Elections: Cynicism And Opportunism

Looking At Things From Mahinda’s Viewpoint

By Indi Samarajiva in Trincomalee

I’m on the beach near Pigeon Island, eating lobster. The guys tell me that everything is fine. It certainly feels that way. People are unloading cement, laying tiles. The road is paved, the new kovil is coming up. People have jobs, they’re sending money home. I’m sitting with two Tamil gentlemen and they both seem pretty gung-ho.

The President has given what he said he’d give. We are living in trust. He has eradicated terrorism. We have the same trust that he will develop the country.

I scratch my head. In certain circles I find it easy to go over the litany of things wrong with the government. When sitting with honest Mahinda supporters I find that these arguments sound stale and biased. So I have to think. More to the point, I have to listen.

Trinco opinions

The other businessman seemed like he could do business anywhere in the world. But he likes Sri Lanka. I asked him how it was working with this current government and he just smiled.
«They gave me peace to build, what more favours can he do for me? He has given me more than any other government, and I’m a Tamil.»

I poke at my lobster and wonder about bias. I’ve had lobster exactly four times in my life, and this is the best ever. Simply having a good meal colours my perception. Is part of my perception coloured green? I mean, in a UNP government I would be way more connected. This must influence my thinking, including what I remember and what I forget.

I was recently in Mannar, and some people in an IDP camp said point blank that they didn’t care about democracy or other parts of the country. They just wanted to know what the candidates could do for them. Am I so different? I say that Sri Lankan democracy is a veneer over feudalism, but how much of my rhetoric is a veneer over my monkey mind?

Words and deeds

For all my talk, I’m not actually doing much development. These guys are actually on the bricks in Trinco, creating jobs and doing stuff. And they’re saying everything is fine. One contractor said he remembers going home everyday at 5:30 to avoid danger. Now he works as late as he needs to and can take jobs further out of town.

His father was killed by the LTTE for giving land deeds to Sinhalese fishermen. The contractor himself was held for extortion and felt constantly under threat. But he feels better now. He’s doing better now. What can I say?

It is undeniable that the end of war is a boon, perhaps the greatest boon this country has been given. It is also undeniable that Mahinda ended the war  by using pretty brutal methods. Many people I’ve met seem to accept this and not really worry about the methods. Not that we disagree on the issue. It just doesn’t register for them. They have peace now and they’re moving forward.

Those who like to live in peace, who like development and like to develop themselves would think the same, the contractor told me.

I like to think that democracy and freedom are absolute truths, that war is bad and that we should respect institutions and laws. In the end, in the long term, I think these values are still right. Yet when you are eating at another man’s table, you have to listen and try to understand. Specifically this table on the beach, but also in the domain of Mahinda, the borders he has secured so that I can explore them. I’m trying to understand how these fellows think and, to an extent, I sort of get it. The cognitive dissonance is ringing so loud I can no longer hear the waves.

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Apathy And Ambivalence In Anuradhapura

By R. Wijewardene in Anuradhapura

Susantha, a street hawker outside the Anuradhapura  Municipal Market, was on a rant. “People are fed up of elections,” he said. “We’ve had campaigning for months – first the presidential election, now this. It’s just a waste of money,”

The same sentiments were echoed by a large crowd at the city’s central bus stand.

“There really isn’t any point in voting,” one man said. “Look what happened last time to the General. The whole thing was pointless. We all know who the winners will be, and  people have other things to do.”
Malini, a teacher at Anuradhapura Central College, was more specific.

“There is support for all three sides – the Government, the UNP and the DNA,” she said. “Many people say they will vote for the government because they ended the war. However, outside of the war people complain that there  hasn’t been enough development.  They say that all the money  has gone to Mannar, to Vavuniya  and the East, that we in Anuradhapura have received nothing. The truth is  that many people want change. However, they know the opposition is too weak to deliver it, so they are fed up. The people have just lost interest.”

Sentiment in the city is so negative that even those inexhaustible founts of optimism, politicians, are prepared to admit that this time around people don’t seem too keen to involve themselves in the country’s political process.

“Rallies aren’t really well attended,” said UNP Provincial Councillor Indika Arunkumara. “It’s not a good time. It’s the harvest season, so people are busy in the fields.  Also, the new year is approaching and people need money for celebrations. The elections really aren’t a priority for the people at present.”
However, when asked if he was confident the UNP would perform well in the election despite the lack of public interest, Arunkumara returned to his  default  political optimism.

