Nearly 40 Years After: A Mini Travelogue

The past week provided a mixed bag of emotions for three generations of my immediate family: for myself, for a middle-aged daughter returning to the land of her birth after 36 years and a young adult, granddaughter making a first visit to a South Asian country.
Yala National Park provided a great deal of excitement: several leopard sightings, some elephants, a few calves and one quite magnificent tusker.
The deer population appeared to be at an all-time low level. I have never seen so few deer at Yala in the more than three score years I have visited our premier National Park, and we only saw one sambhur in three days. Why? While leopard, elephant and the more sought-after large animals do get scared away from the motorable tracks by the unbelievably high traffic that is now permitted into the park, the same has never been true of deer. May I suggest that a possible explanation for the precipitous drop in the deer population could be the presence of those carrying arms with no let or hindrance within the park?
There are several Armed Forces camps inside Block one of the park and a major establishment at the park boundary at Palatupana. In addition it appears that Forces’ personnel, their civilian friends and relations have untrammeled access to all parts of Yala. In fact, we encountered a small truck over the (army) number plate of which a piece of cardboard had been placed in an (unsuccessful) effort to conceal its identity. There was one soldier with an assault rifle, in uniform, attending on this group while the rest of the civilians – men, women and children – were walking in the vicinity of the vehicle, something that is supposed to be an absolute no-no in any of our parks. Our tracker shouting at these people, didn’t seem to have much of an effect on them. We also saw other military vehicles with women and children in them, the former not in military garb, suggesting that they were family members being conducted through the park without benefit of Wild Life Department trackers in attendance.
The visitors’ book at Buttuwa Bungalow made interesting reading, with several references to the noise pollution emanating from the adjacent navy camp where it appeared that “parties” were often the order of the day.
The relatively recent (and tasteful) sign-posting of locations of interest was a welcome addition and there appeared to be attempts at increasing water storage in the park for times of severe drought.
There were far too many vehicles allowed in the park and, until more of the park (Block two etc.) is opened up to vehicular traffic, there appears to be no solution but to restrict the number of vehicles allowed in at any given time. What I found truly ludicrous, was regular-sised buses running on some of the side roads in the park. This had to be seen to be believed! These vehicles would not normally be permitted on roads of this kind anywhere in the country, leave alone those in a National Wildlife Park. Incredible, and obviously a decision driven by the narrowest of political considerations, given the fact that this state of affairs made it very hazardous for other vehicular traffic, leave alone the animals we are allegedly trying to preserve in their natural habitat!
An attempt to go down memory lane, visiting a part of the eastern coast where I once owned two semi-commercial holiday homes was, as might be expected, not the success one would have hoped it would be. The area south of Vakarai, where the original Coral Cottage and Chenaikudah Wadi were located were, to all intents and purposes, one large military camp.
One might imagine the effect that uniformed and armed personnel at every turn would have on those coming out of a non-militarised democracy. In sum, it verged on the traumatic. What this also brought home to me, was how accustomed I had become to constantly being around uniformed figures “packing heat.” If you had told me before my return to this country, that I would become de-sensitised to all these trademarks of violence and death, I would have accused you of taking leave of your senses. I suppose it does prove, though, that human beings can adapt pretty well to any set of circumstances. However, I’d like to believe that I will never accept what flows from weapons, uniforms and the exercise of uncontrolled authority that Mao said “came out of the barrel of a gun.”
The Japanese-funded Sigiriya Museum was a small delight with but a few dull touches thanks to what seem suspiciously like the exercise of “local” expertise in having very poor displays of reading material and craftware allegedly produced by local artisans. What was saddest to see, though, was the area in which children and young people were invited to draw and paint their impressions of the great pleasure garden/rock fortress. The invitations were confined to Sinhala and English. The lack of an invitation to Tamil children was sad in the extreme and something that needs to be rectified without delay – unless it is the intention of those with responsibility for what goes on at this Heritage Site to drive home the message of chauvinism that our rulers are only too ready to deny in international circles.
Polonnaruwa, on our homeward journey, proved why it has always been my favourite of the ancient cities. Not even the incredible amount of garbage blowing in the wind and what must be the largest population of truly persistent and obnoxious touts could destroy the charm of a capital renowned for the agricultural prowess of the monarch for whom it is most famous: Parakrama Bahu. It also brought home to me that Sri Lanka was once justly famed for its sophisticated and intricate irrigation system and a king who vowed not to let so much as a drop of precipitation reach the sea until it had served the noble purpose of growing food for his people. It might not be fashionable to extol the virtues of a “peacenik” king at a time when the collective national energy seems to be directed to a single-minded glorification of one who defeated the Cholas/Tamils (Dutugemunu) and those who, literally, claim to be his descendents. However, it might still be useful to devote some of our thoughts to a monarch who ensured Sri Lanka’s status as the rice bowl of Asia, particularly when food is promising to force itself on the national consciousness, much as it did in Mrs. Bandaranaike’s 1970s.