A reason to celebrate

By J. S. Tissainayagam

reporting from Muttharipputhurai

Murunkan is a measly, dismal-looking village now. It has shrunk from what it was: the prosperous nerve centre of the Wanni in the paddy transporting and whole-selling business, which was a lucrative trade when times were good and commerce thrived.

Ironically, with the ceasefire in operation, Murunkan looks more rundown and inconsequential than when military operations were going on. When both the LTTE and government troops were at war, there was an air of vigilance, suspicion and stealth among the military and police manning the bunker lines and checkpoints, which, however daunting, gave the area character.

But no longer. On Thursday, February 6, just a clutch of policemen lounged by Murunkan junction where the Vavuniya - Mannar road branches to Arippu. They were unarmed and stared with undisguised consternation at the vast concourse of vehicles - vans, lorries and tractor-trailers laden with village folk - trundling down the road to Muttharipputhurai.

“We feel cheated. When Interior Minister John Amaratunga visited Vavuniya he promised that we would be given long leave to go home. But it is three weeks now since he made the promise but nothing has happened,” grunted a police Non commissioned officer, guarding Sector 10 on the Vavuniya - Mannar Road, who wished to remain anonymous.

He said he was in Vavuniya for the past 10 years without a break, braving the enemy, the torrid weather and hostile people. There were 10,000 of them stationed in the Vavuniya Division, most of whom had served long stints and waiting for their turn to go home on leave.

“The commanding officer of the area has managed to work up a transfer, but we of the lower rungs remain,” the NCO continued. His colleagues agreed, nodding their heads dispiritedly, their eyes still following the procession of vehicles moving past them.

“Tamil is our spirit”

The time was around 3.00 p.m. and the road was beginning to fill with traffic and take on a festive air as never seen in the area since ethnic war began to escalate in the early 1980s. A banner slung across the Murunkan junction said what all the buzz was about: Thamil engal uyir; avuyir Pirapakaran (Tamil is our spirit; that spirit is Prabhakaran).

The Thamil Engal Uyir celebration was organised at Muttharipputhurai. The Ponguthamil Elurchchi early last year served to mobilise Tamils to agitate for the lifting of the proscription on the LTTE and begin political negotiations. Its unexpected fallout was the defeat of the EPDP at the last general election. The Thamil Engal Uyir celebration this year was to celebrate Tamilness and its integral link to the LTTE leader.

The road from Murunkan to Muttharipputhurai is around 20 kilometres long. But the tar and the carpet have long disappeared and the road has deteriorated to an uneven dirt track that is interspersed by puddles of water. The vehicles raise clouds of dust when travelling on the dirt track and splash mud when negotiating the puddles.

Both sides of the road are mantled by thick foliage and undergrowth. At one on point the road spans Aruvi Aaru (Malwattu Oya), intimately connected with Sri Lanka’s ancient history. The forest hides a secret. Before the war began they were dotted by little hamlets - Jeevanagar, Pariyarikandal, Aruvi Aaru, Silvathurai, Alliranikottai and others. These villages thrived on agriculture, though those closer to the sea engaged in fishing. But today most of their residents are displaced and only an isolated group of huts may be spied through the vegetation.

What however transformed these scenes of desolation and hopelessness were the people who had come out of their huts to the see the cavalcade of vehicles with their babbling and effusive occupants. Among those little clumps of humanity - men, women, children standing dressed as trendily as they could afford - there remained life, a freshness and an eager curiosity that war, deprivation and death had not conquered.

Despite the state of the roads, there were decorations on either side. Triangular flags of maroon and gold cloth lined almost the entire way from Murunkan to the venue of the gala. They were interspersed by gokkola streamers and banners proclaiming, “Thamil engal uyir; avuyir Pirapakaran.”

A relaxation of militarism

“The organisation of the event was decentralised. We gave different tasks to the various voluntary and social service organisations in the area. For instance the MPCS was contracted to provide light and sound at the venue,” said an official involved in putting together the festival.

The entire venture, including the logistics to transport the people from the ‘cleared’ areas and the overall co-ordination, was undertaken by the Tamil National Alliance (TNA) members of parliament and their respective party cadre.

