A Lilliputian’s Try for Peace

by T. Somasekaram

The purpose of writing this article is to draw the lessons given at the end, at this critical juncture in our country’s affairs. I regret very much that I have to write about myself, in order to lend authority to what is stated. Somerset Maugham has written that the use of the First Person Singular ‘I’ limits imaginative writing but lends authority to what is written. I do not suffer from ‘I disease’ but in this case, it has become necessary.

It was the year 1986. I was then a Deputy Surveyor General, Deputy Chairman of the National Atlas Committee, a Vice President of the Organisation of Professional Associations, Vice President of my home and so on. Comfortable number two positions with high-sounding titles but with no real power. Sri Lanka had by then changed from the Pearl of the Orient, Paradise on Earth, Dharmadweepa into a killing field drenched with human blood. People of my vintage, in particular those belonging to my segment in our multicultural society, Tamil Hindu, having absorbed the teachings of Mahatma Gandhi during our youth, were deeply troubled by the accelerating violence and bloodshed. We thought about what we could do to bring peace to our land. This was the subject of many discussions and brainstorming sessions in the OPA and ideas were expressed whether the professionals could play a part in bringing about peace.

But who was to bell the cat? No formal authority was given to me, but I thought that in my next visit to Jaffna, where my wife and children lived, I would test the waters and report back to the OPA.

First Try in 1986

On my next visit to Jaffna, after worshipping at the Nallur Kandaswamy Kovil in the evening, bare-bodied as usual, clad in verti and shawl, I got down from my bicycle in front of the gate of the LTTE office about 200 metres in front of the temple, and entered the premises. It would be an understatement to say I was nervous - almost terrified would be nearer the truth. Night had fallen. As I entered through the gate, I could see young men in camouflage uniforms, rifles at the ready, behind the flower plants and crotons. I pushed my bicycle along slowly through the garden towards the large house which was their office, because a sudden unexpected movement might result is their letting go with their rifles. There was an aluminium shed constructed in front of the house, where people who had problems were expected to wait, the members of the LTTE being inside the house. I parked my bicycle, went to the shed and was asked to sit on a chair in front of a small desk. I told the young man who had attended to me that I wanted to meet someone in authority. He went inside the house; I noticed some papers on the desk in front of me and an odd looking paper weight. It was a hand grenade! I almost beat a hasty retreat, as I had no clue how or when or why these things explode. But having come so far, why not remain and say my piece? So I remained seated on the chair.

Eight Coloured Matchsticks

Soon a young man whom I judged to be about 22 years - I was 53 - came and sat down and asked me what I wanted. I told him that I wanted to talk about settling the problem facing the country. I had gone prepared for the meeting with eight (8) matchsticks, 6 coloured yellow, one coloured orange and one half green and half red. I told him that according to the 1981 Census figures, the four communities in Sri Lanka could be represented by the matchsticks. Out of the total of eight, six coloured yellow represented the Sinhalese, the one coloured orange represented Sri Lanka Tamils and the last, coloured green and red, represented the Muslims and Up Country Tamils combined. I told him that according to my understanding, only in South Indian Tamil films could the single orange matchstick defeat the six yellow matchsticks, but not in real life. It was therefore better to settle. He put up his hand and told me “Sir (Iyah), please wait. I will send another person to talk to you”. The entire conversation, throughout the evening, on their part, was in pure Tamil, unadulterated with Sanskrit or English words. I used colloquial Tamil. He went in and his place was taken by a younger man, perhaps 18 or 19 years. I later understood the reason for the switch. The first person had been from the fighting wing; the second person was from the political wing of the LTTE.

I told my story once again using my matchsticks. I was then an officer of the Government with 30 years of service in the staff grade, with much experience in sitting on selections boards for recruitment and promotions. In fact I could spot vegetarians by their appearance and if I asked the question whether a candidate was a vegetarian, my assessment was invariably correct. Once a very fair Sinhala girl came and I spotted that not only was she a vegetarian but must belong to the Dr. E.W.Adikaram family, because she wore no gold jewellery at all and even her ears were not pierced. I asked her whether she was connected to Dr. Adikaram and she said she was his niece. (Now she is high up in the Forest Department but we recall with good humour our first meeting across the interview table.) The reason for beating my own drum here is to convey the information that I did have the ability to assess people.

