Early childhood in Ceylon, the Pearl of the Indian Ocean A Migrants Story – Part 3 – BY RON PIERIS
The days and life in Ceylon were both simple and enjoyable. Most kids were brought up with good morals, manners and etiquette to respect others and elders. Enter after a lady or an elder. Hold a door open for others. Simple acts that did not cost a cent.
We played in the sand. Played marbles and gudu. Danced in the rain. Climbed trees.
There were no phones or tablets. We made do with wooden toys that we dragged along with a piece of twine. I was given a tricycle when I reached 12 and it was the love of my life!! I was the envy of the neighbourhood!!
We were brought up on a tablespoon of Seven Seas Cod liver Oil. Whenever we fell sick, which was rare, an icebag was placed on our head and a rag soaked in vinegar placed on our forehead. When we had a cold, camphorate oil was rubbed on our chests. If ever we were constipated, we were given a good dose of Philips Milk of Magnesia!! Or a hot enema!!
Our local doctor was Dr Karu who gave us a bottle of pink liquid for every ailment we had!! If we had aches and pains, we visited the Kirinelia Ayurvedic Shop on the top of our street for a dark green liquid ointment which worked miracles!! For tooth aches, we were given a drop of clove oil through an ink refiller!! Burnol was used for burns. Antibiotics were never heard of!
Later as we grew older, we visited Dr Raffles Clinic which was a popular medical center manned by Dr Raffle and his wife Dr Mrs. Raffle!
If visitors arrived in our home, we had to wait in our room and come out if only called and only give answers if a question was asked. No two cents worth!!! When we were over 12 years of age, we were allowed to come out but keep our mouths shut!
We had to dress up for dinner and wear our Sunday best to church.
We had to brush our shoes before school each day, wear fresh and ironed clothes and be smart.
We had to be back home, even on weekends, prior to 5pm. The elders had a perceived fear of the dark.
Our upbringing held us in good stead in the ensuing years of our life.
Regulars to our home was the firewood man bringing us a load for our kitchen. The thorombol man who carried a metal box on his head and sold bric-a-bac ranging from pins, needles and spools of cotton. The dhobi used to visit us every month bringing us fresh washed and starched clothes. We had Valentine with his violin play Flight of the Bumble Bee to entertain us as well as Kukul Charlie, a rooster impersonator!!
At the top of our street was the bucket shop where people used to bet on the horses.
Life was simple and uncomplicated until we grew up and saw life in a different perspective!
The hartal of 1957 with the declaration of a Sinhala-only country by then Prime Minister SWRD Bandaranaike brought about death and despair to many of the Tamil. We watched as Tamil shops were burned to the ground and mobs out to kill or maim members of this community. We saved our neighbours by hiding them in our homes when mobs were searching for house to house for these people.
This was a wake-up call to note that this was not a safe country to live in anymore. We could be targeted next. So, we decided to migrate as many thousands did, to a safer place to live and work.
We look back now and know it was the right decision as the country has been destroyed by the so called saviors of the nation. One family, the uneducated Rajapaksa clan, took hold of the country and have sadly destroyed it. Millions go hungry with no power, water or food and they are at the mercy of the world to help them. A Paradise Lost! The Pearl of the Indian Ocean just a craggy rock in a sea of despair!
