by Goolbai Gunsekara

Life can be exciting. Murky at times of course, but often happier than deserved. Elections are over and a systems change is in place, pleasing many of us mightily and most of us hopefully.

The oppressed, repressed and inevitably depressed populace necessitate –nay- demand a radical change in any country. The Gaza tragedy of a crumbling state, the unchecked, vulpine attitude of Israel, the appalling disasters climate change is inflicting on the world and the unchecked militarization of many nations is causing a miasmic cloud that is growing in intensity and spares no one. Sri Lanka is better off than most would you not agree?

Elections

I am no political analyst. I only know what I like and right now I feel the country is adopting a progressive stance which many of us favour. The hoped for and expected victory by the NPP is satisfying indeed and it is a matter of national pride to know that our new Prime Minister is the BEST qualified Prime Minister in the world at this moment

However, there is no doubt that the new Government of Sri Lanka MUST be aware that with its hoped for victory come responsibilities and consequences. Voters are being faced with a fascinating kaleidoscope of personalities. Many are unknown which can be a good thing. Academic qualifications are a great plus point for any candidate and many of the new politicians have them.

Within the older parties there is no doubt that their days of supremacy are ended. Most of the former uneducated bunch we have been forced to put up with earlier will fade into the sunset (we hope). In short, most of us have a rare feeling of anticipation despite some surprising entries to Parliament on the National List.

Political opinions

Personal loyalties are certainly meant to be sacrosanct but political loyalties need constant re-assessing. The follies of formerly ‘Good’ politicians have quite stunned me (and others) of late. To remain unchanged in one’s political opinions smacks of a lazy and unthinking mind. Early opinions MUST change as better as abler people will constantly become available for public office.

The Opposition

I admired Mr. Premadasa Snr’s ability in getting work done. He was a hardworking and achieving leader and expected those working for him to be ready and available whenever he called. He had a plan for the country and the ability to inspire those who came within his purview. I am not touching on his faults here.

But his son does not have his drive nor his leadership qualities.

Sajith Premadasa speaks well in both Sinhala and English but is unnecessarily critical and does not seem to realize the an Opposition leader is not meant to voice his opposition ALL the time. We are now in a state where we hope for success in bringing Sri Lanka back to prosperity. Criticizing the Government before it has time to even turn round and breathe, reflects poorly on the critic.

The vital need for English

We need English.(Again my opinion which is not always popular,) What little we have now is inadequate. Here are Lee Kwan Yew’s three Guidelines for his outstanding success in making the undeveloped little State he inherited into mega achieving one it is today.

· He chose English for the new state of Singapore over the impassioned demands of nationalists for a language of their own.

· He employed the best intellectuals available including the British from whom Singapore had only recently gained independence.

· And finally he made incorruptibility almost a religion.

Is it not sad to remember that he made Sri Lanka of 1947 his model to emulate?

A financial sideline

Perhaps the Govt. can make life a little easier for themselves and the Govt. Schools by requesting that those who can afford to pay something towards education should do so. This need not infringe on the Free Education Act. Those who need Free Education should be provided with it but we find it a little unfair that often millionaire offspring are educated in Govt. schools. A system COULD be devised to temporarily help with the enormous cost of bringing English to all and yet retain the national Languages as has India.

Religion in schools

Let me make my usual impassioned plea that religion should NOT be taught in schools as an exam subject. The high crime rate of Sri Lanka is mute testimony of the failure of this religious teaching.

Here is the alternative I suggest that will RAISE understanding and suppress the antisocial elements raising their heads among school children…. suicide being one of them. Religion is a parent’s responsibility. It is not the responsibility of some uncaring and untrained teacher who is trying to complete a syllabus and prepare a student for an exam rather than stressing on the moral side of religion.

These teachers of religion in Government schools are regarded as Archangel Gabriels trumpeting out the syllabuses touted by our Dept. of Education. How can this inconsequential and impersonal religious training take the place of parental teaching of the tenets of their OWN religion to their OWN children? Are parents too lazy to do so? It is so easy to pass on the responsibility to the school and most schools care only for exam results not for the mental health of the child.

