?3 in his pocket. They followed in his footsteps and between them served the NHS for over one hundred years. This true story explores the love of country and family; a tale of betrayal, migration and above all human resilience.

Leseprobe

The Land of Lost Content

The Land of Lost Content

Sureshini Sanders

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www.v-graphics.co.uk

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For my children Daniel, Rohini,

Samuel, Rajan, Samira and Daniel Jr

and their children and their children

Into my heart an air that kills

From yon far country blows:

What are those blue remembered hills,

What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,

I see it shining plain,

The happy highways where I went

And cannot come again.

A.E. Housman

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 Paradise

Chapter 2 A Difficult Lady

Chapter 3 Sanders Master

Chapter 4 Welcome to the Handy Family

Chapter 5 Appah

Chapter 6 The Most Beautiful Girl in the World

Chapter 7 Love is a Many Splendored Thing

Chapter 8 Guru Vasa

Chapter 9 Descent to Chaos

Chapter 10 Goodbye Island in the Sun

Chapter 11 Paved with Gold

Chapter 12 A Black Man

Chapter 13 The Eye of the Tiger

Chapter 14 A Narrow Escape

Chapter 15 Does Your Mother Know?

Chapter 16 Return to Paradise

Chapter 17 How to Die

Chapter 18 The Germans are Coming

Chapter 19 Our Children

Chapter 20 The Killing Fields of Sri Lanka

Chapter 21Ye’ll tak the High Road

Appendix 1 Glossary

About the Author

Photographs

Acknowledgements

This must be the dullest part of any piece of literature. Who are these people and of what interest are they to the reader? The answer is probably of little interest, but these people are of great value to the author, who really could not have completed the book without them. So, thank you to Dave and Sandra Lennie for all their suggestions on this project and others. My proof-readers Catherine Park, Alex Crawford, Dr Robert Finnie, Dr Gillian Steele, Rohi and Rajan Shah. To my sister Rosh for all your love and support in all my ventures, you were right as always. I feel better now.

Finally, last but not least, to Prem Shah for the beautiful photographs painfully reconstructed. You brought my people back to life.

Chapter 1

Paradise

Have you ever noticed that if something is much loved, it can have many names? For example, mother, mum, mummy, ma or home, house, abode or dwelling place.

We came from a country with many names. Taprobane, Serendib, the Garden of Eden, Resplendent Isle, Pearl of the Indian Ocean, Ceylon, Sri Lanka, Teardrop.

Though once connected by the Palk Straits to India, we had long had our own distinct ways. Telling a Sri Lankan that he is Indian, is like telling a Scotsman that he is French. Britain is an island off France, and Ceylon an island off India; but we are quite different from one another.

When we were children, we thought it the most beautiful place in the world. It was tropical, lush, wet and bursting with life. There were spectacular glistening beaches, the sapphire ocean around us and waving palm trees. In the hill country it was cool, misty and mountainous, and in the north the red, dry earth could still sustain the magnificent palmyra tree; elegant, tall with fan-like palms. The scenery for such a small island was varied and breathtaking. Multicoloured, exotic birds the names of which I could never remember (much to the irritation of my teachers), flew over our heads.

The flora and fauna were like nowhere else and some of it unique to the island, as we had heat and water in abundance. If I shut my eyes and concentrate, I can still smell the overwhelmingly sweet perfume of the temple flower and recall the dazzling colours of the orchids, cannas, bougainvillea and the blood red shoe flower.

When we were little one of our most wicked preoccupations was to steal mangos and cherries from our neighbours. The mangos in the area were renowned and each tree bore fruit with a different flavour. Karuthu Columban and Navapallum were our favourites.

Before landing, holidaymakers to Ceylon would frequently be subject to a compulsory mini tour. The pilots would show off, rising high and then dipping low above the glittering blue waters and sun-kissed beaches. Passengers would feel as if they could touch the palm trees as they glided past. I was so proud once; surely this was the Garden of Eden and it was mine.