I did not realise that the teenager sitting across would assess me. He asked, “Sir, you are working in the Survey Department?” to which I answered yes. “Can you get us a few maps?” “Oh, no, there is very tight security about maps and there is no way I can get you any map” I answered truthfully.

President J.R.Jayewardene had summoned the then Surveyor General Mr. S.D.F.C. Nanayakkara to his Ward Place residence at midnight one day and made a direct order, “Stop the sale of all maps from tomorrow”. SG not only conveyed the order to all offices but went to the extent of recalling all maps lying in our sales outlets in the District Offices and storing them safely in our Head Office in Colombo. When this flat rule proved unworkable, as even school children could not be given outline maps of Sri Lanka for their studies, a Liaison Committee was set up between the SL Army and the Survey Department to decide on which maps could be sold without restriction, which needed SG’s personal sanction, which maps needed Army clearance on SG’s recommendation and the rest which could not be sold or issued at all. The restrictions apply even now. As the Deputy Surveyor General in charge of mapping, I was very much involved in this matter.

Look of Utter Contempt

As soon as I answered that I could not give any maps, I saw a look of utter contempt cross the young man’s face. I could read his thoughts. Here he was, a teenager, prepared to die for his cause - he was wearing his cyanide capsule - and in front of him was a middle aged Government servant, who could not produce a few maps for them, but wanted to talk of settling the national question. But he continued to listen courteously. I told him that earlier agreements failed because the Sinhala leaders were weak men who wilted under pressure but J.R.Jayewardene was a tough man who would implement any agreement reached. I told him that after JR, the others to follow would be men of the earlier calibre, and it was best to accept the Provincial Councils that President Jayewardene was offering. This was well before the Indo-Sri Lanka accord.

The young man’s response was direct. “Okay. Let us assume that we come to an agreement and Provincial Councils are created and we elect a Chief Minister. We have to disarm, but the Army, being the national army, will remain in place. Two years later, our Chief Minister is dismissed. Where do we stand? We have lost 3,000 fighters and their loss would have been in vain”. I asked him lamely whether there was no understanding on these matters and he replied there were none. So I bade him goodbye, walked to my bicycle and cycled home.

I returned to Colombo and duly reported my venture in Jaffna to the OPA. Many of my OPA colleagues felt that it was a legitimate question that must be faced and answered if progress was to be made. The President of the OPA at that time, asked “Can you guarantee our safety if we go to Jaffna?” I replied, “Can you guarantee that I will not be killed by a private bus smashing into my car on my way home today?” But it was known that if the LTTE allowed people to enter, they ensured their safety. But our initiative did not proceed further.

Five Years Later

My second contact was five years later, in 1991, after President Jayewardene had retired, President Premadasa was in power and the Indian Army had come, wrought havoc and left. I also had risen to the number one position of Surveyor General in the Survey Department. The LTTE was in control of the areas north of Omantai but with several major Army camps, including Elephant Pass, still functioning. General Hector Kobbekaduwa and my friend Brigadier (later General) Vijaya Wimalaratne were the Military top brass in Jaffna.

An emergency within our family circle necessitated that I, as the senior male member, travel to Jaffna immediately, in Nov 1991. It was quite a sudden decision we had to take. I telephoned the Addl. Surveyor General, Mr. S.Berugoda, who was also an early riser, at 5.00 am and told him that I was catching the Yal Devi at 5.45 that morning and to inform the Secretary/Lands asking for leave for me and also to carry out my duties in the Survey Department. I told him that my date of return was uncertain and it might be even two weeks. He told me not to worry about the office and he would do the needful. I took a train from Dehiwala to Fort and got into the Yal Devi, carrying a light bag, with just one change of clothes plus some sandwiches and a bottle of boiled and cooled water, which was to come in very handy indeed as it turned out.

The train reached Vavuniya where we all had to get down and proceed by bus to Omantai beyond which the LTTE was in control. Mr. Berugoda had done more than what I needed. He had telephoned the Supdt. of Police, Vavuniya (Mr. Anandarajan, who is now very near the top in his Department) and told him that I was going to Jaffna and to help me. The result was that a Police jeep was waiting outside the Vavuniya Railway Station when I got down and the driver told me that Mr. Anandarajan, S.P. wanted to meet me. I was going into LTTE controlled territory and the last thing I wanted was to travel about in a Police jeep and be noted as a possible Police informant. I would have preferred humble anonymity. But it would have been churlish to refuse Mr. Anandarajan’s invitation and so I went and met him and we had a long chat. I was then taken in the Police jeep and put in the bus to Omantai.

