My Days With Dr. Mary Rutnam and Robin Rutnam: by Chandra Arulpragasam
Source: Island
For the younger generation that may not know of Dr. Mary H. Rutnam; she was a Canadian missionary doctor, who came to Ceylon on her marriage to a Ceylonese missionary educator, Mr. S.C.K. Rutnam. She was born as Mary Irwin, in Ontario, Canada (1873-1962). She had a medical degree from Canada, but opted to work as a medical missionary in Ceylon. Later, after the mission did not approve of her marriage to a native Ceylonese, she ceased to be a missionary worker and settled into a medical practice in Colombo. Her patients were mainly women, mainly Muslim women who preferred to have a female doctor. Although she was white and foreign-born, it was remarkable that she was able to bypass the white-colonial structure in Ceylon and identify directly with its native people.
She was a tireless worker for women’s rights and development in Lanka. When the malaria epidemic was at its height (1934-35), she and her son, Robin, devoted themselves to work in the hardest-hit rural areas. She was a founder of the Lanka Mahila Samiti, extending especially its reach to rural women. She introduced family planning in Ceylon – which was far in advance of her time. At a political level, she fought for women’s suffrage, forming the Women’s Franchise Union and the Women’s Political Union, which was the forerunner of the All Ceylon Women’s Conference. She appeared before the Donoughmore Commission to urge for the women’s right to vote. She was elected to the Colombo Municipal Council in 1937 (the first woman to be elected), where she was a leading light on public health issues, among others. She was the first woman and the first Ceylonese to receive the prestigious Magsasay award for social service in all of Asia.
I must relate an incident that occurred in Dr. Mary Rutnam’s political life – to illustrate how her moral principles influenced her entire life. In her election campaign for the Municipal Council, she was expected in those days to supply her supporters with arrack and some money. But Mary Rutnam was against alcohol and strictly refused to supply it to her supporters. Moreover, when her supporters in procession sounded their usual battle cry of: “Rutnam Raja, _ _ Hora”, she rebuked them for calling her opponent a ‘hora’! I remember one of her supporters complaining to me that she not only deprived them of all the fun, but also the ‘juice’ of a usual campaign! Nevertheless, she won!
I happen to be the grandnephew of Dr. Mary Rutnam by her marriage to my granduncle, S. C. Kanaga Rutnam, a Christian missionary and educator. My father, being a nephew of the latter, fondly referred to her as ‘Aunt May’. When my father was transferred as a medical doctor to the Batticaloa district, he asked his Aunt May whether my elder brother and I, who were students at Royal College, could ‘board’ with her. Royal College had no boarding at that time and she was more than kind to take us in. We were joined by her grandson, Michael Rutnam, whose father Donald Rutnam was an officer of the ICS in India. The other occupants of her home were her son, Robin Rutnam (‘Uncle Robin’ to us) and her daughter, Helen. I was about 8-9 years old at that time, Michael 10, and my brother about 12. This was between the years 1935 and 1938. We lived with her for two or three years, until the Royal College boarding opened.
This article however is neither about Mary Rutnam’s life, nor about her many contributions to Ceylon.
I leave this to other chroniclers, referring especially to Dr. Kumari Jayawardena’s excellent book: “A Canadian Pioneer for Women’s Rights in Sri Lanka”. I only speak of the little ways in which she and Uncle Robin altered the life of the little boy who was left in their care – only of incidents that changed my life.
I had been brought up as a sickly boy, with a perennial cough and habitually prone to bronchitis. Before I went to the Rutnams, I had been admonished by my grandmother to change my vest whenever I perspired, not to sit in a draught, not to bathe at night, etc, etc. One day, when the monsoon was raging outside and the rain was pelting down, Aunt May found me in the living room, curled up on a sofa, reading a book. She asked me what I was doing there, instead of playing outside. I replied “But Aunt May, it’s raining!” “Out! Out!” she said, pointing out with her finger. Despite my protests that I had bronchitis, that I had a chronic cough, that I would die, etc, etc, “Out! Out!” she insisted, chasing me out into the pouring rain! It was storming, with the rain hitting me like pellets. Michael was already there ready to pelt me with mud balls. Soon I was joining in the fun, throwing mud balls in return. After that, whenever it rained, I was outside, playing in the downpour! I ceased to be sickly and never got bronchitis again! Instead, I grew up to be tougher and tougher – (later) playing rugger in the rain!
