Tamil Survival Stories

Tamil Survival Stories A photographic journey into the survival of the Eelam Tamils, the preservation of their identity, and the role of women in this story.

As Tamils each of us in the diaspora and in our homeland has a story of survival. In our actions, memories, parents, words, art, activism, ancestors, land and even sarees there is a powerful story of an identity’s survival. It needs to be told in our voice.

Darshini Louey~ THE SARI STORY ~July 1979, London ~ My Amma, a smart and beautiful nursing student from Malaysia, had ju...
02/02/2022

Darshini Louey

~ THE SARI STORY ~

July 1979, London ~ My Amma, a smart and beautiful nursing student from Malaysia, had just met my Appa, a skinny engineering student from Sri Lanka.

They met properly at a cinema. Appa being incredibly punctual arrived early with his mate at the showing of இளமை ஊஞ்சலாடுகிறது (Ilamai Oonjal Aadukirathu) staring Kamal Haasan and Sripriya. Amma and her friend had decided last minute to see the same movie and arrived fashionably late. By chance, the usher seated my Amma next my Appa. It wasn’t until intermission when the lights came on that they set eyes on each other and, well, the rest is history…

After meeting at the movie, my parents went on a couple of dates around London together. On the second date, Appa asked if Amma would accompany him sari shopping to help select a sari for his sister back in Sri Lanka. Of course, Appa was completely in love with Amma and was really buying the sari for her but he knew that she wouldn’t have let him spend money he didn’t have if he revealed what he was really up to!

In the end the sari deception only lasted 2 days. Appa summoned the courage to present her with the sari and declare his love for her. It seems that Amma was equally smitten as they both excitedly agreed a plan to marry.

On 24 September 1980 they were legally married/registered in London without their families present (so rebel!). They subsequently returned to Malaysia for a full traditional hindu wedding ceremony with both sets of parents in attendance on 20 August 1982.

These pictures of Amma in the sari were posted home to Sri Lanka and Malaysia with news of the impending marriage and so it was through these pictures that my paternal grandparents first laid eyes on their daughter-in-law.

Sarees are timeless. So much history, so many stories, are held in the threads of the 6 metres of woven fabric as they are passed from each generation of women to the next. It was so special to be able to wear my Amma’s sari, a piece of my parents’ love story, 42 and a half years in the making. 💕

https://sareesinthewind.tumblr.com/post/675031391250071552/darshini

27/11/2021

On 27 Nov 1988, a group of LTTE cadres gathered at a military base to mark the death of the first LTTE cadre, Lt. Sankar (1982).

Three years later, after the IPKF was forced to withdraw from Sri Lanka, the first மாவீரர் நாள் (Maveerar Naal, Heroes’ Day) was publicly held in what came to be known as துயிலும் இல்லம் (thuyillum illam, resting home).

In this narration (in Tamil), Rajan anna describes how the design of the Thuyillum Illam was first initiated.

These photos were taken in Eelam in the leadup to Maveerar Naal and on the day in 2005.

PARASAKTHYSydney, AustraliaPhoto 1: Parasakthy and Sundha 1961 in ColomboPhoto 2: Parasakthy and Sundha in the 80s in Ch...
14/05/2021

PARASAKTHY
Sydney, Australia

Photo 1: Parasakthy and Sundha 1961 in Colombo
Photo 2: Parasakthy and Sundha in the 80s in Chennai
Photo 3: Sundha as a BBC newsreader 1982 in London
Photo 4: Sundha interviewing a young Mathematics prodigy from Tamil Nadu from Radio Ceylon studios 60s in Colombo
Photo 5: Sundha was also a talented photographer, and this is one of the photos he took and cheekily edited on his film camera
Photo 6: Sundha performing in one of the radio dramas, Radio Ceylon 1950s
Photo 7&8: Front and back cover of ‘Mana Osai - Reminiscences of a Broadcaster’ a book about Sundha
*note that uncle refers to Parasakthy’s husband, the late Sundharalingam.