“Of course the people are with us, and we will secure the largest number of seats from the Anuradhapura District,” he said.

DNA candidate and former JVP MP Ranaweera Pathirana also spoke of a lack of public interest.

“All the parties are having difficulty  attracting people to rallies – it’s because of the harvest season, but also because of the arrest of Sarath Fonseka. People have lost faith in democracy. Still, they know that only Fonseka can provide leadership to the opposition, so we are confident we will secure at least three seats from this district.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the mood was more positive at the UPFA’s campaign offices. Priyantha Liyanage, a young campaign worker, insisted that a government victory was assured.

“We will win by a big margin,” Liyanage said. “The people of Anuradhapura supported us in the presidential election. They will support us again in the parliamentary election.”

However, he too admitted that the turn-out at rallies had been disappointing. “That’s to be expected given that it’s the harvest season,” he said.

In close proximity to Anuradhapura’s ancient bo tree, a senior monk dismissed the politician’s suggestion that the harvest and approaching New Year were behind the poor turn-out at rallies.

“The harvest has nothing to do with it — there have been elections at around harvest time before,” the monk said. “It’s just that people no longer have any faith in democracy. They have seen so many elections, and still no change.  I think that after the presidential election people lost hope. They believe that no one can change the present situation, so they think it’s better for them to get on with their own lives rather than get involved in a futile political process.”

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Discovering The Limits Of The Known World In Mannar

By Indi Samarajiva in Mannar

Mannar is a pretty big island off the coast of Sri Lanka. No one really goes there, and it’s been assumed that it’s barren and boring, but it’s anything but. The water is still and clear, the sunsets miraculous and the scenery fabulous. Also, the place is largely undiscovered, so you won’t encounter anyone from Lonely Planet. That said, Mannar is quite hard to get to, has limited places to stay and – in this season – is hot as the boiling sun. It is, however, something new under the sun.

Getting There

There are two roads to Jaffna. Normally you go from Kurunegala to Anuradhapura to Medawachchiya. This is slow, but at least the road exists. You can also go through Puttalam, but the Puttalam-Anuradhapura road only exists in patches. A new route is the offensive road through Wilpattu National Park. This road is actually fine (albeit morally dubious), but the connecting roads do not exist. It is not entirely pleasant. Taking the Wilpattu route, one can arrive in about seven and a half hours, including one hour for an opulent seafood lunch in Chilaw. It is best to have four-wheel drive, but travel in a city car is possible.

Eating

If you stop at any street shop in Sri Lanka you can usually get decent food. As you enter Mannar (before the bus stand) the Top Cream House is on your left. It looks like they provide a decent seafood rice and curry.

Places To Stay

One can stay at the Star Guest House in mediocre rooms for Rs. 900-2000 (023 222 2177). There are other guest houses if you ask around. One can also get to Anuradhapura in two-three hours by taking the road past Menik Farm.

Stuff To Do

Mannar is more for discovering than for sightseeing. When you enter town there are basically three roads. If you go right you find a giant baobab tree and an interesting church. If you go straight you get to Talaimannar, the end of Sri Lanka. The third is unexplored by this traveler. I recommend Talaimannar heartily. It’s about 37 km away and the closest point in Sri Lanka to India. If you turn left at the police station you get to an isolated beach where you can see the next islands in Adam’s Bridge. This is part of the mythical bridge to Lanka that Hanuman built in the Ramayana.

You can wade out for meters into perfectly still, beautiful water. It makes for a stunning sunset. The Navy and Army chaps will ask who you are, but they’re cool. The points closest to Adam’s Bridge are under military control, so you’ll need a military connection to visit them.

Talaimannar is interesting if you like swimming, discovering or the Ramayana. Besides that, however, there isn’t too much to do. That said, Mannar is the end of the known world for most Sri Lankans, and is well worth discovering.

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Elections In Mannar – The UPFA Circus Comes To Town

Minister Bathiudeen’s carnival

By R. Wijewardene in Mannar

The road from Anuradhapura to Mannar is a  lonely one. In fact,  in places it barely exists. The few villages that cling to its fringes are dusty and sparsely populated. The entire population of the Mannar District is scarcely 90,000 – barely equivalent to a single residential neighbourhood in Colombo.