Let us rather teach VALUE EDUCATION as an alternative to religion in schools. ALL Sri Lankan students will thus be united in schools at least. As a Principal of Asian International school some years ago, this is a system I tried with much success and parental popularity before the Government insisted that even International Schools must teach ONLY the student’s religion to him/her. Immediately classes were divided into four and students of International Schools were separated by religion. Is national unity even possible under such ridiculous educational systems?

Society and social life

To those who criticize big weddings, lavish parties, fashion pictures and public social interaction I would ask what harm all this’ hoo-haa’ does? Basically we are social beings. Everybody needs friends around. Whether the number is just one or one thousand the principle of interaction is the same.

Those who can afford to splurge are circulating money after all. Hotels benefit, caterers benefit, shops benefit, tailors and fashion designers benefit and the ripple effect ensures that money circulates. Any objections?

Teaching English (a few further thoughts.)

One hopes that our new government will make English accessible to all AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. The expense of any system change will be horrendous. Perhaps parents could be given options? Diehard chauvinists could study in Sinhala if they wish but those who want English should have the right to chose it as their medium of instruction.

There is no doubt that the sheer numbers of those choosing an English education will stun the chauvinistic nationalists who equate language with patriotism. The problems involving all this change boggles the mind. Where are the teachers? Where is the money?

BUT a start must be made. How and where this can be done I have no idea. But I know it is possible. Nakedly displayed authority is usually anathema, but here is one time it may be necessary in order to upgrade our education. Obviously it will have to be done in stages and those left out of the first stage are going to feel by-passed. Governments may have to close their ears to such laments and explain the progressive plan of new syllabuses to critics who abound in Sri Lanka… alas!

The police

Until recently we regarded the Police with a jaundiced eye. We accepted nothing could be done without influence or bribery. Policeman were polite enough over minor infractions but no one really expected a follow through of any complaint unless backed (as said earlier) by higher authority.

I give a composite example. A poor woman (lets call her Mani) has three children. Her husband starts an affair with a younger woman and abandons her to live with his paramour. Mani goes to the Police who actually advise her to put up with it. In several other cases I know of, the Police have taken no special action. Is the police empowered to act I wonder? Husband abuse their wives physically. Police action is as undependable as the monsoons.

But there is a sudden change. Mani tells me that her latest complaint (yesterday) was heeded by a polite policeman who actually wrote down her complaint and promised to act. And why did she go again yesterday? She had been told, that of late, the police are running scared themselves. One can see with great satisfaction, that the formerly inexorable lines of authority of the police are being challenged, AT LAST, by a strong President.

Garbage

I live in Kotte. Between the garbage collectors and myself there exists a guarded neutrality…a kind of semi-cordial one. The lorry comes down my way ONCE a week. Is this acceptable? Does my local municipality condone this? Garbage is stored in polythene and if these bags are not waiting at the gate for the Lordships of the garbage truck, the house is simply by-passed. If the bags ARE sitting at the gate they are torn open by every passing stray dog so every Monday morning the whole household is on alert for the shout that tells us of the is approach of our weekly saviour!! Surely there MUST be a better method?

Yet every so often there arrives an unannounced health inspector to check on the state of our garbage and puddles of water collection. A few months ago my birdbath was full of water. (Why else would I have a bird bath) .The inspector claimed this was illegal as the bottom of the bird bath was slimy. In his opinion this attracted the dengue mosquito. As he was about to slap a Rs.25,000 fine on us I remembered a VIP who could help. He did – but what would I have done if he did not?. The birdbath still provides water for thirsty birds. For the record the birdbath was NOT slimy.

Security

One read of the enormous amount of security that used to be provided to undeserving ex VIPs. Most of our ex-Presidents including, the Rajapaksas, are not exactly that unpopular and I fail to understand why they need all this protection. Once they lose power no one wants to hurt them. To what end after all?

Customs

Customs officers have been making millions we were told . So it seems a just punishment if they are made to pay back some of the loot, Deterrents to corruption are vital.

Dr. Shafi

It was also great to read that poor Dr Shafi of Kurunegala has been cleared at last. To have put ANYONE through that long legal nightmare did not speak well for a modern state.