Being an island, the people evolved their own ways. Island peoples can be a little wayward. They do not have the body of the mainland to suffocate their desires and breathe conservatism into their veins. They are allowed to evolve and develop in whichever way they choose. I think it is marvellous to live on an island. Wherever you go and whatever you do, you can quickly make contact with the majestic and mysterious sea.

Even when we migrated to the UK it was the same. It must be claustrophobic to be landlocked. I suppose you could argue that you are then better able to travel and see the world but whether in Ceylon or Britain you can do that and still keep your neighbours at a distance. After all, we have not been set adrift and cut off like the poor souls in Australia. I think if I was surrounded by other countries I would feel threatened and less in control. Pest control, human and animal would become an issue, not to mention land theft.

In Ceylon much controversy arose when neighbours tried to extend their boundaries and re-negotiate land rights. The land was everything and commanded great respect -Ur:- Our land. Our God-given inheritance. The land was often inherited from forefathers. If you had it, like us, you were made and if you did not have it, life was not so good.

The island was also blessed with great resources: gems, tea, coffee, spices, paddy fields, coconut and rubber to mention but a few. In later years the rag trade and tourism also helped the economy. Marco Polo was so enamoured that it was he who coined the phrase ‘Pearl of the Indian Ocean’. In the fifties and sixties Ceylon was heading the way of Singapore in terms of its GDP and was in direct competition. We all had great hopes for the future. We were the Jewel of the East. We had not had the struggle for independence like India. We were not weary.

You have to leave a place to realise how small it really is. When you have never seen anything else, your world is enormous. In the days when I lived in a small world, I thought myself very important. You have to get out a bit and walk around ‘in another man’s shoes’ to know better. Sri Lanka is a small pearl shaped island: 268 by 139 miles, just north of the equator in the Indian Ocean. It has a population of about 21 million. Only 2 million of her peoples are Tamil and only 10 per cent of this group Christian. As Tamil Christians, that made us a minority in a minority, in a small country.

The days were long and languid and there were only two seasons, rainy season and not rainy season. The weather was never a topic of conversation. I enjoy the four seasons in Scotland so much now and cannot imagine a life without them. As a small island we always had the benefit of sea breezes and the temperature ranged from 24-32 degrees centigrade. I loved the tropical rain which would descend and vanish so unexpectedly. I loved to get soaked and then would gaily march into the house leaving wet footprints, driving my grandfather wild.

The humidity is not so good however; some people found it hard to tolerate but it never bothered me. My main complaint now is that I am always cold. If you speak to people born in the tropics they will often tell you the same, no matter how long they have been away. I am forever waging battle with the cold and lack of sun. On my nostalgic days I go to Butterfly World in Edinburgh, shut my eyes, and am transported back.

We were descendants of the Indus Valley civilisation. In 1600 B.C. Aryans on horseback rode into and destroyed our refined cities. They did not understand our drainage systems or agricultural concepts. Our ancestors moved south and took to the seas, later trading with the Greeks and Romans. Our kingdoms flourished particularly in the Chola, Chera and Pandya eras. People had been living on the island since five thousand BC. Various invaders left their footprint, the Portuguese, Dutch and then the British. The Vedas were the original people on the island and both the Sinhalese and Tamil people came to the island hundreds of years before the birth of Christ. There were Moors on the west coast, descended from Arab traders, Malays and Burghers of Eurasian origin. Many other ethnic groups also lived in Ceylon.

When I was young, just about every day seemed a public holiday as Buddhist, Hindu, Christian and Muslim festivals were all given homage. Ceylon made the most of its foreigners, with much ebbing and flowing of ideas, customs, language, food, dress and marriage. It was a melting pot of forward thinking people, ready to evolve and embrace all that the world had to offer. It seemed as if we had the necessary ingredients to become a very successful little island.

Broadly speaking the Tamils lived in the arid north and the Sinhalese in the fertile south. However, this was not cut and dry; there was a lot of coming and going in those days and it had been so for thousands of years. They said that if you sat on your porch and threw a handful of seeds, they would grow in the south of Ceylon. This made the people here very relaxed and easy going, for life was good. Foreign travellers over the ages always commented that the locals were friendly and hospitable.

