Jaffna People

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Our first day consisted of meeting some distinguished members of the Jaffna community. It was Kingsley’s view that we should seek their blessings or perhaps it was as a mark of respect to drop in since we were in town. He stated that if the elders knew that we were in town and did not visit them in going about our work there might be some misunderstandings.

The phenomenon of dropping in was another one of those Sri Lankan habits I have had to get used to. In UK, I was used to making arrangements a good two weeks before visiting a friend for dinner. And that was just the Sri Lankan friends who in their own country simply pop up—try dropping in on them in UK and you will hear your share of ‘Chucks & Tucks’ complaining as to how inconvenient the day has turned out. In Sri Lanka, you just pop up or drop in which ever the phrase, both meaning the same thing. No prior notice given to say that you are appearing at someone’s doorstep and that you intend to stay there until they serve lunch or dinner to you.

The couple we met that day was simply overjoyed to see us and it was a heartfelt greeting. They were an Arts professor who lectures in the Jaffna University and his family. He was already entertaining some other pop up friends and was more than glad to add us into this forum. I realised that this was in fact a beautiful trait of the Sri Lankan hospitality which we the western cultured Sri Lankans turn our noses up when at the receiving end but in the main we are more than happy to accept the usual trimmings of such hospitality. Not only did the Professor and his good wife extend their courtesy to us warmheartedly, when they realised that I in my newly found spirituality had given up many gastric indulgences including liquor, they extended their invitation to another night of vegetarian dinner promising my favourite Indian food called Iddli.

On a few occasions I have been fortunate to experience the devout Hindu family of Sri Lanka, especially of Jaffna origin to be one with a high level of spiritual energy that is magnetic in the drawing of one’s soul. This is lesser to a degree in the Indians I have met. That is to say the magnetism of the Hindu culture of the Indians I have met is soiled by the western influence and wealth economics. Therefore in order to sustain this effect they have a tendency to promote their culture by way of role play.

The encompassing demonstrations towards religious and cultural activities are one example of how the Indians demonstrate it. I can give you a good example of this by an observation I made of the Bollywood awards that were held in Colombo a year ago. The young actors who were awarded certain accolades by the wise maestros of the past, say Amitar Bachan, was greeted on stage by the novice with an apparent genuflection. Whilst genuflection is in its own right a ritual which benefits the mind of the novice, to have done it correctly is important. The young actor half heartedly leant forwards to touch the maestro’s feet mainly for the benefit of the audience in order to promote his image rather than to give respect to his elder. In this context there is certain emptiness about the act as it is exploited for a means to an egoistic end. Had they done it for the right reasons they would have performed the act correctly; going down on both knees and bowing the head low enough to touch the floor. Genuflection to our elders is a cultural act that demonstrates respect to the wisdom of our elders but not to make them God like. The wise receive it with no expedience whilst the genuflector receives training of thought that is meritorious. Since Hindu and Buddhist philosophies believe in cause & effect, this is an act which creates a cause resulting in a meritorious effect.

This was noticeable and I felt that their efforts were mainly due to the fact that the Indian family was aware of the digression from their culture. Whereas the strong Hindus of Sri Lanka I have met and certainly this is the case with the Professor et al, I felt a certain warming towards them which is hard to explain. This was an important comparison which was brought to my conscience; if I am to introduce those aspects of Sri Lankan culture to the outside world in order to promote tourism, what would be the consequences of such a move? Would we lose our vestal nature to the rewards of enhancement of wealth by tourism?

The professor lived in a house that conformed to Old Dutch architecture. The house although not very large was square with a veranda on the inside and a quadrangle. At the centre of the quadrangle was a well to keep the humidity in this dry weather. The open air quadrangle made it possible to gaze at the breathtakingly beautiful open galaxy at night. They sit round the well in the evenings and have a chat whilst stargazing. The four sides of the veranda had four butter lamps to illuminate the surroundings.

On the day of the dinner I felt bad that we were visiting the professor without any gifts. In UK I was used to taking a bottle of wine and some flowers for the lady. Having travelled in and around Jaffna for the better part of the day we had forgotten this simple courtesy until we were ready to visit their place. When I insisted that we should buy something before arriving at their doorstep, Kingsley had a good idea—so he claimed. He suggested that we will go to the house without further delay and explain to the Professor that we would like to buy a bottle of Arack and since we did not know the ins and outs of buying liquor in Jaffna could he (the Professor) please send one of his boys on the errand. Though not happy with this plan of action I was quickly subjugated, apparently by my lack of knowledge of the ‘way we do things around here’. However it turned out that I was right to think in the way I did.