To conclude

Let us give time and opportunity to our brand new Government and a brand new system that is trying to make Sri Lanka a better place for all of us, and attempt to put our criticisms on hold for at least a year.

Her is some relevant humour which is so vital to any Government.

“Politicians must be able to foretell what will happen tomorrow, next month, or next year – and then plausibly explain why it didn’t happen.”

“The time God allots to us is like a beautiful piece of tissue which we embroider as best we can,” (Anatole France) Let us use our time to embroider the ‘Tissue of State’ as skillfully as possible. May Sri Lanka be spared the ignominy of trailing in the rear of these New Worlds that beckon so invitingly . May we be one of the nations that makes this attainment a brilliant success.

by Jayantha Perera

I retired from ADB in April 2011. ADB appointed me as a staff consultant without waiting for the mandatory ‘cooling off’ 12-month period expired. A memo signed by the President, a Vice President, and two Directors Generals of ADB stated why I should be re-recruited immediately. It stated, “Mr. Perera’s experience as a senior and highly respected member of ADB as a safeguard specialist makes him ideal for this position … He is a well-respected ADB staff and was one of ADB’s leading experts in the environment, involuntary resettlement, and indigenous people’s development issues; he was the only international staff member at ADB who had technical knowledge and expertise in all three safeguard areas……..”

One of my major assignments as a consultant was to conduct training in 10 Pacific countries for senior government officials on how to address social and environmental issues to meet ADB’s safeguard policy standards. Fiji, Samoa, Pohnpei, Tonga, Cook Islands and Marshall Islands were among the countries chosen. Each country offered its rich culture, natural beauty, and the opportunity to meet people with vivid personalities and experience paranormal encounters. Pohnpei, an island state in the Pacific, etched a dazzling world I will never forget.

Pohnpei and three island states form the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM) in the western Pacific Ocean. Pohnpei is the largest island in FSM, with a land area of 335 sq. kilometres. The other three states are Yap, Chuuk, and Kosrae. Pohnpei State also owns several small islands in the vast Pacific Ocean.

Pohnpei means ‘stone altar.’ Presumably, it refers to a large stone platform on the island. The island’s population is about 37,000. Its terrain is mountainous and jungle-covered. It is one of the wettest places on Earth, with an annual rainfall exceeding 7,600 mm. A circular, tarred, narrow road connects dispersed towns. Access to the interior, especially to hilly areas, is challenging.

The people are proud of their history and boast about Nan Madol, an ancient city-kingdom. Its civilisation flourished for 700 years, from the 10th century to the 17th century. Its downfall began with the arrival of Spanish sailors in the early 19th century, followed by whalers, traders, missionaries, educators, and colonisers. After the Spaniards, the Germans occupied it. During the Second World War, the Japanese captured it, and the USA took it from the Japanese in the late 1940s.

Locals suffered severely when colonisers plundered their treasures and destroyed cultural artefacts. Spaniards brought cholera and smallpox to Pohnpei, nearly annihilating the local population. The Japanese not only looted local treasures but also enslaved people. During the Second World War, Japanese warlords used local slaves to move heavy cannons to strategic mountaintops. Most of the workers died because of starvation and illnesses.

In 1986, Pohnpei became an independent state within FSM. The five traditional small kingdoms on the island constitute independent Pohnpei, and the Pohnpei State Council represents them. Kolonia is the capital of Pohnpei State, and Palikir is the capital of FSM. The two cities are adjacent to each other. The local kingdoms occasionally clash with the State Council on matters of development. About 10 years ago, for example, the State Council tried establishing a casino complex in the territory of a traditional kingdom. Its king opposed the proposal and took his protest to an international forum for arbitration.

English is the official language, and people consider themselves non-immigrant citizens of the United States. In other words, the USA guarantees they can become US citizens whenever they want. The currency in the country is the US dollar. Postage is paid in US$, and postal stamps are US postal stamps. A taxi charges one dollar to travel within Kolonia.

Fortunately, I got a seat on United Airlines from Honolulu to Kolonia. The Filipino hotel manager told me to wait a few hours before occupying my room. When I asked him why, he said hotel guests who had left in the morning might return if their flight was cancelled. The hotel’s policy is to accommodate such stranded travellers on a priority basis in the rooms they had occupied earlier.