In 1948, uncle, as a young boy, had listened to the running commentary of Mahatma Gandhi’s funeral procession. Back then in Jaffna nobody had a radio at home, so the school principal hired one for the kids to be able to listen to Gandhi’s tributes. Uncle said that he and many of the children cried. Uncle was so amazed at how something happening in a distant land could move people in his village in Chavakacheri. In his wonderment at how this was possible, his dream to one day become a radio announcer was born.

Sri Lanka started broadcasting in 1923, three years after Europe started the BBC. The transmitter was built using equipment from a captured German submarine. Colombo Radio, later known as Radio Ceylon, started broadcasting in English first and later added Sinhhalese and Tamil . As the station’s popularity grew in India, Hindi was introduced, which also catered for the Hindi-speaking businessmen in Colombo.

While uncle was studying at Jaffna Central college, he stayed in a hostel and would listen to the 9pm All India Radio news on the public radio installed in Subramanian Park while the other students would be engrossed in their studies.

Read the rest of the story here: https://sareesinthewind.tumblr.com/post/650252523761958912/parasakthy

EELAVAN[Location withheld]Photo 1-3: The mountain in the final paragraphPhoto 4: The rock in the final paragraphAmma and...
28/03/2021

EELAVAN
[Location withheld]

Photo 1-3: The mountain in the final paragraph
Photo 4: The rock in the final paragraph

Amma and appa were always away on duty during the short years I shared with them. So, I was raised by my amma’s acca. My life’s happiest moments were the brief periods spent with my ammah, when she would visit me.

In 2006, amma left me with a neighbour P*, because my aunty and her family left to seek asylum abroad. We didn’t have any other relatives to help us. My amma may have had an anna who was in the Iyakkam. I don’t know much about appa’s family. My acca was also in Iyakkam. I am not sure how many years older she is to me. I don’t even know my own age.

After I moved in with P*, I would often join other children in the neighbourhood who would gather at the home of a family who owned a TV. We would watch the serial ‘My dear bootham’ and the news. This is where I first dreamt that one day I would become a news reporter - so I could tell the world what was happening to us.

I loved reading and I loved history. I once found amma’s book on Lenin, and I tried to read it, only understanding a few bits. I liked reading with my amma.

Read the rest of Eelavan's story: https://sareesinthewind.tumblr.com/post/646767590507724800/eelavan

Photo 1: Protest outside the Sydney Cricket Ground at a game in which Sri Lanka was playing, 2013. Photo by Peter Boyle....
13/03/2021

Photo 1: Protest outside the Sydney Cricket Ground at a game in which Sri Lanka was playing, 2013. Photo by Peter Boyle.
Photo 2: Trevor Grant leads the chants in Horsham Victoria, followed by Tamil protesters as part of the 'Tamil Freedom Ride' from Melbourne to Adelaide to raise awareness of Sri Lanka's atrocities in the leadup to Sri Lanka playing at Adelaide Oval, 2013. Photo supplied by Aran Mylvaganam.

JEGAN
Australia

'SRI LANKA STOP KILLING TAMILS'

It has always been near impossible to get the international media to cover the Sri Lankan government’s violence against the Tamils. In the late 90s, as the atrocities escalated, the world was more interested in celebrating Sri Lanka’s cricketing heroes than exposing the Tamil genocide.

Early in 1999, when the Sri Lankan cricket team played in the 1998–99 Carlton and United Series in Australia, in utter desperation at the world’s silence, we hired a skywriter to write “Sri Lanka Stop Killing Tamils” above the Sydney Cricket Ground during one of the matches.

The decision to do this was not an easy one. There was a view that our fundraising efforts should be sent to those affected by the war in Eelam. This was a valid concern, however, it was also an important opportunity to put Sri Lanka’s crimes on the international stage.

The total cost was $7000 AUD. We found 25 sponsors to donate $100 for each letter. A few businesses and individuals covered the rest. We fundraised specifically for this campaign.