No Man’s Land

Two miles of ‘No Man’s Land’ separated the areas controlled by the Government and the LTTE. It was November, the wettest month in Sri Lanka, and the area had received a lot of rainfall. A thriving business had developed, with cyclists from the adjoining villages, volunteering to take passengers and baggage on the pillion of their bicycles for Rs. 200. The two-mile stretch of road was wet and muddy with cow dung all over the place. But I didn’t fancy my 6 foot 85 kg frame being on the pillion of a bicycle being ridden by an emaciated villager nor did I like the more humane alternative of my cycling with the villager seated on the pillion. What is a two-mile walk to a Surveyor? So I walked the two miles avoiding the mud holes and cow dung patches and reached the LTTE’s checkpoint.

Inside LTTE Controlled Territory

These were cadjan sheds manned by young men. Neat and orderly. We had to write down the address from where we were coming, the address of the place where we would stay in the north, personal particulars such as employment and the reason for the visit. I had no difficulty with the other information to be supplied, but about Employment, there was a problem. I was a Surveyor by profession and could truthfully say ‘Surveyor’ but the ordinary meaning is that a Surveyor is not in the staff grade. I held the post of Surveyor General and if I just wrote ‘Surveyor’ and they discovered later that I was the Surveyor General, there could be trouble that I tried to mislead them. So I wrote truthfully ‘Surveyor General’. I suppose that the information in the lists would have been scanned by more senior cadres later and they would have got to know that the head of a large Government Department, involved in Surveying and Mapping, had travelled to Jaffna.

At the checkpoint, there were rickety vans, with wooden bench seats, to take us all the way to the Elephant Pass lagoon. Again strict order and discipline. No standing passengers, but five persons had to sit in a bench seat meant for four. About three vans started the long journey after nightfall, with no headlights. We were told that it was to avoid getting bombed from the air. First stop was at Puliyankulam, for dinner. In the earlier days, when I was a frequent traveller by road, Puliyankulam was always a welcome stop for meals, because apart from the normal rice and curry, frequently venison and wild boar were available. I got down from the van eagerly, to have a full repast before proceeding further north. Sad disappointment. Food had become scarce, there was not much traffic along the road to support the boutiques and most had closed. We had very plain fare in the single boutique that was open. Then back to our packed van and northwards.

Next stop was the wayside shrine of Murikandy. A growth resembling the face of Lord Ganesha had grown on a Palu tree near the road many decades earlier and a small temple - cadjan covered had been built and it had become a compulsory halting place for all travellers passing that way, because the belief had grown that unless you stopped and worshipped at the shrine, you would not proceed much further without a mishap befalling you. Naturally, boutiques had sprung up and thrived, selling temple offerings plus vegetarian meals and tea.

Travelling in a Tractor Trailer

We passed very familiar landmarks, my old survey camp at Kilinochchi, and at Paranthan the van swung east into the Mullaitivu Road. In 1991, the crossing of Elephant Pass was on the eastern side of the road and bridge, later it was on the western side and Kilali became a well-known place. After several miles, the van stopped near a school and we were informed that the van would not proceed further. Because of heavy winds, no boats had crossed the lagoon for three days and there were a lot of people who had come during the previous two days who had stayed at the school. Around midnight, a tractor with a trailer came and we were told that it was going towards Elephant Pass lagoon and those who wanted could travel in it. There was a mad rush for places in trailer; I too managed to find a place to squat. Have you travelled in a tractor trailer, travelling along uncharted jungle tracks, and that too after heavy rainfall? At three places, the tractor got stuck and we all had to get down and push the tractor to make it move again. Like the van, the tractor also came to a stop about two miles from the beach and the driver told us that the flood water level was too high for him to proceed. We had to get down and walk, in pitch darkness. First the water was knee deep; it kept on rising till it was waist high. An unexpected dip in the path and we were down to armpit level. At last, real dog-tired, I reached the lagoon beach, along with the others who had travelled in the tractor-trailer.

Dreamless Sleep on Soggy Ground

I had expected a few people to be waiting for the boats. But there was a dense crowd. There had been no boats for three days due to strong winds and rain and all the people who had come to cross were stranded on the small promontory. The crowd was not only the travellers from Colombo. Many goods were in very short supply in Jaffna and able bodied men there went to Vavuniya, bought a cycle and as much goods as they could carry on the pillion and cycled back 50 miles to Elephant Pass. Once inside Jaffna, not only the goods but even the bicycle would be sold at a good profit.