The Sinhalese spoke the Sinhala language which when written, is exquisite in appearance, curly and quite distinctive. The Tamils spoke Tamil, an ancient language thought to be 25,000 years old and one of the oldest languages in the world still spoken. We speak it differently from the South Indians however. Whenever I try to speak in Tamil when in India, people say, ‘You’re Sri Lankan aren’t you?’

‘How do you know?’ I reply in surprise.

‘Because you people do not know how to talk properly!’

If you ever observe the Ceylonese, they vary from pale to dark brown. Pale is vellai which is desirable and means you are not a labourer, hence rich enough to stay out of the scorching sun. You probably spend endless hours on the veranda, gossiping and eating too many cashew nuts. Dark is undesirable or Karrupu this probably means you are a labourer. The world is an extraordinary place, where the pale nations want to be dark, as it implies you can afford foreign travel, and the dark nations want to be pale. All these differences were once celebrated, but later became the source of our troubles.

We had sun everywhere, every day, and used to keep away and hide in our cool stone houses. My daughter sunbathes, which I find hilarious. “You will become karrupu!” I shout. She really has no concept of such thoughts and what they may mean to me.

Families engaged in trade or professions. In our family we were ministers, teachers and doctors. Other families were involved in business or agriculture. Everyone generally kept to what they were born to do.

Well off families had live-in servants who could either be treated well, as part of the family, or badly. Servants often served their families for generations. I would like to think that we treated our servants well but looking at this system now, I can see that this was inherently unfair. The positives are that there was a responsibility placed upon wealthier families to look after poorer families over generations. The servant classes were to some extent suppressed and upward mobility was difficult and limited.

Buddhism is practised predominantly by the Sinhalese and is the main religion in Ceylon. It preaches peace, love, tolerance and non-harm to all living things. The island is dotted with ancient dagobas with their distinctive dome-like forms. These are generally in the South but some that were 2000 years old were found in the North as well. Hinduism also preaches peace, love, tolerance and non-harm. Hindu Temples tended to belong to the Tamils in the North. They were completely different; colourful, peaked structures, with amazing statues carved on to them. In contrast, the Christian churches were rather humble. As a child, I loved all religions because they meant school holidays, festivals and food.

In previous centuries when our kingdom flourished you could see this acceptance and understanding as Buddhist and Hindu icons stood side by side in the ancient city of Polonnaruwa, and Hindu gods stood guard over moonstones. This was an eleventh century city but Anuradhapura, at fourth century BC was older still.

We were more civilised then and our country, with many different kingdoms and kings, flourished. The ruins of palaces can still be seen, some of which were several stories high. There was even a Tamil king on a Sinhala throne at one point and intermarriage commonly occurred to secure lands and kingdoms.

In these early times frescos depicted exotic voluptuous female figures. I always found them strange, as they looked like no one I knew. Had we so changed through the centuries?

Traditionally men wore cotton sarongs to keep themselves cool but now-adays these traditional outfits tend to be for festivals and special occasions. The women wear saris but the Sinhalese ladies have a distinct way of dressing it, with a fan to one side. The fabrics are vast in range and quality but I do think a ban should be imposed on plump elderly ladies wearing them. The sari is very elegant but as it takes me half an hour to put on properly, intricate complex folds which never come right, I do not bother. The other drawback is that it is not easy to move around in and if you, like me, are accident prone and step on it, you can suddenly find yourself compromised as six yards of silk cascade to the floor.

My paternal family lived in Nallur in the north and were surrounded by their own kind. This inheritance was to be both the making and the breaking of our small close knit community. For many years it had been that way for my family. We grew up in a secure environment and everyone knew everyone through marriage, work, school or church. If you misbehaved, aunty was sure to tell your mother or any other relative she could get hold of.

Our house was always full of chatter and heaving with visitors and relatives. Most educated people spoke in English so that all parties could be understood. My parents chose to live in the south of the island, in Colombo, where I was born. My first language was Sinhala, then English and lastly Tamil. Language only lives if it is spoken and now I speak only English fluently, which is a source of regret and shows what little progress I have made linguistically in my life.