While I was worried that we would be in trouble with the police, the skywriter didn’t seem too phased.

The plane started writing around the time the game started at 2pm. We were lucky that we had clear blue skies with no winds to scatter the smoke. It was impossible for anyone watching the cricket to miss the white letters which stood out prominently against the blue. The pilot told us that the height of each letter was 1km and the width was 750m.

During the time of the skywriting, I was in a car with another activist near the SCG watching anxiously. Within 10 minutes of the writing ending, we received a phone call from an overseas number. We nervously picked up the phone, not sure what to expect. It was the co-ordinator of the diaspora Tamil activists and he praised us for our creativity in putting the violence against the Tamils on the international stage. His support gave us a bit of confidence that the large amounts of money we had spent were justified.

A few days later there was another match in Melbourne and the same message was written there.

There was a news outlet that covered what happened in Australia, and it was our then spokesperson who spoke to the journalist who covered it. She said that the journalist had asked about the cost. Our spokesperson explained that while it was a lot of money, it was one of the ways our community could try to raise awareness, given that the media was not interested in covering the violence.

*****

We have not been able to track down any photos or find out which news outlet covered the action.

In 1984, a year after the Black July pogrom, when the Sri Lankan cricket team was at Lords in London for their first test match, Tamil protesters ran onto the field with banners and lay on the pitch. You can watch the footage here: https://www.tamilguardian.com/content/we-could-not-be-silenced-tamil-protests-london-1984

In 19 May 1999, UK Tamil activists skywrote "Killing Tamils is just not cricket” while Sri Lanka was playing against South Africa at the County Ground. https://www.independent.co.uk/sport/cricket-complaints-follow-tamil-banners-1094807.html

In 2011, a yellow weather balloon bobbed up above the Lord's pavilion in the UK. It had "Boycott Sri Lanka" scrawled on the side in thick black ink. https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2011/jun/04/tamil-protest-lords-sri-lanka

In 2012, Trevor Grant, a former chief cricket writer at The Age called for Australia to boycott the Sri Lankan cricket team. Trevor became an unrelenting champion for Tamil justice and become an active and vocal member of the Tamil Refugee Council and a close friend to many of the Tamil activists. We lost another selfless soul, when he passed away in 2017. https://www.tamilguardian.com/content/australian-calls-boycott-sri-lankan-cricket-grow

Photo 1: Thavamany and Arunachalam on their 25th wedding anniversary,1965Photo 2: Thavamany with her youngest granddaugh...
16/02/2021

Photo 1: Thavamany and Arunachalam on their 25th wedding anniversary,1965
Photo 2: Thavamany with her youngest granddaughter Luxmi who lives in the UK on her 18th bday, 2016
Photo 3: Thavamany with her great grandchildren Sasha and Ziva, and their appa and her eldest grandson Sajith, who live in in Hong Kong, 2016.
Photo 4: Thavamany at 95 years old, 2015

NAREN
Florida, USA

My amma, Thavamany, was born on the 23rd of April 1921 at Inuvil Hospital, Uduvil Division in the Jaffna District. Her appa’s name was Thambu Chinniah and he worked as the Superintend of Minor Roads in the Kurunagala District.

At that time wild elephants were in plenty in the Kurunagala District and would harass local farmers. Thambu Chinniah was a good marksman and villagers would often seek his help to track the elephant and shoot it dead. This reputation of his overtook him and he was also known as “யானை சுட்ட சின்னையா” (Chinniah who shot the elephant). Thavamany’s amma’s name was Marimuttu Chellamah.

My appa was the fifth child. She had two elder sisters Poomani (Ponnudurai) who was a housewife and Jeyamani (Brodie), a Government nurse as a spinster, and a housewife subsequent to marriage. She had two elder brothers Selvarajah, who retired as a Major in the Sri Lanka Army and Dharmalingam, a lawyer who practiced in the Kurunagala District Court. Her younger sibling was Rajadurai, who retired as chief mechanical engineer at Gal Oya Development Board. Rajadurai was also a Major in the Sri Lanka Army Volunteer Force.

