Advertisement
Published: March 6th 2011
Twilight
Those days of thunder have long past
We make haste for measured tasks
May our impulses curtail the wrath
Sweetness in twilight amber must
Twilight Amber
J E L Ratnayake
Those days of thunder have long past
We make haste for measured tasks
May our impulses curtail the wrath
Sweetness in twilight amber must
These lenses will show at a distance
What your fingertips should not touch
Allow our virgin innocence to prevail
Let our legacy shine from dawn to dusk
We seek this corridor of harmony
Look to a future with hope not dust
Paint in seven colours a spring life
Allowing this dear habitat a chance
With musical verse strung out loud
May the sweetness of melody be sung
To many fragrances of human hearts
Let visions of celestial wisdom come
With this prayer I give you the story of Jaffna, (Yalpanam). Yal, represents the Lute a musical instrument made entirely of wood in the shape of a teardrop. It is like a Sitar. Hence Yalpanam, the land of the Lutists encompassed the final verse of my poem. It was as a salutation to this land and its people of its musical origins.
As a Sri Lankan it was my first visit to Jaffna. My initial view was that the Northern most part of any land, even
Legacy
These lenses will show at a distance
What your fingertips should not touch
Allow our virgin innocence to prevail
Let our legacy shine from dawn to dusk
of the world (Tibet) is a spiritual place with a mystic energy that is profound. It is the Crown Chakra.
We were to reside in Jaffna and travel to the outskirts in daily expeditions. There were three of us, Kingsley, Peter, (Anthropological student from Norway) and I. The one thing we did not account for in our plans were Jaffna roads which have not been repaired for the last thirty or forty years and how Captain, (My Jeep) would cope. You will see in due course!
Our place of residence was an Anglican Church Presbytery which during the colonial times was the Dutch Governor’s residence with an attached church. This Church was in fact built on the original Nallur Temple. An important temple for the Hindu community in Jaffna. When the Governor ordered the Temple to be brought down so that he could build his residence, the workers or slaves at the time refused to disturb the central point in which the altar was placed and the powerful authorities of the Dutch colony succumbed to this protest. Perhaps collective consciousness won the battle. Therefore two square steps about three feet tall is preserved from this original building and
Hope
We seek this corridor of harmony
Look to a future with hope not dust
Paint in seven colours a spring life
Allowing this dear habitat a chance
they have built the Church and the presbytery on it.
We were given a large room to share amongst the three of us right next to where the altar steps stood. Rather eerie feeling overwhelmed us and I found that these premises had exceptionally good energy for meditation. Fr. Dixon the current incumbent was our host and was very accommodating. He had three children and one had just arrived two days ago. Something that was profoundly prominent in Fr. Dixon’s mannerisms was the fact that he had this common phrase he would use as a reply to every question. This I later found was a common phrase amongst those who spoke English in Jaffna. He said, “Yes! That’s the main thing.”
So if I said, Father, this Church is very beautiful. He would say, “Yes! Yes! That’s the main thing.”
Is it a very old church Father? “Yes! That’s the main thing...”
Get it? Did you get it?
Oh well! Perhaps it’s my wry sense of British humour copulating with Jaffna mannerisms.
However I say this in good humour, as Fr. Dixon was an amazingly dedicated father and a good clergyman. His family consisted
Vision
With musical verse strung out loud
May the sweetness of melody be sung
To many fragrances of human hearts
Let visions of celestial wisdom come
not only of the immediate members but some other young adults who were displaced during the war not forgetting to mention Rushan. And all of them he fed and cared for with a meagre salary of Rs.11,000 a month. How he did it, I do not know.
Rushan is a young boy of twelve years— my hero. As I punched away into my laptop in one of the church corridors, he would come and lean over me and observe what I was doing. As a result I got to know him well and this quiet acquaintance turned into an English lesson with an aim to giving him enough confidence to speak in English. He could speak Tamil but not Sinhala nor English.
