After the Civil War
Kilinochchi was a familiar name. It was featured in newspapers over and over again in the harrowing years of the protracted Sri Lankan civil war. So it felt odd, five years after the war ended, to have a rest stop here on the bus from Vavuniya to Jaffna in the northern Tamil country. I remembered reading that wandering away from the main road was risky as there were still landmines. It all seemed peaceful now even though post-war reparations for locals were far from reach.
I boarded the crowded bus once again and braced myself for the long ride with repetitive Sinhala versions of terrible Bollywood songs blasting from the speakers.
It was evening when I reached Jaffna and I needed to find a place to stay. Most of the places looked shut but I finally found accommodation. It was quite terrible but my priority was to fix an agenda for my short trip. I stepped out for a bite at a nearby restaurant. The food felt warm and familiar; after all, I wasn’t far from home. I decided to visit a faraway island the next day.
An island excursion
Early in the morning, I took a bus to Kurikadduwan jetty where people were boarding a boat. An elderly British couple and I, the only foreigners around, were made to fill a register before taking the ferry. During the ride on the Palk Strait between India and Sri Lanka, an English-speaking Tamil gentleman engaged me in conversation about the plight of the northerners after the war. He told me that if a referendum were to be conducted, more than 90% of the people would vote for independence from Sri Lanka. When I relayed this to the British couple, the lady said she was hardly surprised, what with the heavy military presence in Jaffna.
An hour later, we stepped onto land. We were in Neduntivu or, as the Dutch called it, Delft. We found a tuktuk to explore the island together and I used my smattering of Tamil to communicate with our driver and guide, Raja. Driving across Neduntivu, it felt like I was in a different world for it was rather remote and not built up. He took us to some of the places of interest including a weird grey stone which is believed to keep growing.
In fact, everything seemed grey here. We visited a fort built by the Portuguese but called the Dutch fort for they took over the building later. Upon closer inspection, we noticed that it was built using corals and grey limestone like several other constructions on the island. There was a pigeon house used to keep birds that transmitted messages between neighbouring islands.
The beautiful beach was visible from the fort lined with tall palmyra palms. The fort is mostly in ruins and hardly more than a jumble of stones. Raja then took us past a large field with wild horses that have apparently roamed the island since the Dutch left them there.
The coast had shallow water with sharp grey corals protruding from the sea. I was told that the gopuram of the temple in Rameshwaram in India is visible from here on a clear day but no matter how hard I squinted and strained my eyes I just saw a curved horizon of the blue sea meeting the lighter blue sky.
Next, we stopped at a depression in the grey stone ground vaguely resembling a footprint. Some say it belongs to Shiva, others to Adam. I was told it was Hanuman’s. After all, Lanka was where Rama and his faithful monkey companion defeated the demon Ravana according to the Ramayana.
It was nearly one o’clock and my British travel partners asked for a picnic break. Raja stopped by a greenish body or water. I don’t know whether this was a lake or the sea but when we approached its banks on foot, a flock of salmon-coloured flamingos took wing to distance themselves from us. We couldn’t have found a better a spot. We returned to a stone platform near the road and sat there sharing sandwiches and watching the graceful birds standing in the water.
Around half an hour later, I asked Raja where we could go next and he said “maram” — tree in Tamil. I knew he was taking us to a lone baobab found on this fascinating island. It was odd to see this tree, usually associated with Africa, on this South Asian island. It was the end of our visit and the couple didn’t allow me to pay so I bought us tea and biscuits as we waited for the ferry to take us back.
Jaffna and its environs
Back in Jaffna, I walked past shops selling dried fish and went to a small joint for a dosai. When I opened my bag to take out money to pay, the waiter saw my camera and realised I wasn’t from there. Despite controversial Indian action here, people still feel an affinity with Indians that I immediately felt when he warmly shook my hand as I was leaving.
Jaffna used to be a bustling city with a big university churning out intelligent citizens. When war erupted between the majority Sinhalese government and the dreaded guerilla fighters of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), an exodus led to most of these people fleeing to India, the USA, France and the UK.
Several intellectuals who fought against both Sinhala hegemony and LTTE violence were assassinated. The destruction is still there for all to see with rundown buildings and piles of rubble.
In the evening, I walked around the ramparts of Jaffna’s seaside Dutch fort as the sun set. I returned to my hotel walking past a sumptuous church reminding me of the plurality of Sri Lanka.
The next morning, I went to Chunnakam village and walked down a narrow road to an ancient archaeological site called Kadurugoda Vihara. This Buddha site in predominantly Hindu Jaffna district is rather mysterious with many legends about its origins. Some say it may be as old as the Anuradhapura period more than two thousand years ago. It consists of twenty-odd small dome-shaped stupas surrounded by vegetation.
From here, I returned to Jaffna to take one last stroll in the city. I walked past destroyed buildings and lingered around the kachcheri, which was the district secretariat. It has seen Portuguese, Dutch, British occupants as well as the Sri Lanka army. It must have been a beautiful building. I stayed on the road, vigilant about mines. I saw soldiers almost everywhere along this road and remembered my conversation with the man on the boat.
It was time to leave Jaffna. As I made my way to Anuradhapura, I reflected on my short visit to the north, happy that peace had returned but hopeful that justice would be served to the people who had lost family members, houses, land and livelihoods.
Hi, I am Prajwal Madhav. I hope you enjoy my posts.