On the promontory, no building or protection of any sort. Just open scrubland, near the lagoon. Wet and soggy underneath. I stood for some time because it was too wet to sit, and then squatted down on my haunches, in a space about one metre by one metre. Then I put my bag down, took a sip of water from my water bottle and lay down in the foetal position - my height is 180 cm, so no question of stretching out - soaked to the skin including my socks and shoes, and fell fast asleep. Imagine the scene. Mr. T. Somasekaram, Sri Lanka Sikhamani, Surveyor General of Sri Lanka, was fast asleep on the soggy ground in the foetal position, as there was no room to even stretch his legs. I woke after a dreamless deep sleep of a few hours at dawn and faced another problem. Morning ablutions. Easing oneself behind a tree is nothing to a Surveyor but here there was a crowd including many ladies. Walked about 200 metres, gingerly avoiding human excreta from the three previous days. Managed to find a place with some privacy, eased myself, washed myself - fortunately a cake of soap and toothpaste and toothbrush were in my bag - and got back to the place near which I had slept.

We did not know how many days we had to wait. But a sudden buzz arose a few hours later. One boat was sighted from the other shore, coming towards us. Then another and another. We were in luck. There was a mad scramble to get into the boats but all were accommodated. The boats started their journey towards the northern shore of the lagoon, poled across. We could see the Elephant Pass army camp clearly on our left. Suddenly there was a roar and three high-powered LTTE boats flashed past us. We had a real sinking feeling, because if there was firing from the Army camp, we could have been hit. At last we reached the Jaffna peninsula. Here there were some boutiques to eat and rickety vans. Again, no standing passengers but packed tight. Not a comfortable ride but we were nearing home. I got off near the Nallur Kandaswamy Kovil, worshipped from outside and walked home.

So, 36 hours after leaving our home in Dehiwala, I had reached our home in Jaffna. On the following day I attended to the urgent matter I had come for, possible major surgery for cancer of the abdomen of a close lady relative, but in a few days, final tests showed that it was not cancer and no need for surgery. So time to get back. Earlier the LTTE had collected two sovereigns of gold from every family in Jaffna, with the undertaking that it would be repaid, which they honoured in at least a few cases. We had not given the two sovereigns. When it became necessary for me to travel to Jaffna, my wife had pulled out two of her bangles and given them to me to be given if necessary. I went to their office where this had to be done, some distance from our home. One thing about men with guns is that they can be very uncouth and rude if they choose, because we cannot fight back. I was met with extreme discourtesy and after hanging around for a few hours, I returned home in disgust without handing over the two sovereigns. The relevance is that unless there was proof that we had given the two sovereigns, the permit to return to Dehiwala would not be given. That evening, I was surprised to see two senior members of the Students Wing, then allied to the LTTE come to my home. They asked for me and when I met them, they apologised for the shabby treatment I had received earlier in the day and told me that I could apply for the permit the following day and leave.

The Weeping Commander

The following morning, I went to the office of their Jaffna Area commander, on Colombuthurai road, just in front of Chundikuli Girls College. The Area Commander was a small made young man around 30 years, in uniform, with a handgun and wearing the cyanide capsule. There was a rifle propped up against the wall behind him. We spoke about the problems and then something totally unexpected happened. “Our people have suffered a great deal” he said and broke down and wept. Tears streamed down his face. It was not a put-on show. He really felt grief at the plight of the people.

C. Yogaratnam’s Son

A Pajero drove up and a man dressed in civilian clothes entered the building. Clearly he was a senior leader of the LTTE. I was told that he was Yogi, then the third in the LTTE hierarchy. His full name was Yogaratnam Yogi and I knew that he was the son of Mr. C.Yogaratnam, Supdt. of Surveys, a friend and former colleague. Mr. Yogaratnam had served in Anuradhapura for many years as he had a middle class allotment of land in Saliyapura which he had developed to its full potential. He asked for and was given his home station Jaffna only for the last three years of his service. He was an ideal public servant of that vintage. He was totally honest about public money, was a teetotaller and a Gandhian in outlook. As a result of the troubles bedevilling our land, he lost his land at Saliyapura. While living in retirement in Jaffna, he had been beaten up severely and repeatedly by the Indian Army when they were in occupation of Jaffna on their learning that he was Yogi’s father and he died as a result. Yogi’s mother was a daughter of Mr. P. Thampu, who had been a teacher at Jaffna Hindu College when I was a student there.