One day I noticed that he had a rather involving schedule and in sign language I asked him about it. After much effort he understood and exclaimed, “Ah! Time table?” So he went on to tell me what he did during a typical school day.
He wakes up at 5 in the morning. Says his prayers, studies for an hour, feeds the chicken, cleans the backyard and waters the plants. Then he gets dressed in half
Rushan
Baby sitting. an hour and goes to school. Upon his return he cleans the front yard; babysits for the Father, waters the plants again, sweeps the church and carries out a few other chores— for good measure. Then he studies for two hours. At 8.30pm Fr. Dixon invites all his kids to join in evening prayers and a singing session. After that Rushan studies another hour on the same table that I work in the church corridor. He does all this with the same smile. If I introduced this schedule to my children I would be facing a court charge!
Most often than not I notice him nod off on his book and so I tap on his head and order him to get to bed. “There is no point in you falling asleep on your books”, I say. “It won’t go in you know?” He smiles and nods off again on his books. For him, at least for now it is not the intake—it is the discipline.
One morning I noticed him cleaning the chicken yard with muck up to his ankles. He doesn’t wear any footwear. A chore that nobody will look forward to that early in the
Fr. Dixon & Family
Fr. Dixon, his wife and kids along with members of his extended family. morning, he does it with a level of commitment that any another would demand supervision. But this child of twelve years has great appreciation for life.
On the morning of my last day there, he came to say "Good bye" to me. He was fully dressed to go to school and with that beautiful smile extended his arm for me to shake. I thrusted Rs.200 to him as pocket money and told him to buy some Ice Cream for his friends. He profusely refused to accept it and upon my insistence he grudgingly took it. Then with his heavy rucksack full of books he walked away, once looking back to say "Good bye". I was certain that our paths will cross again.
Community living is all about sharing the experience of others' lives. Whilst we were here to discover Jaffna, we were also here to understand the Jaffna people. The initial adjustment involves changes of one’s perceptions—one’s mind, so to speak. It is harder to appreciate this initially but given a few days of living together with an open mind to accept the beauty of their lives I began to fit in well. This was my second experience
Fisherman
Not too far from shore since I spent four days with a family in Abhayagiriya. However there are no similarities between the two families and the crux in the differences were down to home economics and culture. In Abhayagiriya, they attempted to conform to my needs. Here we were part of a larger family conforming to the family’s needs. Fr. Dixon has a busy schedule and cannot separate his personal life with his churchly duties. Straight after saying mass he would deal with family affairs. Besides all this he had the three of us to look after. He did the shopping, the funeral services, washing his children, meditating to heal people and clean the toilets all as one stream of tasks in his life. I never saw him complain other than to say that the prices of vegetables were going up over and above fish prices. I felt bad as I have been a vegetarian for three years and Fr. Dixon was adamant to conform to my needs.
One of my complaints about rural living was the toilets. The floors are wet and moist and brown... ish! On occasion a spider spins it’s web not too far from one’s head, a trail of ants are busy carrying... whatever ants carry in such environments and the mosquitoes take advantage of the exposed derriere. (I do have a vivid imagination and as an explanation to the state of the toilet, I couldn’t help but infer that someone once sat here in a peaceful release when the spider landed on her head. And of course she shrieked, spun round to avoid the spider and spray-painted the place brown and got her foot stuck in the hole... hmm... It’s amazing how the mind wonders when squatting.) As do the French, our villagers in Sri Lanka have squatting toilets and thus, my mind played tricks on me and I suffered this phobia of my slippers if not the foot slipping into the hole. Yes! The very brown hole! The thought of recovery was not negotiable. This ‘whole’ experience of visiting the toilet was rather a "slippery" affair.
To be Contd...
Advertisement
Tot: 0.092s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 12; qc: 50; dbt: 0.0608s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
Indira
non-member comment
SO TOUCHING!
Sounds like the echo of one's own thoughts, for there are many who silently wish the same....