Tamil writer Aadhavan Theetchanya, who was recently in Sri Lanka for a literary meet, says the country is still to emerge from its paranoiac mould
My overwhelming feeling after returning from Sri Lanka is that what we
know so far of the Sri Lankan Tamils’ agony is almost nothing when compared with the reality. On October 10 I was in the country to attend a literary function at Mathalai in the Central Province. Having been invited by my friends, I decided to forsake the hospitality of the Sri Lankans – which in any case is hard to accept – and let my friends take care of my expenses. This mountainous province has a high concentration of plantation Tamils of Indian origin, whose forbears the British had transported to Lanka for working in the tea gardens. The Sri Lankan Tamils and Indian-origin Tamils are separate units out there, and it is only the former who fought for a separate state and were traumatised by the war.
During my stay in the Central Province I got a chance to visit the plantation Tamils. I suggested to them that they should press for double citizenship – one from India as well. Of this section of Tamils 87 per cent are Dalits, and they all live crammed up in shabby settlements called Line houses. To these Tamils the defeat of the LTTE, to which they were sympathetic, and the killing of Prabhakaran came as a big blow. But few of them dare to speak openly about the war and the status of Tamils in the country. In fact about 20 per cent of the people who are holed up in squalid refugee camps are plantation Tamils. From south and central Lanka, they traveled north to work in the houses and on the lands of the northern Tamils. After the war ended they were among those who were herded inside the government-run camps.
After spending a week in the province I decided to see how Jaffna in the north was faring. It took me two days to get a ticket. Those who visit Jaffna for the first time are required to take only flights after seeking clearance from the defence ministry. The service is currently being run by the privately-owned Expo Air. An hour-long flight costs Rs 10,250.
It was a grim start. For, to catch the plane that leaves at 11.30 a.m., you must be at Expo Air at 6 a.m. At the air force control room we were told to deposit our cell phones and cameras; and by the time we reached Ragmalana Airport we had been thoroughly frisked. It was 9:30 a.m. There was a small canteen offering tea and buns at exorbitant prices: a single cup of tea cost Rs 30! It took us an hour to reach Palali airbase, which we found crawling with heavily armed military personnel. Indeed the place resembled a virtual fortress. Our documents were then searched and we were transported in a bus driven by army men. Once inside it, I saw that the windows were tinted to obscure the view outside. At another place our flight tickets were marked with a seal and we were warned that without such a sealed ticket one could not be allowed to leave Jaffna.
After some more minutes we un-boarded. A bus from Expo Air was waiting to take us to Jaffna, where almost every building along the bumpy road had been razed to the ground and the big houses abandoned. In Jaffna itself I found this once busy commercial and knowledge centre wearing a fear-stricken look. Wherever you turned or looked there was sure to be a soldier with a machine gun and at every 70 feet was a military outpost – a truly nightmarish experience. But because this town has been under army control since 1995 the people were used to it.
The second thing that caught my attention was the big cut-outs of Rajapakse. “I am your friend, your servant” – Rajapakse smiled in the numerous posters, some of which proclaimed: “There is no minority or majority; we are all a single race.” The words were naturally in Tamil. There were cut-outs of Sri Lankan soldiers too, and in some of them he was seen posing with soldiers. The government is still celebrating its victory over the LTTE – and this, mind you, in a Tamil citadel! One image in particular remains glued to my mind: a posse of soldiers in military fatigues whitewashing a Buddhist Vihara!
My overwhelming feeling after returning from Sri Lanka is that what we
know so far of the Sri Lankan Tamils’ agony is almost nothing when compared with the reality. On October 10 I was in the country to attend a literary function at Mathalai in the Central Province. Having been invited by my friends, I decided to forsake the hospitality of the Sri Lankans – which in any case is hard to accept – and let my friends take care of my expenses. This mountainous province has a high concentration of plantation Tamils of Indian origin, whose forbears the British had transported to Lanka for working in the tea gardens. The Sri Lankan Tamils and Indian-origin Tamils are separate units out there, and it is only the former who fought for a separate state and were traumatised by the war.During my stay in the Central Province I got a chance to visit the plantation Tamils. I suggested to them that they should press for double citizenship – one from India as well. Of this section of Tamils 87 per cent are Dalits, and they all live crammed up in shabby settlements called Line houses. To these Tamils the defeat of the LTTE, to which they were sympathetic, and the killing of Prabhakaran came as a big blow. But few of them dare to speak openly about the war and the status of Tamils in the country. In fact about 20 per cent of the people who are holed up in squalid refugee camps are plantation Tamils. From south and central Lanka, they traveled north to work in the houses and on the lands of the northern Tamils. After the war ended they were among those who were herded inside the government-run camps.
After spending a week in the province I decided to see how Jaffna in the north was faring. It took me two days to get a ticket. Those who visit Jaffna for the first time are required to take only flights after seeking clearance from the defence ministry. The service is currently being run by the privately-owned Expo Air. An hour-long flight costs Rs 10,250.
It was a grim start. For, to catch the plane that leaves at 11.30 a.m., you must be at Expo Air at 6 a.m. At the air force control room we were told to deposit our cell phones and cameras; and by the time we reached Ragmalana Airport we had been thoroughly frisked. It was 9:30 a.m. There was a small canteen offering tea and buns at exorbitant prices: a single cup of tea cost Rs 30! It took us an hour to reach Palali airbase, which we found crawling with heavily armed military personnel. Indeed the place resembled a virtual fortress. Our documents were then searched and we were transported in a bus driven by army men. Once inside it, I saw that the windows were tinted to obscure the view outside. At another place our flight tickets were marked with a seal and we were warned that without such a sealed ticket one could not be allowed to leave Jaffna.
After some more minutes we un-boarded. A bus from Expo Air was waiting to take us to Jaffna, where almost every building along the bumpy road had been razed to the ground and the big houses abandoned. In Jaffna itself I found this once busy commercial and knowledge centre wearing a fear-stricken look. Wherever you turned or looked there was sure to be a soldier with a machine gun and at every 70 feet was a military outpost – a truly nightmarish experience. But because this town has been under army control since 1995 the people were used to it.
The second thing that caught my attention was the big cut-outs of Rajapakse. “I am your friend, your servant” – Rajapakse smiled in the numerous posters, some of which proclaimed: “There is no minority or majority; we are all a single race.” The words were naturally in Tamil. There were cut-outs of Sri Lankan soldiers too, and in some of them he was seen posing with soldiers. The government is still celebrating its victory over the LTTE – and this, mind you, in a Tamil citadel! One image in particular remains glued to my mind: a posse of soldiers in military fatigues whitewashing a Buddhist Vihara!
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