When Marimuttu Chellamah was eight months pregnant with Thavamany, she fell into a well while bathing. Back then the wells in Kurunagala had wooden planks on their rims. People would stand on the planks and draw the water with a rope and bucket. Ladies, when bathing, would wrap part of their sari around themselves and leave the other part on the wooden bars. On this said day, after drawing four buckets of water, the plank gave way and Marimuttu Chellamah fell into the well. Luckily her sari got entangled on the wooden bars and held her from going under water. Hearing her screams, the neighbors rushed to her and pulled her out of the well by her sari. That day Thambu Chinniah was away on work-related matters. He got the news three days later and rushed home with worry. When he opened the door, he was relieved that his wife was their soon to be born daughter, my amma were safe and healthy.

A humorous side note: if Chellamah had not been saved by her sari, I, her eldest son, would not be writing this and my amma would not be enjoying the excellent care she has been receiving at Jesmond Nursing Home in Sydney.

Sadly, Thavamany lost her appa when she was eight years old. After this, Chellamah left their home in Kurunagala, and moved to Jaffna. She found a place in Clock Tower Road in Jaffna Town. Chellamah was a very determined and industrious lady. She was also very determined to educate all six of her fatherless children. She managed to admit all three of her sons to St. Johns College in Chundikuli and the three girls to CMS Chundikuli Girls School. Chellamah being a strict disciplinarian made sure her children successfully completed their Senior Matriculation Examination - equivalent to the present day Senior School Certificate.

Chellamah earned money to raise her children by having a couple of milking cows. She supplied unadulterated milk to all her customers, including to the residence of the then Government Agent of Jaffna, a British Officer. She was famous for her cooking skills. The family had very little money, but she was rich in kindness and compassion and brought up her six children with these values and an understanding unity. They remained united until their last breath.

Thavamany helped her amma in so many ways: cooking, organising the milk supply and keeping accounts. When I was growing up, she did impart most of her knowledge and experience to me which helped me a lot in my later life.

Thavamany married Arunachalam, my appa, in May 1940 in Kurunagala. At that time Arunachalam was working as a bookkeeper at the State Mortgage Bank in Colombo. Arunachalam lost his parents when he was child. St. John’s College, founded in 1823 by British Anglican missionaries, provided him with free board, lodging and education. He was also christened with the name Abraham. He was a good friend of Thavamany’s three brothers who he met at St. John’s College. Arunachalam served in the Ceylon Army Volunteer Force during the Second World War for a short period .

Arunachalam was also a hard-working and industrious man. Subsequent to his marriage he attended evening classes at the then known Colombo Technical College and obtained his Diploma in Accountancy. This helped him in his professional career and when he retired, he was the chief accountant at the State Mortgage Bank.

After their marriage, they set up house in Hunupituya, Wattala, about 10 miles north of Colombo. As the family expanded, they moved from one house to another and finally settled down in a reasonably spacious house to accommodate their seven children. The house also had a large yard with coconut trees. This allowed appa to have two milking cows and some banana trees. Amma in addition to being a housewife and mother, cared for a couple of goats and some poultry, which provided eggs for the family. It was tough for the couple who did not have any dowry assets or inherited assets. But by sheer hard work and frugal living they made sure all the basic needs of the children were met and provided the children with a good education. They also made sure to teach their children good social values, good manners, to be respectful to elders and all other human beings. Since they also had cows, goats, poultry and dogs, they also taught the children how to care for them and be kind to them.

Most of the residents in Hunupitiya were middle class Sinhalese Buddhists. Because of this amma and appa picked up the Sinhala language as did we, her children. Thavamany, an observant and willing learner, became very proficient in preparing most of the Sinhalese specialty dishes like achcharu, kalu thothal, lunu miris, katta sambol and few others.

