George Braine

Kamikaze aunt and other stories – By GEORGE BRAINE   During the closing stages of the Pacific front in World War II, Kamikaze (“divine wind”) units were formed as a last ditch effort to prevent an American invasion of Japan. These units consisted of conventional fighter planes loaded with explosives, bombs, and even torpedoes, and would be deliberately crashed onto warships. About 2800 Kamikaze attackers sank 34 American navy ships, damaged 368 others, and killed or wounded about 10,000 sailors. An American destroyer that was attacked but survived is my namesake, the USS Braine, although 67 sailors on board were killed and 102 wounded. My mother-in-law Tomiko is 94 now, and clearly remembers her life in Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island, during wartime. She was in a boarding school where young women were trained to take over duties usually assigned to men, who were now away at war. She remembers the hardships of ...

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The elephant in the room – By GEORGE BRAINE At a time when the world is recovering from the coronavirus, the economic collapse has brought Sri Lanka to its knees. No recovery can even be imagined in the near future. Now comes the elephant in the room, the topic no one mentions in numerous discussions: Sri Lanka’s population explosion. Our schools are overcrowded, our hospitals are spilling over with patients, our buses and trains are sardine-packed, our environment is polluted, our universities lack enough places, our youth are unemployed (and look abroad for “work” that is often a euphemism for slavery), our forests are being razed, our rivers are being ravaged for sand, and human-elephant conflicts take a tragic toll. Millions live in abject poverty, depending on “samurdhi” and other handouts to eke out a living. We still depend on food imports. In my ancestral village, land distribution began in ...

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In praise of trains, buses, and bicycles By GEORGE BRAINE Recently, while taking a walk in my neighborhood in Sapporo, Japan, a mother and a son passed me on a bicycle. The mother was riding, and the son, about three years of age, was safely belted to a seat in the rear. They appeared to be happy, chatting about something that made them smile. Once again, I found this, a scene that I witness often, charming. Japan is a wealthy country. In my neighborhood, some households own three cars. But, many people also ride bicycles. Middle school and high school students, working men and women, housewives, the elderly. Wide pavements and bicycle lanes encourage the practice. A habit children have gained while riding with their mothers is carried onto adulthood.  Compare this to Sri Lanka, a poor country, where bicycles (till the economic crisis hit recently) were a rarity on ...

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Japan’s Precious Children – By GEORGE BRAINE On a recent afternoon in Sapporo, on Japan’s northern island of Hokkaido, I was walking past an elementary school. Lessons were over for the day, and little children were streaming out. Singly or in groups, talking and laughing, the children walked along the pavement on their way home, safe and happy. No parents had come to collect them, and no motorcycles, cars, school vans or buses were to be seen. Obviously, the concept of “langama pasala, hondama pasala” (the nearest school is the best school) was working in Japan. I recall a common sight in Sri Lanka. In most schools, even for older students, parents would be crowding the gate to pick up and escort their children home. Or, there would be school vans. In so called international schools, a long line of expensive cars would line up on the nearby road, to ...

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Furano – for lavender and melons – GEORGE BRAINE Sapporo, the capital of Hokkaido, Japan’s northern island, is a flat, sprawling city, surrounded by low hills. The downtown area, with classy department stores, high end dining, and tree lined boulevards, is lovely. But the outskirts are not attractive: mile after mile of car dealerships, used car lots, and pachinko (gambling) parlors. Beyond the city, Hokkaido’s countryside is breathtaking. Forests, rolling hills, farms, salmon streams, fast flowing rivers, crystal clear lakes. The forests are rich in bear, deer, foxes, and smaller creatures. The beaches are clean, and although too cold for bathing most of the year, are deserted and ideal for beach combing. The surrounding seas supply plentiful fish and crustaceans, which the Japanese love to eat raw, steamed or grilled. We were hunkered down in Sapporo for months, first by winter and then by Covid-19, and were impatient to travel. ...

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Duncan White, and the Returned Trinity Lion – By GEORGE BRAINE For the 125th anniversary of Trinity College, Kandy, The Old Boys Association published a 135-page commemorative volume titled Memories of Trinity, containing short pieces written mainly by old boys. Consisting mostly of humorous anecdotes about teachers and students, the volume was edited by five old boys, including Lakshman Kadiragamar, who also happened to be the President of the OBA at that time. Kadiragamar also wrote the Foreword. The cover depicted a water color painting by Stanley Kirinde of the Hantana peak seen through the college chapel. Kadiragamar also wrote a piece titled “The school we knew” for the volume, in which he recalled the visit of Duncan White, the Olympic silver medalist, an old boy of Trinity, to the school. This was in 1948. A holiday was declared, and a general assembly was held. White walked down the school ...

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“Ingreesi Mahattaya” – Two years a village schoolmaster – by GEORGE BRAINE   Getting on the bus in Badulla town, I asked the driver if he could let me off at the Kendegolla Maha Vidyalaya. He gave me an odd look, but said “Naginna” (get in). The small bus went along the Passara Road, turned left, and began to climb a narrow road, winding past village houses and patches of tea. After half an hour, the driver stopped and pointed to a small white speck on the highest hill, miles from the road. “That’s the school”, he said. My heart sank. What was I, barely out of my teens, doing in remote Uva hills, hundreds of miles from home? At Maharagama training college, I had met Fawzia, and we had fallen in love. She was from a traditional Malay family, and we did our best to keep the relationship a ...

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Alex Lazarus, and the missing school bell – by GEORGE BRAINE The year would have been 1964 or 65. At Trinity, the end of each class period was signaled by the ringing sound of a large bell which hung on a low branch of a pine tree above the quadrangle. The bell ringer, I’ll call him Arnolis, was a rotund man who wore an oversized shirt and a sarong worn high above his waist, held up by a thick black belt. At the end of each period, Arnolis would approach, carefully put on filthy ear plugs he kept hidden on a nearby crevice, and beat the bell with a metal rod. The noise rang out throughout the upper school, and the boys would stream out of class rooms. All was well. Then, one morning, the bell was missing. Gone without a clue. Chaos reigned. That was a time when few teachers, let alone students, had wristwatches. Without the ...

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Singing alongside Victor – by GEORGE BRAINE I spent Christmas 2017 with Victor Ratnayake and a few friends at Nuwara Eliya, and, on our return to Colombo, he drove me to my home near Lunuwila. I sat in the front seat, and his wife sat in the back. As we were passing Rukmani Devi’s statute at Tudella, Victor began to reminisce about the Rukmani he knew and respected. He has a phenomenal memory, and he brings in numerous anecdotes, usually funny, to his stories. But, on Rukmani, his memories were tender and tinged with sadness. Then, I related my own story. While schooling in Negombo in the early 1960s, I was boarded at a house on Temple Road, only a few hundred meters from “Jaya-Ruk”, the home of Rukmani and Eddie Jayamanne. They were at the height of their popularity.  The boarding house owner was the sister of Bertram Fernando, ...

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“Do you play cricket?” – by GEORGE BRAINE The job interview was at a hotel room in San Diego, during a major academic conference. A few chairs had been lined up outside the room, and, as I sat there, another applicant who had just been interviewed walked triumphantly out of the room, giving a dismissive glance in my direction. Rather dejectedly, I walked in. The room had two arm chairs and a large bed. Three white males, who turned out to be Americans, were waiting expectantly, the oldest seated on a chair and the other two on the bed. They were the interview committee. I was directed to the second chair. I was not surprised by the arrangement. Years before, while facing multiple job interviews at another academic conference, I had been in stranger interview scenarios. The person seated on the chair turned out to be the director of the ...

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