He sat down in the room of the area commander and we had a brief talk. He was a confident and extrovert personality and slapped his thigh and laughed out aloud when he said that they got all the maps they needed from the Sri Lanka Army. Now we come to the serious point and I try to quote exactly what he said. “We like President Premadasa. He is a teetotaller, does not drink or smoke and is a vegetarian. We can arrive at an agreement with him. But does he have the backing to carry out an agreement?” At that time, President Premadasa was thought to be all powerful and running a ‘one man show’. (The attempt to impeach him came later.) But a senior leader of the LTTE had serious misgivings whether any agreement would be honoured in word and deed, over a long period of time, or whether a change of government would result in all agreements going by the board.

So, both in 1986, a teenager far down their hierarchy and in 1991, the No. 3 in the hierarchy, lacked confidence that the Government of Sri Lanka could be relied on to implement agreements reached. Let me give just a small illustration. An amendment to the constitution passed in 1987 granted official status to Sinhala and Tamil with English as a link language.

But after 15 years, in 2002, if you travel along Galle Road, the Kollupitiya Police station adjoining Temple Trees has a signboard only in Sinhala and English. I have just come back from paying my telephone bills at SL Telecom in Ratmalana. There are three counters, with three name boards, “Bill Payments” in English and Sinhala, with the English on top. Should it not be Sinhala, Tamil and English, in that order? All that is required of the government to implement the constitutional provision is to send out a short circular that the official language policy given in the constitution must be implemented and that failure to do so would result in the retirement for inefficiency of the Ministry Secretary, Head of Department, Deputy in charge of Administration, Chief clerk and subject Clerk. I will take a bet that within one month, implementation would be 100 %.

Now, in 2002, the stakes are much higher. According to their own reports, the LTTE has lost over 16,000 fighters. Total losses exceed 60,000 lives. The peace process has just started but even an ordinary layman can see that Sihala Urumaya, JVP, and several contributors to the national newspapers are opposed to talks and an honourable settlement. If the PA is seen to give support only in name and await their chance to trip up the Government, the LTTE will not have the confidence to arrive at an agreement.

The assumption is also made that the LTTE is a monolith under the total control of one man. I do not know whether any human organisation can be a monolith, as we saw in the case of Nazi Germany, Stalin’s USSR - and the plight of Yasser Arafat at present. There are likely to be young men within the movement who will think, ‘Having come so far and lost so many comrades, why settle for anything less than independence?’

While talking to a highly respected senior public servant, a Sinhala gentleman who had served in Jaffna during the start of his career, I told him, “Handshake with the Sinhalese, yes. Deep bow to anyone, particularly South India, definitely no”. “I know that very well” he answered, “The Jaffna man is a proud man. He will not be a vassal to anyone”.

Conditions in Jaffna

Though a Hindu born and bred, when confronted with real emergencies, many of us appeal to the deities of other religions as well. In Jaffna there is a St. Anthony’s Church in Gurunagar, and he is thought to be a miracle giver, providing relief when desperately needed. Normally, we take a vow to light some candles and give some hoppers to the poor in the vicinity of the Church. I had taken such a vow about the medical emergency we faced. So, taking some hoppers for the poor, I went to St. Anthony’s Church during my visit to Jaffna. There were no candles to be bought in the church or anywhere in the vicinity. I cycled to Jaffna town and tried everywhere. Not a single candle in the whole of Jaffna town, to fulfill a vow I had made to St. Anthony. I cycled back to the Church. A Rev Father was attending to some matters in the altar and I went near him and told him my plight and asked him whether I could light coconut oil lamps, which we do in Hindu and Buddhist temples. He readily agreed. I went to a boutique nearby, bought coconut oil, wicks and a few earthen vessels, lit them inside the Church, knelt and thanked St. Anthony from my heart, went outside, gave the hoppers to the poor people and went home.

No electricity, no telephone, medical supplies short, a coconut costing Rs.80, torch batteries in the black market at fantastic prices, needed to put on the radio for 15 minutes to listen to the news. This was the life of the ordinary man. I travelled back along the same route, wading through waist deep water at Elephant Pass and reached Vavuniya. Went to a telephone booth and called my home. Silence for several minutes after the receiver was lifted. My wife could not speak through strong emotion, finally breaking down and weeping with relief, that I had survived and was on the way home.

Last Chance