When the 1958 pogrom started, appa was away in Omanthai, Vavuniya and could not return back, nor could he make contact with the family. We didn’t even know if he had survived.

Thavamany and her six children (I was not with them as I was in Jaffna Hindu College Hostel) sought refuge at the Royal College in Colombo, which had been set up as a refugee Camp with thousands of other Tamils. Amma made the brave decision to secure her children’s safety by joining the Tamils who were fleeing the south by open boat to Jaffna. As a woman with three young daughters and a baby only a few months old, in a time of such uncertainty and violence, this would have been an incredibly tough decision to make. We had no family property in Jaffna, but she had her siblings and extended family who showed us love and kindness.

This caused a big setback to the family. We had to close down everything in Hunupitiya, set up house in Chavakacheri, and attend new schools in Jaffna. During this difficult period appa continued to work at the State Mortgage bank in Colombo. He was boarded in a house in Pickering Road Kotehena. Most Fridays he would take the mail train from Colombo Fort Station and arrive in Chavakacheri on Saturday Morning. He would return back to Colombo taking the Sunday afternoon Yaldevi.

Amma continued to develop her Sinhala skills by reading books and studying with her children, as she stayed up with the girls, into the late hours of the night.

At 41 years of age, when her second son sat for his Senior School Certificate (SSC) exam in 1962, she persuaded my appa to let her sit the SSC Sinhala language exam as a private student. She received a Distinction - the highest mark for the Sinhala language exam among all her children.

In Chavakacheri, a few youngsters heard about amma’s fluency in Sinhalese and were keen to learn from her, as finding jobs without knowing the language was becoming tough. Understanding the importance of her knowledge and the difficulties the young Tamils were in, she taught anybody who was willing to learn. As a result she had a regular stream of students who learnt Sinhalese.

Wanting to give the children the opportunities to have a good education they moved houses to Jaffna Town, then to Nallur and finally Tirunelveli where they owned their first house.

By this time most of the children completed their education, finding employment - some locally and some overseas.

Thavamany’s children settled in three different countries: the UK, America and Australia. She and appa travelled to various countries and stayed with their children for long periods of time.

Appa passed away while living with my sister Thevi and her family in Zambia on 2nd of August 1987. Although scattered all over the world, all seven of his children attended his funeral in Zambia. After his death, amma settled down in Australia with her three children. She was fortunate to be able to spend quality time with all her grandchildren and some of her great grandchildren who would regularly visit Australia and spend many of her birthdays with her.

Amma was a big fan of Swami Vivekananda. She was also very religious and practiced her spirituality without talking about it or enforcing her will on others.

One of her noble traits was patience and acceptance without complaint. She would often tell her children “பொறுமையாய் இரு. பொறுத்தார் அரசாள்வார்” (Be patient, for those who wait will rule the world).

*This story was written early in 2020 by Naren, Thavamany’s eldest son. Thavamany passed away in her sleep on 22 October 2020 with her daughters and granddaughter by her side. She had spent her last years at Jesmond Nursing Home in Sydney close to her son, two daughters and their families. She was loved and cherished dearly by all who knew her.

VASANTHYUnited Kingdomஅழ வேண்டாம் அம்மா. எங்கேயாவது உயிரோடு இருந்தால் காணும். அப்பா என்னை பராமரித்துக்கொள்வார். My son w...
27/01/2021

VASANTHY
United Kingdom

அழ வேண்டாம் அம்மா. எங்கேயாவது உயிரோடு இருந்தால் காணும். அப்பா என்னை பராமரித்துக்கொள்வார்.

My son was 10 years old when I was separated from him. I should be feeding him, and helping him with his homework, and looking after him when he is ill, yet I am so far away from him.

When we said goodbye to each other, we were both in so much pain and crying uncontrollably. He didn’t understand why I had to leave.

