Jaffna in 1889, Sri Lanka

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Memories of long ago

“The gram sellers at Galle Face Green sold their 'kadala gottu' topped with 'isso wade' for twenty-five cents .
The movie goers at Savoy cinema came out; Couples went to Aleric's for ice cream and families miserly budgeted for Chinese fried rice at Golden Gate .
Gunawardena opened batting for the Tamil Union and Sunderalingam kept wickets for the Sinhalese Sports Club .
This was once nostalgic Sri Lanka on easy street sans the raging war and the terrible turmoil; 'The way it used to be' .
The 'Yal Devi' took the Madhu pilgrims and the 'Ruhunu Kumari' carried the Kataragama clan. Marawila fishermen fished at Mullativu with the monsoon change and Lever's and Reckitt's Sales Reps sold toothpaste in Jaffna and drank 'Tal Raa' whilst bathing in the Keeramalai tank .
The Vel cart used to come down Wellawatte and the waiters worked double time at the Sarasvati Lodge .
The differences were there from the North to the South, but who cared ?
Nobody killed anyone. There was a life, simple and in peace .
Bala Tampoe took the CMU out on strike every year and the Parliament changed colours every five years with mythological promises . That was acceptable .
The queues got long at the CWE to buy 'Jumping Fish' and the bread prices leapt like high jumpers. Those were our big problems .
The smiles were there too, affordable to the all and sundry, beat shows and big matches, sports meets and school carnivals, all within a ten-rupee budget .
Fashion-wise, the pinnacle was the CR-Havies Match at Longdon Place; the Suzettes and Claudettes were there, dazzling in mini skirts, making
their best attempts to get partnered to go to the Coconut Grove and jingo and jive to the Jetliners .
Some made it to Akasa Kade too, to eat egg hoppers and hold hands and become more naughty whilst pretending to be watching the ship lights at
the Colombo harbour .
There was peace; it was a long long time ago. That was before the Morris Minor taxis changed their English alphabet number plates .
Then came the carnage. Who's to blame? Don't waste time, that's kicking the moon and corralling clouds .
We all know better. We are all to be blamed, some for cheering and others for their silence. It has always been 'our soldiers' - but it is their war .
The guns are silent now and the talks go on and hope seeps slow like a weed-clogged wave. If the Gods are kind, we'll have peace. Let it lie there .
North and East must be separate 'Don't give this', 'can't have that', 'autonomy? what nonsense?' Such passionate phrases bellow from borrowed patriotism . 'My son has to study', 'No no, not to join the Air Force', 'Army? Are you mad?' The same voices add the contradictions 'We must continue to fight at any cost'. Brave words, quite cheap too when rights and wrongs are just 'whys' sprouting out from empty opinions on even emptier forums .
Try telling all that to mothers who buried their sons or children who pray for their missing fathers .
Voice it to a legless 'Boy' from Velvettiturai or a Sightless soldier from Devundara. Or maybe to a lover who lights a candle for some forgotten fighter buried under swollen earth, too poor even for a memorial.
What does it matter to which side they belonged ?
They paid the price, we didn't. They shed the tears, we didn't .
Let us then wish, nay, that's not enough, let us pray, to all the Gods in creation for 'The way it used to be' to return .
Or ........ let us be all silent ~ we owe that much to those who died nameless”

From an email from an anonymous Nihal, long long ago. The seniors would appreciate the sentiments, expressed with poetic beauty.

Result of insulting a Queen

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Small cars seen on the roads of Ceylon in the 1950s

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Old photos, Ceylon.

Old Fort Railway station. See the profusion of British steel used in the construction. Those were the dayus of British Empire.

Steam engine with attached large coal tender for a long haul. Each of these engines had the name of a distinguished  Britisher, emblazoned in large letters on a steel plate, riveted in a prominent place.

A steam-locomotive on the narrow-gauge 'Kelani Valley line', starting at Colombo Fort and ending at Opanayake about 150 Km away.

Christmas in Ceylon of the 1930s.

CAN YOU REMEMBER THESE DAYS.  THEY WERE SUPERB.  WHAT FUN WE HAD GETTING PREPARED FOR CHRISTMAS.  FORGOTTON DAYS 

Christmas in the good old days

 

By Noel Crusz

 

Here I am on the ocean liner THE PACIFIC SKY in the Coral Sea on a

pre-Christmas voyage from Sydney to New Caledonia.

The memories of how we celebrated Christmas in Sri Lanka come back.

The house was painted, the walls white-washed with low black tar edgings

all round the rooms and the chairs were re-cushioned. The travelling

tailor came home, measured the rooms, and made the curtains on our old

Singer sewing machine.

Red Mansion polish was applied on the cement floor, which got a shine from

a heavy handled brush. Cake making was a ritual, where my mother laid the

rules and we offered to help. We ate a good many cadjunuts and raisins

when no one was looking. There was the wooden ice-box with sawdust and a

heavy metal covering for slabs of ice.

Two weeks before Christmas the children were taken in a hired car to

Pettah's Main Street. The well known shoe store was T.G.M. Perera's and we

were fitted with the best shoes. Even Jamaliya's Shoe Store in Wellawatta

took in orders for boots, the teenage fashion of the thirties.

Before World War II, there was Ono & Co. This Japanese toy shop owned by a

Mr. Numano had a wonderful array of toys from Japan.