The explanation was done in private, but later it was clear that the professor had taken it as a personal failure that he had not already thought of obtaining liquor to be served for the occasion. The plot had failed in its purpose. Instead of bringing a gift to the hosts we had now made him feel bad for not complying with western traditions of offering alcohol.
I find that we Asians are very adaptable in such circumstances and it does not let us worry too much. Whilst the Professor apologised for lacking in hospitality I made sure that he understood our intention. A bottle was brought and Peter and I vehemently insisted that we paid for it. Now we were to gather round and enjoy the drink as men, as the women wouldn’t dream of being a part of such an occasion. The quadrangle would have been an ideal location for the purpose of enjoying a drink but the professor chose a dark corner of the garden on the side of the house and placed a table and some chairs to sit round. I felt that he did this as a mark of respect for the women folk in his house. Such a gathering in this society would be construed as improper and therefore the Professor also insisted that the lights illuminating that side of the garden were switched off. The neighbours and the passersby were not to witness the events of the evening that had emanated from our failure to bring a gift to the host. I remained with my Coke as I have not touched alcohol for the last three years and wasn’t going to do so on this occasion but I was able to witness the effects of alcohol on others. I find it remarkable that intoxication promotes bravado to discuss one’s spiritual attainment. It seemed that all of a sudden we are all enlightened!

I gathered that the Professor even though he strived to conform to local customs, was a man of the world. He has been abroad too, and in drinking alcohol he was composed in his demeanour and never for one moment let himself down. I value such men and their valour.

One other thing that I noticed at the Professor’s house was the amount of people that lived in it and how they lived so peacefully together. I learnt that the Professor and his wife had no children of their own but adopted displaced children as their own. My most intriguing discovery was to learn that his pupils always hung out at his place if not stay with him. To them he extended a level of familiarity that was akin to friendship rather than superiority. This was the creative genius of the Arts Professor. This was an ancient tradition where the student lives with the Master (The Guru) to learn his ways by intuition rather than conceptualisation.

I do value such men and their valour!

Following the first morning’s visit to the Professor’s house, an invitation followed for us to visit a night of entertainment in a nearby village to commemorate an auspicious festival. We had to travel about one hour’s distance to the village at about 7pm. The entertainment which was of a traditional nature was to continue the whole night till 5am. The theme was taken from precepts of the Mahabharata which holds true the culture and history of the Hindus and the original Indians.

The hour’s drive was subject to many Army inspection points whereby the soldiers would question our intention of being where we were. They all spoke fluent Sinhala but hardly conversant in Tamil. I felt that there was a slight hint of a divorce between the forces and the locals. When the soldiers realised that we were Sinhala they were at ease. Overall they were very friendly to all people but friendlier to the Sinhala people. One chap even mentioned that when we came across further Army stops, to mention to them that we were in fact Sinhala.

To me this cultivated an intrusive feeling. Here we are in someone else’s land feeling at ease with a password that is alien to them. In principal we took the decision not to use the password as we yearned to be part of a society whence the good professor was accompanying us to a play.

The play itself wasn’t of great quality. Of the local villagers a few amateur actors took to mean a recitation which was laborious and shallow in depth or climax. But it was in the audience that I noticed my play. The children who gathered together to play by a fire, the young girls who took the opportunity to make themselves socially aware, the young boys who came to look at the young girls, the older folk who knew the story of the Mahabharata and enjoyed this retinue and their display of the tales, the vendors that sold gram and in the air that was fragranced by the incense. They all had a story to tell me and they all had a chores, ‘This war has ended’. I basked in the glory of this information and I broke out in a poem, ‘Twilight Amber’. Until recently, for a sizeable time I had been silenced from this very special gift of writing poetry and now it has returned to me.

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Photos

Dinner at the Professor's house
A delicious vegetarian meal awaited us at dinner

Comments

[Peter]

Very good!
I totally forgot about your eminent travel blog, my friend. It was a true plesure to recall it, and read it carefully. Looking forward to see the further development of the blog, and your project. You can always ask me if you need anything that I can provide.

[sound of sa lay woo]

Thanks P
Hi Pederson, I have been trying to contact you to ive Fr. Dixon's details. Please contact--Laki