I was tired, hungry, and sleepy. The manager gave me a hot tuna sandwich and coffee at the restaurant. He told me he could give me a room with a door facing the jungle behind the hotel. I feared small insects and reptiles might creep into my room after sunset. The incessant rain added a gloomy atmosphere to my fear. I could hear water gushing down a drain. Rainwater trickled down from the eves of the roof, flooding the narrow corridor in front of the room and making it slippery.

I moved into the room and slept several hours. When I woke up, it was dark and still raining. I did not know how to go to the restaurant. There was no telephone in my room. I was nervous about going to the bathroom. When I opened the tap in the bathroom, it took about five minutes to see clear water. I was reluctant to pull the shower curtain. When I pulled it, a six-legged, black, long, gecko-like creature was in the bathtub. The bathtub was cracked and dirty and covered with dead leaves. The room’s light bulb was weak, and the bathroom was not lit up to see what else was waiting there to meet me. I regretted my decision to occupy an outer room.

The manager came to take me to dinner. He had a strong flashlight and a large umbrella. I asked him about possibly moving to a room inside the hotel. But by then, the hotel was fully occupied. The manager told a Filipina woman to clean my room again and to keep a heater in it. I insisted that the bedsheets and pillows should also be changed. When I returned to my room after supper, it looked neat and smelled good. The gecko-like creatures had disappeared.

I had a free weekend in Pohnpei before leaving for Honolulu. The hotel manager suggested I hire his four-wheel drive Jeep and travel around the island. He charged me $100 for the trip, which included a driver-cum-guide, a lunch box, snacks, and soft drinks. He advised me to carry one-dollar bills with me to pay local taxes. I changed a 50-dollar note for one-dollar and five-dollar bills. The bills were dirty and discoloured; some were as hard as cardboard.

The Jeep was a rickety old van without a spare wheel. It spluttered dark, unburned diesel, and its engine noise was unbearable. Roger, the jeep driver, was a local young man with long hair and a ferocious-looking black beard. He carried a big, heavy knife. The hotel manager handed him food boxes and an umbrella.

I thought Roger might sacrifice me to a native god by cutting my neck at a remote place. I had read on Google about human sacrifices to gods on the island. I wished I had invited another hotel guest to accompany me, but it was too late. Roger promised to show me places that foreign visitors rarely visit. His offer made me more nervous. I told him that I should return to the hotel before 5 p.m.

Roger drove the old Jeep with care. He stopped the Jeep in front of churches to talk to his friends who came for the Sunday mass. Sometimes, he offered them a ride in the Jeep without asking me. At a church, at least 10 people entered the Jeep, and two sat next to me in the front seat, pushing me onto the gear shift. They were fat people dressed in large white shirts and baggy blue jeans. They had unshaven faces and unwashed mouths. They spoke English. They invited me to visit their church and to join them for a communal lunch. I politely declined the offer by saying I was on a tight travel programme and should return to Kolonia early.

Later, I visited a small Christian church. The church had a neat front yard, and a local artist had painted beautiful murals of the genesis and the crucifixion. I could see some well-thumbed prayer books and hymn books on a small table covered with an embroidered white tablecloth. The small board on the table invited donations. One could donate money by dropping dollar bills or cents into a small glass box, which a small padlock secured.

Several people were in the church, wearing their Sunday best. Men wore European clothes, and women wore long white dresses with beautiful shoes. Some of them had heavy makeup. All adult women wore head covers. Many devotees, especially the women, carried rosaries in their hands.

People sat in circles by the road and ate from large metal pots. Roger explained that Christians do not work on Sundays except for attending mid-morning service. They cook on Saturday and partook of it on Sunday after the church service. Pork was the main dish. Raw tuna fish competed with fried pork to be the best food item. Someone told me they had learned how to raise pigs and cook pork dishes from Filipino friends whose ancestors came with the Spaniards as cooks and servants.