Soon we settled into the routine of the household. We would all meet for breakfast before rushing off to school. Aunt May was insistent on proper nutrition, always insisting on fruit and yoghurt before the usual string hoppers or pittu. The family would meet for dinner, which was a western style meal, with proper crockery and cutlery. I have followed this practice ever since, following it even now.
As for Robin Rutnam, he assisted his mother, Dr. Mary, in helping in the rural areas during the deadly malaria epidemic of 1934-35. He became passionately involved in the nationalist, anti-imperialist ‘Suriya Mal’ movement, which was a counter to the British-promoted “Poppy Day”. The ‘Surya Mal’ movement stirred the anti-imperialist, nationalist feelings of the times. He was a member of the Youth League, whose leftist leanings led to the formation of the LSSP. Robin Rutnam was a sympathizer of the left movement and a friend of LSSP leaders like Dr.N.M. Perara and Colvin R. de Silva. May be it is his leftist leanings that have rubbed off on me!
Uncle Robin tried to teach us good habits. For instance he tried to teach us to keep accounts. He used to dole out our pocket money per week, exactly at 12 noon on each Sunday. This was on condition that we gave him a full account (including dates) of how we spent the money of the previous week. So each Sunday, at 10 minutes to noon, we were busy inventing/fudging/cooking up our accounts to render to him. He was not interested in how we spent our money; he was interested only in teaching us to keep accounts of money spent: instead he only succeeded in fueling our inventiveness!
It was fun to live with Uncle Robin! He used to think of how to entertain us, young boys, ever thinking- up interesting activities for us to do. Once, he set us a problem to solve. A ‘hik-meeya’ was coming from outside through a hole, into our bathroom at night, leaving his offerings (droppings) there. He offered a prize to anyone who could capture or kill that offending ‘hik-meeya’. I remember winning the prize by inventing a primitive type of guillotine mounted on a piece of cheese that accomplished the job.
One day, he took us for an early morning swim to the sea at Kinross Avenue. It was before 6 a.m. – and I remember that the water was very cold. There in fun, he carried me into the water – and threw me into the sea. I did not know how to swim. I managed to splutter before going down ‘I can’t swim, Un..cle Rob..n’. “Then drown you little beggar’, he exclaimed! (See how he delicately avoided using the word ‘b*gger’). He must have pulled me out – since I have lived to tell the tale.
Robin Rutnam was a recognized boxer: he had been runner-up at the Empire Games, now called the Commonwealth Games. While playing with me, who was only eight years old at that time, he would take up a boxing stance and say to me: ‘Come and hit me if you can’. He would then gently rap me in the ribs, with his palms open and fingers outstretched. I would do the same, going for his stomach. He would then deftly defend himself with his elbows, while jabbing me speedily on the chest. That was my only acquaintance with boxing. After I had left the Rutnams and when I was about 11-years old, I entered Form 1 at Royal College. When I had beaten two older boxers from a higher class at the Inter-House Boxing Meet, I was hailed as a boxer. That took me into the Finals where I had to meet the best boxer for his weight in all the schools, having won the Best Boxers’ Cup at the Inter-School Championship.
I had no illusions about my fate, because I had no experience of boxing – except trying to hit Uncle Robin. However, he proved to be one of the judges at that boxing meet: I remember him standing down because his nephew had just stepped into the ring! I somehow survived the first round, although I suffered a bad cut over my left eye, which bled profusely. I knew I had to do something drastic to survive. In the second round, although I could hardly see because of the blood, I got him into a corner and went on hammering mercilessly into the corner, with all my might. Suddenly I heard the gong sounding repeatedly and urgently, with the referee rushing to stop the fight! To my chagrin, I found that I had been battering the corner post of the ring, while my opponent was standing behind me, looking charitably but sheepishly on, while I was busy making an ass of myself! Uncle Robin must have been embarrassed! I became henceforth, a reluctant boxer.
I was a small sickly boy, eight years of age when I came under the care of the Rutnams. I am 92 years old now: I write this to record the debt of gratitude that I owe to Dr. Mary and Robin Rutnam. g