Now that he is a bit older he tells me “அழ வேண்டாம் அம்மா. எங்கேயாவது உயிரோடு இருந்தால் காணும். அப்பா என்னை பராமரித்துக்கொள்வார்”.

“Amma don’t cry, I just want you to be alive, it doesn’t matter where you live, appa will look after me” .

I used to drop him off at school on my way to work and pick him up each day. He loved eating rice and rasam. He also loved crab curry and rasam. I can never stop thinking about him and missing him.

I worked under the LTTE’s education and sports council for many years and had a good relationship with the administration. I loved my job and the students.

In 2014, the Sinhala intelligence stopped me while I was travelling by road in Vavuniya. They tied up my hands, blindfolded me and threw me into their vehicle. When they removed the blindfold I was in a dark room…

What happened is too painful for me to talk about. [Please don’t ask me about it.]

My escape was by a stroke of luck. A young Tamil man who was working with the security forces, recognised me and smuggled me out in the boot of a car that night. I was in darkness again. I had to put my life in the hands of someone I barely knew.

He drove me to my family’s home. If he wasn’t there that day…

A few days later, I fled the country with my young daughter, leaving my son and husband behind. It was a decision that was made quickly and in desperation.

Last year, the intelligence beat my husband so badly that he was hospitalised. They wanted to know where I was. I am so fearful that my son and husband have been put in a danger because of me.

I have had many successes in my life, but I have not been able to keep my family together. I can’t allow myself to drown in grief or the horrors of my past, because I need to be strong for the sake of my young daughter who still has her whole life before her. I haven’t given up believing that I will be with my family again, but it feels like a dream not quite in my grasp.

THEVYAustraliaOur brief time in Iran was at the time of the 1979 revolution. Our son, B,  was only 18 months old when he...
27/01/2021

THEVY
Australia

Our brief time in Iran was at the time of the 1979 revolution. Our son, B, was only 18 months old when he and I joined my husband (referred to hereafter as uncle) who was working as an engineer in Bandar Abbas, on the southern coast. It was the first time B and I had left Sri Lanka. Uncle had sent us a msg to not get on our flight out of Sri Lanka, because it was too dangerous in Iran, but in the chaos of trying to organise our visas and departure, I missed this memo.

Life was tough for everyone. Food was in short supply, as was gas. We lived in a small flat for company staff. We often heard gun shots from the streets and it was made clear to us, more than once, that as foreigners, we were not welcome in Khomeini’s Iran.

Uncle wasn’t able to leave the house to go to work shortly after we arrived because of the civil unrest, so for the remaining six-to-eight months that we were there, he stayed at home and would only leave if we had to buy food or for emergencies. I had to stay inside with our son the whole time. We had a very small group of friends that uncle had met after he arrived in Iran, to lean on and sometimes share our meals and shopping trips with. However I was the only woman in the group.

Realising the dangers we were in, Uncle’s boss offered to help us leave the country as the airport had been shut down. Uncle’s boss drove us in his car via a jungle route to the port. We had to stay off the roads to ensure our safety. From there we got on a cargo boat to Dubai. It took 20 terrifying hours to cross the Persian Gulf. There were about 20 others, mainly from India, travelling with us, but I can’t remember if we were spread across one or two boats. To protect my little son from the anger of the ocean, I stayed with him inside the deck the entire time. There was one other woman in the group and she was pregnant.

Our next challenge was in Dubai. We were not allowed to disembark because we didn’t have a visa. I had brought powdered milk for our son, B, which we shared with the others. Some of the men went to the Indian embassy and negotiated with them to allow us to travel to the airport and get flights back to our countries. Eleven hours later we were given this clearance.

However, our family found itself in trouble again, because we had purchased our ticket to Sri Lanka on a Singapore airlines flight using Iranian money, which the airline would not accept.

B had been suffering from seasickness and had been vomiting on the boat, and so to pacify him, I told him that I would buy him a helicopter when we got off. I bought him one at the airport, which kept him occupied and happy.