My mother seemed to spend vast quantities of time in our cooled store rooms or larder, instructing servants on the preparation of various foods. Meals were always a big affair with a large breakfast, morning coffee, lunch, tea and a modest dinner to organise daily. Everything was freshly prepared and ‘old food’ was frowned upon. We ate voracious quantities but were still slim because we were always out and about and sweated it off!

As well as enjoying all my meals I also loved the rolls and patties that my grandmother used to make. We have many unusual foods in Ceylon, but it took me thirty years and a trip to Portugal to realise that we had adapted some of these from our invaders. It is unlikely that they stole these ideas from us and that these were then adopted by the whole Portuguese nation. Even then I used to eat until I felt sick, and my grandmother used to say, ‘Child, you must stop yourself before you are totally full or your belly will ache.’

You rarely had a moment to yourself unless you were ill or being eccentric. I accepted that then and found it reassuring but as I get older I think this may have started to bother me. Our visitors came from the many ethnicities within the island, as my parents had an eclectic mix of friends. Some of our visitors would stay for dinner uninvited. If anyone did this now, I would be quite irritated but catering is easy with servants. If you feel so inclined, you too could reciprocate and intrude upon your neighbours and family in similar fashion. It was a tradition.

Mostly we spent our days with an early rise, going to school or work, afternoon nap, then back again. Eating took forever and lunch was the most important meal of the day. A lot of time was spent on the veranda with family and friends, as were the holidays. Uncles and aunts would go abroad to obtain post graduate degrees in the UK or Singapore but they always came home in the end. If you were poor you just stayed where you were and hoped that God would be kinder in the next life.

In those days, the biggest battles were fought on the cricket pitch. This was a national obsession and school boys from the leading island schools of Royal and Thomian would have long, heated debates about who was best and why. I still smile recalling two of my male cousins, who were at different schools, and though on very good terms generally, when it came to this issue nearly came to blows.

Darkness descends quickly in the tropics; before you know it the sun has crashed, exhausted, and embraced the horizon. The day is done. Wherever we ventured we knew most people in our area, so we never worried about our safety. Eventually someone would send word that the cricket games were to be wound up and we had to go home.

There was no TV at night but we could read or play carroum or cards. If we were very lucky one of my cousins, who was a fantastic cartoonist, would turn up. She was a crack animator and provided free entertainment for all. There were also cousins who played the piano or sang or danced or told stories. In fact there was a cousin for just about everything.

Sundays meant church, lunch and quiet time, except for more visitors. If you were really good there may have also been a trip to an ice cream parlour or the latest movie imported. Most people could afford some treats as we were a country without the extremes of wealth and poverty in the fifties and sixties.

Nothing moved fast. It was a pattern of life that had been the same for generations. We lived and studied and worked mostly in the same areas and when we died we were all buried together at St James’ in Nallur, Jaffna. When we went to church, I used to imagine that at night all my dead relatives would rise up and start chattering over each other, as they did in life. I thought to myself, ‘I’ll be joining you one day, but not today.’

I visited the graveyard in 2005 – it looked dreadful, ancient and musty. An empty place where the dead lay uncared for, by a people long gone.

For we had no idea, or maybe we did and ignored it, that this Utopia would all come suddenly to an abrupt halt. Everything would change forever and we would be flung all over the globe, never to return. The idyllic lives we had enjoyed were to be no more. Our resplendent island in the sun, our pearl of the Indian Ocean, was about to be transformed to a teardrop of sorrow.

Chapter 2

A Difficult Lady

What drives a person to give up everything they know because of their calling or religion? Does it show a selfish, arrogant individual with little regard for the feelings of others, or maybe a free spirit who is inspired and has no fear?

One action can change the entire course of a family’s destiny. Women are powerful creatures. For all the saris and jewels and gentle curves, many of the Sanders women knew exactly what they wanted. Their charge was the most important task of all; the care of their children and family.

My great-great-grandmother was born in the early 1800s, in Jaffna, the largest region in the north. Dates are vague before this because Hindus do not regard birthdays as important, in the way that Christians do. I suppose if you are planning to be reborn several times, it is of little significance in the grand scheme of things.