Suddenly, Roger drove off the main road, saying he wanted to show me the statue of Henry Nanpie. The figure was about 100 metres from a protestant church and was on an elevated stone dais. I thought it was built of steel with a hollow interior. Henry was in an elite tailcoat with a walking stick in his right hand. Roger told me that Henry had lived in Pohnpei in the late 19th century and early 20th century. He was the son of a local army commander. His mother was an English woman – the daughter of an English beachcomber.

Henry inherited lots of land from his powerful father. Then, he wanted to acquire land from another local kingdom. Henry visited the kingdom’s palace carrying a loaded gun and a bag of goodies. He took the weapon to kill the king and the goodies to bribe palace servants to get their allegiance. When he saw the king in an inner palace chamber, he tried to kill the king. But his gun misfired. Then Henry aimed the weapon at a flowerpot and pulled the trigger. The bullet went through the flowerpot and damaged the wall behind it.

Henry cunningly claimed that he had supernatural powers and could stop a gun from firing a bullet. He explained to the king that before he aimed the weapon at the king, he had “charmed” the gun. Because of the charm, the gun misfired. After removing the charm from the gun, a bullet fired from it smashed the flowerpot. The king was amazed and convinced himself of Henry’s supernatural powers. The king asked him to be the kingdom’s protector offering him a mansion and a vast stretch of land.

Henry opened a large supply shop to supply food, water, oil, and labour to whaling ships in the Pacific. He used his new wealth to add more land to his estate. In Pohnpei, he established protestant groups and spread Western cultural practices and beliefs among the locals through them. Even today, local people consider him a semi-god who brought wealth and salvation to them and connected them with the outside world. Roger sang a folk song about Henry, which depicted Henry as a local god. A copper plaque beside his statue indicates that he still has admirers to spread, invent and reinvent myths about him.

Roger was hurrying me to go to the ruined capital of Nan Madol Kingdom. He told me that the kingdom was on the banks of a large lagoon connected to the eastern shoreline. It was the only ancient city ever built atop a coral reef. In 2016, the UN declared it a World Heritage Site. We drove on a narrow gravel road and parked the Jeep. From there, we walked about two kilometres to Nan Madol. We walked through private lands, and landowners charged a fee for crossing their land. Some landlords collected a dollar or two, but one landlord demanded seven dollars.

We entered a rocky trail from the last property. The land rapidly became marshy, and we walked on an elevated narrow bund. Both sides of the bund were inundated, and walking on it was risky. Henry dexterously cut down weeds and plants that obstructed the path. He wanted me to follow him closely but did not say why. The thought that he might sacrifice me to a local god began looming in my mind. I did not look around as I wanted to keep my eyes on him and the bund. He walked fast, brandishing his knife as if in a frenzy.

The narrow bund that stretched through a grotesque jungle of mangroves looked never-ending. I thought that spirits were watching and following me. I tried to avoid looking at large trees because I thought they were beckoning me. Some tree trunks, I thought, turned into hobgoblins. I remembered reading how funny elves resort to mischievous acts towards human beings who encroach on their territories.

Suddenly, I felt some invisible force pulling me back. I could not see Roger. I thought that I got lost among the mangroves forever. I saw the shallow water in marshy fields swelling to engulf me. I stopped walking. I thought how silly I was to think about bizarre things. Then Roger returned and asked me whether I had seen anything or anybody. I told him that some trees had tried to talk to me and were making faces at me. He said that many visitors had similar supernatural encounters. Roger explained that Pohnpiens treated the ruins at Nan Madol as sacred. They also knew various spirits haunt the place. The spirits came out at night, but a few hovered around during the daytime to harass visitors. Roger gave me several small, polished stones connected in a string. It reminded me of the rosaries that churchgoers had in their hands. He said that the string would fend off evil spirits. I then remembered my grandmother, who gave me my first rosary when I was seven, advising me to carry it with me to protect myself from evil forces.

We arrived at a stagnant shallow canal from where we could see the temple entrance. To reach the temple, we crossed a shallow canal. There were several decayed logs in the canal, and we had to push them aside to cross it. About 50 metres from the canal were the elegant stone walls three to five metres high. Just under a stone arch was a conduit from a table-flat wall top where, presumably, human sacrifices were conducted. According to Roger, the blood of those victims trickled down from the wall top to the main entrance through the conduit, where priests performed rituals to appease gods. Many city outer walls remain intact, although mangroves have engulfed them.