After years of war, a large proportion of these inhabitants are still confined to makeshift shelters. Surprisingly, however, the few roads that do exist are thronged with vehicles, and large convoys of four-wheel drives regularly raise plumes of the district’s dry red dust.

What few population centers there exist are  invariably brightly illuminated and benefit from a constant sound track supplied by loud, constantly blaring amplifiers.

The cacophony and the energy in what is an otherwise desolate and impoverished district seems out of place until you realise that the 2010 election is just days away.

Candidates are trawling through the district’s dust in a  desperate search for votes.  Influential politicians and their retinues, poster boys, canvassers, media-men, security personnel, etc. can be found in every part of the district.  After years of violence the political circus  has come to town.

Literally. A giant fun fair, ostensibly sponsored by the UPFA’s principal candidate in the district, Rishad Bathiudeen, welcomes you to the island of Mannar.

In a district where few homes possess the luxury of electricity, Bathiudeen’s carnival stands out like an elephant in a modest bungalow.

There were merry-go-rounds, ferris wheels and a well of death.  Thousands of lights  illuminate the  whole  spectacle. It  seems very likely  that the fair consumed more power than the entirety of Mannar town.
Every conceivable amenity had been provided. There was a food court with a pizzeria, a miniature  railway, and a shopping area.

The expense of erecting such a lavish carnival in the depths of Mannar can only be guessed at.  But given  Bathiudeen’s evidently extensive means, the expense was clearly well worth it, as people from every part of the district, and from the Wanni, made their way  to gape at this novelty.

Gajan and Sri, two young men from Mannar town, were particularly delighted.   “We lived with the war for so many years,” they said. “We’ve  never had a chance to see anything like this, it’s great!”

When asked if the carnival had persuaded them to vote for the government, however, their response was more cagey.

“No, we can’t say who we will vote for, but certainly not  for the  government. We can’t trust them, not after what happened   during the war and in the  camps. We are happy the war is over but now we want change.”
Fazli, a waiter at the  makeshift pizzeria, provided an overview of the district’s sentiment. “People here  are largely  for the UNP or TNA. This is a Tamil and Muslim district. They know the carnival is only temporary, and deep down they want change. They can see the government has done a lot to build roads and infrastructure, but it’s not enough. We want a change of attitude.”

Ruzana and her friends were enjoying their first-ever visit to a fair, and said they will vote for the government.

“Look at how much the Wanni has changed,” Ruzana said. “We have to vote for the government – they have given us so much.”

Miles from the UPFA’s carnival, on the lonely roads of Mannar, the UNP’s campaign is a much less glamorous affair. Candidates tour villages and camps, erecting posters that will almost surely be torn down a day later.

We caught up with SLMC/UNP principal candidate Mansoor Sinnalebe’s motorcade at a lonely tea shop beyond Silavatturai.

“The people here are with us – this is a Muslim and Tamil province,” Sinnalebe said. “The government has been moving in IDPs from Kalpitiya and Puttalam to secure votes for Bathiudeen. Otherwise, he has no support here.”

Asked about election violence, Mansoor replied that it hasn’t been a major problem.
“We haven’t had any major incidents here. However, our posters are regularly vandalized. The government’s efforts are futile, though. We know we will win.”

The IDPs he mentions, having been brought from Kalpitiya to support Bathiudeen, are indeed staunchly pro-government.

In a  camp of around  40 families  moved  from Kalpitiya to the outskirts of Silavatturai in the past few months, support for the Minister of Resettlement and Disaster Relief was ubiquitous.
“Bathiudeen  listens to us,” said Iqbal Imtiasz, the headman of the community.

“He (Bathiudeen) came here just yesterday,” Imtiasz said. “It was he who allowed us to return to Mannar  from Kalpitiya, where we had been refugees for almost 20 years. Otherwise we would have been IDPs forever, so of course we will vote for him.”

When asked about the politics beyond his village, however, his answers were less certain
“People here don’t really think beyond the village,” he said. “All we want is for politicians to give us things we need – land, water, roads – and Bathiudeen says he will provide these things. We really aren’t concerned about democracy or the economy – we know nothing about these things.”

And so it is. In the Wanni, people worn down after decades of war are desperate for help, for aid, for anything. The subtleties of democracy are scorched into irrelevance by the district’s unblinking sun. And with a population clamoring for something,  anything from the government,  Bathiudeen has decided to base his campaign on giving the people the biggest spectacle of their lives. In a week the nation will know if this carnival politics has been a success.