In contrast, Christians were diligent at documenting records and keeping paperwork. Hindus relied more on oral history. The bombing of the Jaffna library resulted in the destruction of all our ancient documents and the disbanding of our people so I will never be able to go back further than my great-great-grandmothers. This was a moment of genius, which ethnically cleansed us of our history. All I know is that we were Hindu and well off. We were probably involved in business ventures and our name was Manikam. My great great-grandmothers came from the districts of Uduvil and Tellipallai.

I do not even know the first name of my Sanders great-great-grandmother but she became Mrs Manikam and had a son. She was a free thinker and at that time an American missionary by the name of Rev. Sanders was preaching in the north of the island. She fell under the spell of a loving, forgiving God, who treated all men as equals. Her husband was understandably unhappy about this, for there was no need for her to stand shoulder to shoulder with low-caste people and accept this fantasy. She in her wisdom kept attending Rev. Sanders’ sermons, as did one of her friends.

In exasperation poor Mr Manikam threatened to throw her out but she was ‘not for turning’. She not only left with her son, but changed her name to Sanders, a Christian surname. Her friend did much the same and thus it was that there came to be two Sanders families in Ceylon, as it is to this day. They are not related in any way, save by the faith of these ladies. The other Sanders family went into the police force in the main and were renowned sportsmen. I remember once seeing a picture in a magazine of one of them; a very dapper young man. I was disappointed to find that we were not related. We were a much more sedate crowd involved in the church, teaching and medicine.

If you ever see an Asian with a name that does not match his appearance, especially if it is a biblical name like Joseph, Mary or David, the odds are that they are Christian, not that this has been a recent name change with migration.

In one action my great-great-grandmother deprived her child of a comfortable existence and chose instead a calling to God, a life of the spirit and financial instability. Did she ever have regrets? Who knows?

She named her son Joseph Manikam Sanders.

I still cannot understand why her husband did not put up more of a fight, or at least insist that his son remain in his care. Perhaps he thought it was easier to write them both off as a mistake and start again. In another account of this tale Mrs Manikam is widowed and then takes her leave upon her husband’s death. Even so, I am amazed that no one tried to stop her.

Her actions changed our fate. From then on we were to be Christian and out of sync with the majority of the island who were either Buddhist or Hindu. Would we still be there today if not for her? Would we have been gone altogether?

Two types of people converted to Christianity: there were those who saw greater opportunity, especially because a lot of the mission schools offered better education and prospects of employment irrespective of caste, and those who truly believed. The British Empire promoted the Christian faith.

Mrs Manikam and her son lived and worked in the American Mission. She made great friends with a lady called Susan Perinbam, nicknamed ‘Bible Susan’. This lady was quite a convincing preacher and went around the district assisting the minister and converting people. Mrs Manikam seems to have had a quieter life once in the Mission. Susan had a daughter called Emily who became Joseph’s dearest playground companion. To the mothers’ delight, as they came into adult life, they decided to marry and Joseph became a minister having completed a theology course at Jaffna College.

Emily was the ideal minister’s wife. She had spent some time in the Christian Girls’ Boarding school at Udupiddy and so this, and her mother’s teachings, imbibed a yearning for evangelism. She later became headmistress of the Station Girls’ School and assisted her husband ably in church work.

They said of Joseph that although he was a good preacher, many people were attracted to the faith because of his wife’s singing. At moonlight meetings her alluring voice would help gather the crowds.

Emily facilitated in educating the local girls and encouraged them to useful employment. She also started a sewing circle, which was like a modern day women’s guild. Here women gathered and chatted and supported each other. They became empowered together.

The Mission compounds were the centre of all village activity and often the pastors were the only people who were English speaking and hence were influential in mediating between the local population and the British government.

Joseph also helped to translate local and foreign news and government circulars for publication in the Tamil Biweekly.

His greatest achievement, however, was to secure the funding for the building of the Atchuvely Church. He chose a site where the remains of a four hundred year old Portuguese church once stood in Atchuvely, a town in north Jaffna. This brought on the wrath of prominent Catholic and Hindu members of the district but he was not to be deterred.