Local people believe twin brothers, who were sorcerers, built Nan Madol. They came to Pohnpei from another island in a large canoe to build an altar where they could perform ancestor worship. The legend is that the two brothers levitated large stones with the help of a flying dragon and built the entire city in three years. They transported basalt columns from a faraway island. Most of the columns are now under shallow water in the lagoon.

The temple consists of about 90 rectangular islets linked by narrow channels. Each islet had a coral-filled platform. Nan Madol means “within the intervals,” and the “intervals” are the complex canal grid. It is unclear who lived on islets, but locals believe priests who performed rituals at the altar lived in single-house units built on islets.

There were reserved locations among the islets for priests to feed turtle innards to a sacred eel who lived in a deep well. After feeding the eel, priests shared the rest of the turtle as a sacrament. To this day, eels are considered holy and are never killed or eaten.

The main enclosure is a large stone chamber with hundreds of human bones. About 15 years ago, several German archaeologists dusted and rearranged the bones to examine their age. That night, one archaeologist died in his hotel room in Kolonia, and the other fell gravely ill. Roger said his ancestors were unhappy when foreigners excavated and labelled their bones. They, as spirits, protect the monuments and punish anyone who disturbs them.

Roger’s father and two uncles had seen several light beams starting from the temple’s main altar late one night. The light beams travelled across the sea to faraway islands and large stars. When I asked Roger if he would camp at Nan Madol after sunset to watch the light beams, he said he would not risk meeting his ancestors! He advised me not to talk about them as they were holy spirits with enormous powers and could harm us in their domain.

We spent two hours walking around the temple. The shallow sea and the lagoon behind the ruins were very picturesque. We tried to count the heaps of basalt rafts submerged in the lagoon. When we decided to leave Nan Madol, I felt I could not move. I was unsure whether the feeling came from my fear of hobgoblins or the perplexity in my mind. I told Roger to walk with me to the Jeep. He walked ahead of me, occasionally checking whether I was following him. I tried to walk fast without looking at the trees I had seen earlier. I felt a powerful, unseen force pulling me backwards. I imagined a tree with strange roots moving towards me. The gushing winds created a bizarre atmosphere. I felt I had not left the ruins, so I called Roger and asked him to walk with me. We plodded to the Jeep from the ruins. He reassured me that the spirits would not follow us. I was glad to leave Phonpei the following day.

By Tisaranee Gunasekera
(first published in Himal Southasian)

(continued from last week)

Mahinda’s victory (in 2005) marked an inflection point. He did not abrogate the ceasefire agreement he had inherited, and even engaged in a round of negotiations with the LTTE. At the same time, he allowed the Sri Lankan military a freer rein. In December 2005, for instance, the navy retaliated to an LTTE bombing by attacking a residential area in the northern town of Mannar.

In 2006, the JVP, then in Mahinda’s alliance, filed a case in the Supreme Court seeking the abolition of an earlier merger of the Tamil-dominated North and East, effected in 1987. Fighting escalated and the ceasefire collapsed. Mahinda and Gota – by then appointed the secretary to the ministry of defence – followed the LTTE’s example by opting for a strategy of total war.

The fighting finally ended in 2009 with mass civilian deaths and the extermination of the LTTE. Thousands of Tamil survivors were incarcerated in prison camps. The Rajapaksas intended this to be a permanent arrangement and dismantled them only due to strong international pressure. The victory, and the refusal to make any political concessions to the Tamils, turned the two brothers into Sinhala national heroes.

The Rajapaksas’ drive to stamp out dissent and centralize power in their own hands began while the war was still raging. Part of the process was a wave of murders, abductions and disappearances. After the end of the war, the 18th Amendment removed presidential term limits and the few remaining checks on the president’s power. Rajapaksa family members hogged key ministries and state institutions.

Allegations of corruption mushroomed, defence expenditure soared, and the militarization of civilian spaces accelerated. Tamil areas were placed under de facto military rule and a new campaign commenced to demonize another minority, the Muslims. An international borrowing spree and high indirect taxes financed prestige infrastructure projects with little economic viability. The Rajapaksa model, which would culminate in Sri Lanka’s bankruptcy and the Aragalaya, was born.