The road from Murunkan leads to Alliranikottai that fronts the ocean. It is flat land with sparser vegetation than in the interior. The horizon is dominated by a tower that had once been used as a lighthouse. Mutthuraripputhurai that is three kilometres from Alliranikottai, was famous for its pearl fishery. Alliranikottai boasts of a ruined fortress that was the Dutch governor’s residence during the pearl fishing season when the island was under Dutch imperial power.

The commitment of the organisers of Thamil Engal Uyir; Avuyir Pirapakaran, was first seen at Alliranikottai. The entire three kilometre distance from there to Mutthuraripputhurai was lined by red and gold poles bedecked by garlands made of multicoloured polythene. What was eye-catching, although the material used in making these adornments was non-biodegradable, was the labour that had gone into turning out something that was simple, yet wonderfully attractive.

The celebrations proper took place at the Roman Catholic Mixed School, Muttharipputhurai.

By 4.00 p.m. a considerable crowd had already gathered there. Most of them were organisers, but it included others too.

“We have a big problem with filling vacancies for teachers in the Mannar Education Zone, “ said B. S. Emilculas, Assistant Director of Education, Mannar Zone, who was among those gathered there.

He said that most vacancies were for English teachers, while there were also places in the science and mathematics streams as well as in the primary section. He said though the provincial ministry of education had been appraised of the problem, it had not been satisfactorily resolved.

Otherwise, the ceasefire had facilitated a relaxation of militarism, which had been pervading the area during the past years. Schools such as the Maha Vidyalayam at Vannamottai had been occupied by the security forces, forcing students to study at Uyilankulam. “But with the ceasefire, the principal, staff and students are hoping to return to Vannamottai and make a new beginning”, Emilculas said. Similarly, the Sri Lanka army that was occupying St. Anthony’s Church premises in Thalaady had agreed to leave the area on a directive ordering that places of religious worship had to be vacated. Mass had not been said at St. Anthony’s for the duration of the military’s occupation, but the place was now open to the public.

“A problem is simmering with the recruitment of volunteer teachers for schools in the area. Though applications have been called, interviews are yet to be held, causing restiveness among the applicants,” said K. Perimbathasan who is an assistant director of education in the same zone.

By around 5.00 p.m. the celebrations proper began. The formal opening was with the procession winding its way from Alliranikottai to Mutthariputhurai. Standing at the entrance to the Musali divisional secretariat office, the vanguard of the procession seemed innocuous enough. There was the van with the loudspeaker shouting instructions to the procession.

The van passed and behind it came the public. And they came and they came and they came. Crowds poured into the venue even past midnight. It is estimated that more than 20,000 persons attended the Thamil Engal Uyir function. They spent the night there braving the chill and getting drenched by the dew.

One reason for their late entrance was logistical. It appears that nobody expected such a multitude to turn up, including the organisers. The public transport system in Mannar, fragile at the best of times, found it very difficult to cope with the demands made on it.

“When I arrived at the Pesalai bus stand to come to the function at about 2.00 p.m., there were about five bus loads of people waiting for transport. I was lucky because I was able to get a school bus, the others were not so fortunate,” said Charles Navaratnarajakulas from Pesalai.

Some people from places like Thaalvadu, Vengalaipaadu and Mannar, realising that waiting for public transport was futile, came to the venue in fishing boats.

As the crowd grew in size, problems of channeling such a large number towards the venue became a problem. Although at no time did it appear that the multitude was beyond control, an expedient had to be devised to make its entrance onto the grounds more orderly.

“Women and children first”

“Please pay attention. Since there is such a large number of people waiting to enter the venue, women and children will go first. Mothers with their children may start moving forward now,” the public address system announced. Although it had to be repeated a few times, the ranks of advancing humanity parted, allowing the women and children to enter first. The males would follow later.

In southern Sri Lanka, controlling crowds by giving preference to women and children is hardly heard of today. At least it has not come to the attention of this writer. It is said that in the good old days “women and children first” was a command in passenger liners when tragedy compelled the captain to abandon ship. But whether it is practised anywhere in the world in these modern times, is debatable. But in the backwoods of Muttharipputhurai it served as an admirable method of crowd control.

The deprivation and hardship suffered by the people of the area have made them modify familiar institutions and put them into innovative use. In a part of the country where the police does not undertake any civilian functions but is seen as an agency of the state tasked to oppress the public, who looks after traffic control?