His wife worked her charm on the ladies of the community too and eventually their dreams were realised; they even managed to get the opposition to attend church on a few occasions and converted some of their children! The church stands to this day and in 1887 Joseph became its pastor. It is not large but quaint and within its walls an orphanage exists ‘to help the helpless’. It is in this church that several generations of Sanders children were christened for nearly one hundred years, until 1970.

Joseph and Emily had a fruitful marriage and seven children over twenty years, three sons and four daughters. My grandfather David was their second son, and schooled in Jaffna College. He then travelled to Calcutta where he became an arts graduate from Calcutta University in 1919, as it was a centre of excellence in South East Asia. Subsequently he trained in The University College, Colombo too.

Jaffna College was an American Mission School and one of the leading institutions in the north of Ceylon. The three Sanders brothers were fiercely loyal to their alma mater and all taught there. Between them, the Sanders served the school for over one hundred years. Samuel, the eldest became the bursar; my grandfather, vice-principal and Daniel, the first scout and games master of the college.

Joseph died when nearly sixty, which was not a bad innings, as globally the average age for demise in the early 1900s was mid-forties.

His wife survived for nearly two decades after him. The blight of her latter life was that their brightest and most handsome youngest son, Daniel, died ten years before her.

He had taken a group of boys on a scouting trip and contracted typhoid. He was in his twenties and had never married. Several children over the generations have been named after him, and in truly unimaginative style I currently have two nephews both called Daniel. So, the original has lived on in a way he may not have imagined. My grandfather adored his youngest brother and even in old age would become silent and pensive if asked about him.

Of Joseph’s and Emily’s four daughters, one married another Jaffna College master. One had a husband who sounds as if he had mental health issues and wrote laborious letters to Churchill and another wed my grandmother’s older brother. The favourite of all however, became a Mrs Richards. Her husband died when she was young but rather than mourn the rest of her life, she got on with a show of great independence and became a source of love and support to all around her.

Her home was a haven for her nieces and nephews and she mothered and spoilt them all in turn. She inherited her parents’ house in Atchuvely and when she died gifted it to one of her nephews. For some reason a number of Sanders wives have often ended up alone or bereaved early, even in this generation. They have generally shown great stoicism and proven themselves very resilient. Unlike on my mother’s side, no one ever remarried.

Emily remained in Atchuvaly till her death in 1930. During this period she continued to lead the mothers meeting regularly every Tuesday and teach in Sunday school.

The role of Ceylonese women has evolved a lot in the last three decades. From mothers, wives, daughters and sisters we have been transformed into main bread winners and ‘freedom fighters’ with the onslaught of civil war.

Women in Ceylon were thought to be quite liberated, even hundreds of years before. Ancient travellers were horrified that our women sat on the porch with their men folk and were included in discussions on all topics of conversation. They were also disgusted to see that these ‘brazen’ ladies of all ages exposed their arms and midriffs. (How times have changed and these garments are now thought of as demure, if not submissive.)

The task of mothering was regarded as being the most important and then the role of wife, daughter or sister. Interestingly it is the women who inherit the land in Ceylon, which on reflection is probably a bad idea, as then it was lost to the family. The British system of giving the land to the oldest son, though harsh, keeps it in the family, so to speak. Our land was divided, so once a father split this between his daughters, it and all its assets, were quickly disbanded. Depending on the number of daughters, this could happen in one generation.

It was assumed in those times that a woman did not work, and so the gifts of land and jewellery upon marriage afforded ladies leverage and position. Men worked and did not marry until later, once they had established an income. This all seems good and fair but the system became corrupt as families insisted on a ‘dowry’ and even working girls were expected to provide this. Though the caste system operated, it was more loosely binding than in India. Nevertheless people tended to marry within their caste. The highest caste were the priests or Brahmins. We had no untouchables. Foreigners would be thought of as no caste, rather than low caste, which I am sure, was a great consolation to them!