Over nine years of Rajapaksa rule, Wickremesinghe remained on the back foot. He was nominally the leader of the opposition but spent more time and effort combatting dissenters within the UNP rather than the government. His focus was on retaining party leadership, not gaining the presidency. In 2010, he willingly conceded the presidential candidacy of a united opposition to Sarath Fonseka, the war-winning army commander, knowing well that Mahinda was bound to win that year’s presidential election.

Wickremesinghe defeated a couple of challenges to his leadership, reportedly with some Rajapaksa help. In 2011, for instance, a UNP faction backing Sajith Premadasa planned to hold a satyagraha outside the party’s headquarters to demand an open leadership contest. On the day, the road leading to the headquarters was closed by the police to facilitate urgent repair work by the ministry of highways. The brewing rebellion collapsed.

BY 2014, Wickremesinghe had been the leader of the UNP for 20 years but had recorded just one victory in a parliamentary election, in 2001, and one in local government elections, in 2002. It was a lacklustre record by any standard. By this time, the slogan “Ranil Can’t” had gained currency even within Wickremesinghe’s own party.

So when Mahinda called an early presidential election, and electoral trends hinted at his possible defeat, fielding Wickremesinghe as a common opposition candidate was not even considered. Maithripala Sirisena, the general secretary of the SLFP and a key minister in Mahinda’s cabinet, was picked for the role after he agreed to defect from the government during secret negotiations. Wickremesinghe went along on the understanding that he would be made the prime minister in a future Sirisena government.

With economic distress, anti-incumbency, minority voters and corruption allegations all acting against the Rajapaksas, Sirisena convincingly won the 2015 presidential election. But it was far from certain whether the Rajapaksas would honour the electorate’s decision or try to cling to power via extra-constitutional means. According to media reports, when he realized the election was lost, Mahinda summoned the commanders of the armed forces, the Inspector General of Police and the attorney general to check with them about the possibility of overturning the results, and was advised not to by all of them.

In the end, Mahinda accepted the verdict and stood down, and Wickremesinghe was pivotal in ensuring that outcome. In the early hours of January 9, he visited Mahinda and reportedly brokered a smooth transition. Mahinda, according to accounts at the time, was worried that he and his relatives would face harassment and arrest by the Sirisena government, or have their security removed. Wickremesinghe delivered assurances of security and protection, and the deal was done.

He was the right man for such a delicate job with so much riding on it: violence was a certainty if Mahinda refused to accept the election result and leave. Wickremesinghe had excellent relations with most of the country’s political leadership, ranging from the Rajapaksas and ex-president Kumaratunga to the JVP.

Sirisena appointed Wickremesinghe as his prime minister and the latter was sworn in for thethird time. Wickremesinghe retained the post after the UNP won a plurality at the parliamentary election that soon followed. He performed exceptionally well at the polls, with a personal preference vote of over 500,000 – a record at the time. The Rajapaksas, having failed to regain control of the SLFP, found their own party, the SLPP, in 2016.

The new administration christened itself the Yahapalanaya, or “Good Governance”, government. Its inaugural budget brought in a slew of popular measures. Indirect taxes were slashed, bringing prices down, while direct taxes were increased. Public-sector employees were given a pay hike and their peers in the private sector asked to follow suit. Sirisena and Wickremesinghe also shepherded through the 19th Amendment, which reduced the powers of the presidency and re-imposed term limits on the office. For a brief while, it looked as if the new government might live up to its chosen name.

It did not take long for the public mood to sour and for Wickremesinghe’s star to crash back down to earth. The Yahapalanaya government appointed a new Central Bank governor – Arjuna Mahendran, Wickeremesinghe’s pick and known friend. The bank then held a bond auction where a large portion of the bonds went to a company linked to Mahendran’s son-in-law with suspiciously high interest rates. When the scandal broke, much of the outrage attached to the prime minister, and delays in investigating the matter were blamed on his interference. Until then, Wickremesinghe had not been saddled with any significant allegations of corruption. Now he became synonymous with what was remembered as the Bond Scam.