At around the 18 hour mark, two Singapore airline pilots walked past us and our son caught their attention when he called out ‘uncle’ to them’. They kissed him and asked us where where we were going. The pilots were on their way to Sri Lanka and kindly arranged for us to get on their flight.

Our friend picked us up from Bandaranaike Airport. We had a nice meal, shower and sleep at his home in Colombo and the next day we took the Yal Devi (train) to Jaffna. My parents were no longer there as they had left to join my elder brother in Tanzania and all my siblings had also left the island. So we rented a place and stayed in Jaffna, unclear again of our next steps. We knew that finding a job for my husband was going to be tough, and that we had to look for opportunities abroad.

We left the country six months later in February 1980 and made our way to Zambia, as uncle had been offered a job there in a copper mine. The company paid for our tickets and provided us with a home in a gated colony for workers of the mine. They also ensured that we had food for a few days. There were food shortages in Zambia and so those that were already helped to ensure the newcomers didn’t have to worry about sourcing food.

B made friends with the four children of our domestic help, Leonard Banda, and so immediately settled into his new life. B was thrilled to celebrate his 3rd birthday with them. We communicated with everyone in English.

For B’s 4th birthday, we wanted to share his cake with others who were not as fortunate as us and so through a friend, we learnt of a school in Luanshya for children with disabilities. A week before the date, I started explaining the situation of the children to B and why some of them may have certain disabilities. I explained to him that he would need to pour the ‘jolly juice’ for the 65 kids - a duty he happily performed on the day.

I made a cake in the shape of a chess board and chess pieces and we had a wonderful day with the children. I was so happy to see B and the kids enjoying their time together.

It was there that I realised I was in a place where I can, with love, support those around me that are not so fortunate. After this date, I would encourage friends in Zambia to donate a meal or two to this school as a way to honour deaths of family members back home and some of them did just that. I started doing community volunteer work. I set up a tutoring class in one of the local churches and taught basic maths and English to children who attended.

There were about five or six Tamil families and about 15 or so Sinhala families who were working in the copper mines in Luanshya. Other workers and their families were from India, Philippines and Sri Lanka. We didn’t feel lonely because all those working in the copper mines lived together in a colony. During the weekend we often gathered at each other’s homes for parties. We are still close friends with one of the Sinhala families we met there.

We were very fortunate in many ways, however I did find it tough there. As women, we did have to sacrifice the opportunity to work and to study. Women were not allowed to work unless they were professionals like doctors. In Jaffna, women had the freedom to study new skills and be independent. My two dreams had been to get a Diploma in Home Science at Lady Erwin College in Madras and to study carnatic music at Annamalai University. But my family couldn’t afford my university education and so I started working when I was 19 years old.

When B started schooling, a dear friend, who knew I was struggling with not being able to work, asked me if I was interested in doing volunteer work as a bookkeeper at the Luanshya Golf Club. I was delighted to be offered the opportunity! I went there daily and learnt new skills and took on quite a lot of responsibilities. As a thank you for my efforts, I was given local currency which I used to buy a gold bangle which I still wear to remember my years in Zambia.

The company gave us a ticket to go back to Sri Lanka once every three years. During those trips back home, I made sure that I would bring back all the spices that we would need. We could purchase them in Zambia however it was an hour or so away from our home.

My appa joined us in 1987. He was 76 years old. He had been living with my anna, Jegan, and his family in Malaysia in the few years prior. Appa quickly settled into life in Luanshya. He became a popular figure with the locals. When I took food for the elderly people at the Home for the Aged, he would join me and help me pack food. My dearest appap passed away while he was with us in Zambia. My amma, on my insistence, had arrived just a few days prior to his death. I had an intuition that something was going to happen to appa, which is why I pushed for amma to join us from the UK. She had been living there with my other siblings. All my six siblings attended appa’s funeral as did much of Mufulira.

After twelve years in Zambia, we migrated to Australia.

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