The literacy rate in Ceylon was one of the highest in Asia and women benefitted from this. It was only in the seventies however that it became common place for women to work. In my mother’s generation being a mother, caring for your relatives and running a good home was what was expected.

Food was all important; providing for all who came your way and out-shining each other with culinary prowess. I think the pendulum has swung too much the other way now, as women across the world attempt to multi-task and do all of this, as well as hold down a full time job.

One of my heroes, Jamie Oliver, has exposed poor school meals. I too believe a good diet is one of life’s essentials and one of our greatest responsibilities as women is to feed our children. The epidemic of obesity and inertia is partly due to our absence from the home. Men have rarely embraced this role in the past and I remain to be convinced that many of them will desire it in the future. Perhaps we need to accept this and find a better way forward.

I am no saint in this matter. In spite of knowing better, I too have microwaved meals, shoved children in front of a box and taken a plethora of parenting short cuts, and always for a good reason.

I think life then was easier for all concerned in some ways, as roles in the past were so clearly defined. It could be argued that we did not have much choice, but too much choice leads to chaos. Many of these systems have remained unchallenged for centuries partially because they work.

Mothers taught their daughters how to dress and cook and behave. Fathers instructed their sons. Now we leave it to the soaps and reality television. In Ceylon the civil war led to a breakdown of many of the old ways.

Daughters rather than sons were also expected to care for their parents. In India it is the reverse and so I said to my children, ‘How lucky I am, since you are half and half. You will both be fighting to care for me.’ They replied that as they live in Scotland, they would be sure to check me into a nice nursing home!

This caring role on top of everything else is very difficult for women, as employers globally want reliable service and domestic issues are your problem, not theirs.

Women then and to some extent now, rarely rose to the top of their professions. There was clearly discrimination afoot but many women simply did not want to, as they saw their role at work as secondary to their role at home.

And yet Ceylon elected the first female prime minister in the world, so that must say something. The Tiger movement also ‘boasted’ the first unit of female freedom fighters in the world. Luxurious black locks were cut and saris and bangles were swapped for khaki and cyanide capsules. It is so sad to think that these lovely young things felt that this was the only way forward. They lost their youth, and many their lives for the cause.

The women and men of Sri Lanka have suffered much hardship and, a bit like British women after the Second World War, it is difficult to go back to the way things used to be.

I wonder what Mrs Manikam would think, if she could see her offspring now. Once troubles broke out it was easier for us as Christians and English speakers to migrate to places like Britain, Australia and America. We have all integrated quickly into these countries and moved on with our lives.

If we had remained Hindu, would we still be there today, struggling away, a subjugate people in a war-torn land?

You could argue that we have become ‘coconuts’. That is ‘brown on the outside and white on the inside’. Once you have abandoned your land, language, dress and much of your diet, what exactly makes you Ceylonese?

Of Mrs Manikam’s female descendants there are doctors, accountants and engineers. Some have married and some have not, some have children and some have not. There is quite a range to choose from and much to be proud of but have we really done well, as we have abandoned many of our traditional values?

The unpaid task of being a mother or carer is so undervalued and yet in many ways is the most unselfish and loving of labours. As we have entered ‘a modern world’, we seem to have been abandoned, to do it all. Many of our female ancestors were supported and cherished. Today we are less looked after and frequently over stretched.

When my mother had her children she was pampered and protected for the first six weeks postpartum. There was enormous support given by relatives. Grandmothers would arrive and cooks would be instructed to concoct protein rich meals to build up the new mother. The baby was often removed to give her peace and rest, so my mother rapidly became plump and inert.

Many mothers now are expected to get on with it and return to work post haste. No surprise therefore that a number get depressed, sleep deprived and miserable.

I wonder how my ancestor managed by herself. The church was all embracing and would have looked after her I am sure and she gave back, in a sense, with her son who served the church. No doubt women then suffered in silence sometimes and certainly had less opportunity than we do but everything comes at a cost.

The civil war has held women back in Sri Lanka. Many have lost their lives and some their children or men folk. Perhaps in time they will find their place again.