Other unpopular measures, such as handing a deep water port in Hambantota over to China on a 99-year lease, were also blamed on him. The port had actually been Mahinda’s pet project, built in his home district at enormous cost and against much advice as part of his debt-fueled infrastructure push. The government defended the deal as a way to bring in some much-needed cash as Sri Lanka struggled to pay its soaring foreign debts – including massive sums due to China, which had been glad to bankroll Mahinda’s spree.

Contrary to persistent allegations, Sri Lanka did not take on unprecedented debt during the Yahapalanaya years. That administration proved to be a more responsible economic steward than the Rajapaksas. The country’s total debt stock did rise sharply on its watch, but almost 90 percent of that was down to servicing loans taken out prior to 2015.

At local government elections in 2018, the UNP was trounced. Wickremesinghe was rightly held responsible and the discontent with his leadership of the party reached new heights. He suffered more damage with his handling of anti-Muslim riots that same year. The trouble began in the town of Teldeniya, in the centre of the country, where Sinhala Buddhist mobs went on a rampage. It soon spread through the surrounding district of Kandy. As things escalated, Wickremesinghe appeared inexcusably silent. By the time the government finally restored order, after a week of unrest, Wickremesinghe’s twin images as crisis-manager and minority-protector were in tatters.

Then, in October 2018, came the 52-day coup mounted by Sirisena in alliance with Rajapaksa. Sirisena dismissed Wickremesinghe as prime minister and appointed Mahinda to the position. When it became clear that Mahinda lacked a parliamentary majority, Sirisena dissolved the parliament.

Uncharacteristically, Wickremesinghe stood firm. He would not concede the premiership or accept the dissolution of parliament. In a symbolic move, he refused to vacate Temple Trees and opened the hallowed mansion’s doors to UNP members. He led the battle against Sirisena and Rajapaksa both within and outside parliament – building alliances with other opposition parties, reaching out to civil society groups and mobilizing party activists. In a career deficient of inspiring moments, it was perhaps his finest hour.

The reason for his activism was perhaps not hard to comprehend. Wickremesinghe was fighting to save his own seat, of course, but there was also the fact that Sirisena’s actions were unconstitutional. Wickremesinghe, the constitutionalist, was fighting for and within the constitution. The Supreme Court eventually confirmed that Sirisena had exceeded his authority and Wickremesinghe got to keep his post. Once the battle was won, Wickremesinghe as prime minister returned to his uninspiring ways.

There was one last test. In April 2019, on Easter Sunday, a local Islamist group carried out coordinated bombings at three churches and three luxury hotels. Sirisena was caught out of the country and out of his depth. The state apparatus was left headless, with no one taking charge, and there was real fear of reprisals against Muslims. Wickremesinghe stepped into the breach, rallying the police and military to apprehend the surviving conspirators and maintain civil peace.

But, once again, his charmlessness betrayed him. The media and public chose to focus on his supposedly unsympathetic manner during a visit to one of the bombed churches. Instead of winning praise for his leadership after the attacks, he was blamed for not stopping them – even though Sirisena had cut him out of the loop on security matters and did not allow him to attend the National Security Council after October 2018.

Wickremesinghe intended to contest the 2019 presidential election. But, under pressure even within his own party, he had to concede the candidacy to Sajith Premadasa. Gota contested as the SLPP candidate since the 19th Amendment had reintroduced term limits, disqualifying Mahinda. His campaign was based on anti-Muslim hysteria, and he swept to victory on an unprecedented wave of Sinhala support.

In early 2020, when Premdasa decided to go his own way, Wickremesinghe failed to stop a split in the UNP or prevent the party’s voters from moving en masse to Premdasa’s new SJB. Even after his party – and he himself – suffered humiliation in the next parliamentary election, Wickremesinghe held tight to the party leadership. No attempt was made to build up a new generation of activists and leaders, to revive the once-grand party now reduced to a solitary legislative seat. In political terms, Wickremesinghe sank into near non-existence. It was the nadir of his career.

In an interview with a local channel in 2021, he was asked whether he spent his nights plotting a comeback. “I’m watching Netflix at night,” was his prompt reply. That seemed to be the final word. Except that it wasn’t.

(To be continued)