The Main Street tailor measured us, as we provided China silk for our

shirts. The silk of course was bought in early November from the Chinese

peddlars who plied their trade on bicycles. Some of the Chinamen carried

their bundles on their back, with a heavy stick for balance. Main Street

in Pettah in the early thirties was very narrow. It had to cope with the

tram lines and bullock carts.

Our Christmas shopping included a visit to X.P. Paivas for lunch and ice

cream. Round the corner was The Rupee Store, where for one rupee you could

buy many things.

Millers, Cargills, Simes and Whiteaways dominated the Fort shopping. We

went to Hunters and Siedles and The Roche Brothers shops for many items.

I cannot forget the shopping in the golden mile of Colpetty, Bambalapitiya

and Wellawatta. The Wickremesinghe Brothers headed by George imported the

famous Mende Radiograms from Germany.

We cannot forget the well known shops in Wellawatta: M.P. Gomez, A.W.

Jansz, J.B. De Pinto, Nooranis, Jamaliya's Boot Works and many famous

boutiques. As a boy I went with my father to A.W. Jansz's store near High

Street. We bought Dutch Edam Cheese, as an accompaniment for the Christmas

breudher. I still remember Jansz bellowing to a tardy salesman: "What are

you standing there shooting 'papaws'! Jansz sold liquor and all types of

hardware. We bought wire-netting to build chicken coops.

The shopping spree in Colombo included a visit to Pilawoos for a treat of

buriyani. Elephant House played a significant part in booking Christmas

cakes. Yet there was one last item that was in the shopping list:

Fireworks. We gazed in wonder at the array of fireworks in the Fireworks

Palace opposite the Fort Railway Station. Sparklers, Roman candles, sky

rockets, Catherine wheels, squibs, crackers of every size were there in

the showcase.

Christmas was on. The cake was made and sent to the bakery. The servants

were pounding and roasting, making string hoppers and pittu, cutting up

A.W. Jansz ham, with cutlets and seeni sambol.

Churches saw long queues at the Confessional. I remember well the Allied

troops celebrating Christmas in Ceylon. In the Seminary in St. Francis

Zavier in Bambalapitiya, the African troops came for Midnight Mass. In

Bandarawela, the Italian prisoners of war, brought tears when they sang

the Adeste Fideles.

As I look out now at a placid sea, the Christmas memories for an

expatriate find no sequence. There were Christmas trees from up-country

estates sent by train. Carol parties on Christmas Eve went about in

lorries. Arthur Van Langenberg helped me to stage a massive Christmas

pageant on Christmas Eve at St. Lucia's Cathedral Square in Kotahena.

There were hundreds in the cast.

The beautiful teenager Camille Cramer played Mary, as she was seated

astride on a real donkey, led by a young doctor, who played Joseph. As

Gerry Paul hit the Police drums, the donkey took off, with Joseph clinging

to its tail, and the audience, including Mary in ripples of laughter.

As midnight came, there were a never-ending sound of fireworks and sky

rockets, that would surely have awoken the Christ Child. Carol parties

came to the doorstep at Kotahena after Midnight Service the famous Colombo

Chetty Choir Conducted by Mr Joe Perumal.

Of course the homes saw families sitting for a feast of string hoppers,

ham, breudher, cheese, mulligatany and cake. There were presents near the

family Christmas tree.

The postman, the dhoby, the baker, the fishmonger were the regular

Christmas early birds. They all got cash, plus a tot of arrack.

As children we waited eagerly for the Sakkili Band. These were the poor

men and women who carried the night soil buckets, before the water closet

and drainage era. Many householders were generous in the cash tips they

gave them. An extra pint of arrack helped them in their dance! The famous

Kukul Charlie also made his trek down all the lanes. Those were the days

when Donovan Andree dominated and enriched the local entertainment scene.

Donovan brought down the Ice Follies.

Soon night came once more. We lit our fireworks, saw the servants lighting

the big Roman candles and sky rockets. The radio blasted yuletide

melodies.

As my ship went on its voyage, I was dreaming not of a 'White Christmas',

but of the Christmases I spent in Sri Lanka. Nowhere in the world did I

ever experience Christmas, as the Ceylonese prepare and enjoy it. I can

still hear the hustle and bustle in Pettah, the cries of the street

vendors and the pavement hawkers. The wailing of the mamma-pappa balloon,

the rattle of the toy-carts, and the delicacies from the gram sellers are

unforgettable.

An Aussie Christmas is pea-nuts compared to a Christmas in Ceylon. I do

not wonder why my parents christened me Noel, and my sister Noeline.

I am reminded of J.P. de Fonseka who gave lustre to Christmas writing. He

edited the Christmas issue of St. Mary's Parish bulletin in Bambalapitiya.

He wrote: "St. Thomas Aquinas theology avoids the Christmas cake and wine

and toys and crackers and family reunions of children and parents... He

considers the mystery of the GOD man, without whom the Christmas wines

rejoice not and the crackers crack in vain."

[IMAGE]

Be Proud To Be A Sri Lankan

 

Remembered Vignettes - A story of a Medical student's life in Colombo, Sri Lanka between 1960 to 1965.

Extract from a review by Senaka Abeyratne, winner of the Gratien Prize 2006.

..."This is, indeed, a little gem of a book; wickedly funny, entertaining and deeply evocative at times; a lovely slice of topical, Sri Lankan, post-colonial history. The stories and characters are as real as they are unforgettable. Veerasingam is a fine storyteller and has shown considerable skill in the way he has used the valuable template provided by his batch-mates to create a fascinating picture of what life was like at Medical College in the sixties. The editor too has done a good job in cleaning up the manuscript ..."

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