My daughter tells me often ‘Whatever happens mum, I really don’t want to be like you.’ So good to inspire the young. She does not want to be like grandma either and stay at home. Maybe the next generation will get it right and find a middle path. We can only live in hope.

Chapter 3

Sanders Master

My grandfather was born on the 27th of November 1892. He was the fifth child and second son of Joseph and Emily. They called him David Selvamankian Sanders.

He was headstrong, even as a child and much pampered by his elder sisters. Dutiful and diligent he studied in Jaffna College from the age of thirteen and served the school until the end of his working life.

He was sinewy and, for a Ceylonese in those days, tall at 5' 10". The school, keen to promote and keep him, funded his training at Calcutta University.

In those days people feared foreign travel. His parents worried that he would enjoy a one way trip, but it proved not to be so. He returned to teach, majoring in mathematics, ethics, English and Latin. He remained loyal to Jaffna College for all of his life, even in times of strife and when others may have jumped ship. He felt the college had been responsible for his education and he would give back all he could.

Today we all move around and such loyalties are rare. We talk of portfolio careers and opportunities but the concept of lifelong service has long gone. Likewise, institutions are less loyal to employees, hiring and firing without a care.

Grandfather was a somewhat stern but fair individual and much respected by his pupils. He, like my father could be at once sarcastic and hilarious. A good debate was an aperitif to him and he was the Patron of the Brotherhood – Senior Literary Society.

He also became warden of the Inner Hostel of Jaffna College, and president of the Y.M.C.A. He felt great responsibility for his charges and if someone had a problem and could argue their case, he would find a solution to their difficulties.

On one occasion there was a demonstration about the poor quality of food on campus. As war time rations caused a challenge to the cooks, an impasse was forming between them and the students. The students then started to get quite rowdy and there was a lot of shouting and banging of pots and pans. My grandfather was called to deal with this rabble and made his inquiries about the nature of the complaint. Having decided that they were justified, he instructed the serving of mutton, a great treat at the time, and received a standing ovation. From then on he took a personal interest in the diet of his students and bore no grudges against the ring leaders, even though he always knew who they were!

He was often seen walking along the corridors of the school in measured steps in full suit of darker shades. On entering the class he would write down the maths problems for the day. The pupils would laboriously attempt to work these out and he would rattle out a solution with no reference to books or notes. I think I may have struggled in his classes.

When he taught at Jaffna College, we heard that the pupils used to sing:

D.S. Sanders master, enna cholar am

Quaduratic equation chai a cholar am

Copy pani condu carta a naught a potar am

To paraphrase, this means when he asked you to do your equations, if you cheated, he smiled quietly because he somehow always knew and simply gave you nothing for your efforts.

This chant also leads me to explain something else about Ceylon. Many were trilingual and so the spoken word seamlessly included Sinhala, Tamil and English. For example ‘Hello darling be a kunchu (‘dear’ in Tamil) and bring me vathura’ (‘water’ in Sinhala).

He also enjoyed teaching ethics, with the spiritual background of his forefathers. I sometimes wonder why he did not become a minister himself.

In those days masters were much respected and virtually lived, worked and socialised within the grounds of the school. One of his pupils said of him that he was ‘always correctly attired, full of poise, dignity and uprightness, ever punctual and devoted to duty. He wielded great influence over his students and won their respect and esteem.’

The time eventually came when a new principal was to be elected in Jaffna College. My grandfather was never a demonstrative man and did not believe in pushing himself forward or flashy campaigns. Here he made a critical error, as this left some wondering if he actually wanted the job. He felt that he had given his life to the college and that his credentials were self-explanatory. But he was described by colleagues as ‘shunning ambition’.

One of his former pupils, a Mr Selliah, was not quite so shy however and canvassed long and hard. Needless to say he then went on to become the first national principal of Jaffna College. This must have broken my grandfather’s heart but he said nothing and continued his service and assisted Selliah in all matters without bitterness. He was offered posts as principal in other schools but such was his loyalty that he stuck as vice-principal until the end. Had it been me, I would have jumped ship in humiliation.

You cannot put a good man down, however, and right at the end of his working life, he was given the prestigious post of inspector of American Mission Schools.