The job had been entrusted to the boy scouts. “Whenever officials ask us to help out in a difficult situation we so do,” said Jayatharan Lambert of the 4th Rover Scouts, Vengalai.

He said there are five troops of rover scouts totaling around 150 in the Mannar district. They compliment the approximately 400 scouts attached to the schools in the district. The scouts are called upon to lend a hand in various ways at religious, cultural and other events including giving first aid. Their upkeep is through the monies collected from the public.

“We get involved during the annual Madhu feast day when there are massive crowds coming to Mannar. There are also other events where we offer our services,” Lambert said.

The meeting itself was politically less pugnacious than what many expected. In the front row by the stage were senior officials both from the provincial council and central government. This included divisional secretaries, grama sevakas, departmental heads and school principals, clad formally in silk vertis or saris as they would at an official function.

“It is remarkable the way the organisers have given the Thamil Engal Uyir celebrations a semi-official air with government officers seated here as if for a state function,” remarked an analyst wryly.

While the presence of these government and local government workers gave the event a semi-official touch, there was another presence, also from the government, which was not so welcome by the organisers. It was known that agents from the security forces and police would mingle with the crowd and use the opportunity to take pictures or gather other data useful to them. However, the organisers did not seem to see it leading to a major breach in security.

A celebration of common identity

“Thamil Engal Uyir shows that military oppressions have not broken the spirit of Tamils,” said N. Sivasakthi Anandan (TNA-Wanni District) in the only politically significant speech that evening.

Though there was little overt political propaganda from the stage, there was plenty in the leaflets that were distributed. In essence the Thamil Engal Uyir; Avuyir Pirapakaran put forward demands for self-determination and a traditional homeland for the Tamils. It called for the military and Sinhala settlers to leave the homelands of the Tamils. What is more, it demanded the repeal of the PTA and release of those detained without trial under its provisions. It asked that the laws prohibiting fishing and imposing an economic ban on the Tamil areas be withdrawn.

But what spoke more eloquently than public addresses and the leaflets was the symbolism that went with the event. At times it was subtle, at others not, but carried a potent message of what the powers that be in the area felt and thought. The symbolism was supplemented by the messages embedded in the song, dance and drama that were to follow on the heels of the speeches.

The Thamil Engal Uyir; Avuyir Pirapakaran festival was the continuation of the Ponguthamil Eurchchi that was successfully celebrated in many parts of the north-east. It was essentially a proclamation of a common identity. But the celebration of a common identity necessarily needs a root. That root is the struggle for self-determination and a homeland, epitomised by Velupillai Prabhakaran.

Symbolic presence of Prabhakaran

What hit one between the eyes at the Thamil Engal Uyir; Avuyir Pirapakaran celebrations was the significant watering down of sentiments associated with enmity. Though there was harking back to the atrocities committed against the Tamils by depicting and referring to suffering and loss, there was no overt demonisation of the Sinhala. It might have been because of the ceasefire or because there are moves to de-emphasise it as part of a different policy. Whatever it was, the effort was deliberate and conscious.

Even the slogans did not cast any derogatory remarks on the Sinhalese. Neither was there a blatant attempt at spitting venom at the security forces, or even in caricaturing them. The idea seemed to be to give vent to the suffering the Tamils have undergone through song, dance and drama as part of a process of catharsis rather than pour invective on the ‘other.’

The second set of symbols (or a lack of them) is associated with militarism. Firstly, there was not one armed or uniformed fighter of the LTTE seen. There was a complete absence of them. This produced a very agreeable effect among those from the south. This lack of visible presence was supplemented in symbolism associated with the festival. There were no illustrations of uniforms, weapons or any other military hardware to be seen. The grimness of war was of course depicted, but in stylised illustrations of death, injury and loss.

The presence of the LTTE was however portrayed in a different way. All the streamers and flags that fluttered that evening were red and gold, an unequivocal reminder of the Tigers. However, there was no Tiger flag seen anywhere that made these associations obvious.

The third set of symbols is closely connected to the second. Though there was an emphasis on the civil rather than the military and a complete absence of armed Tiger fighters, the festival celebrating Tamilness - Thamil Engal Uyir; Avuyir Pirapakaran - traced the spirit of Tamilness to one man - Velupillai Prabhakaran.