Checkpoints

Yesterday we had traffic cops checking our passports and my driving licence. One grumpy "get out of the car" cop, possibly peeved that he'd been waving his torch around and been ignored. One polite cop. We ignored the grumpy one even harder and showed the documents to the good cop, who wished us a good evening and sent us on our way.

Today we were stopped at a Navy checkpoint. They must not have so much to do after the collapse of the Tigers - but I'm not sure why they need to do the Army's job for them - especially as the President is increasing the size of the Army (peace dividend, it seems...)

Such is the aftermath of the Presdential election here in Colombo.

Good UN / Bad UN

Nobody is perfect, and few organisations are irredeemably corrupt or evil. The UN is no exception.

On the one hand, the UN refugee agency has been trying to do good work on the ground in Sri Lanka in the face of a huge refugee crisis, when the government allows them. (They also do vital work in Pakistan, the Sudan / Darfur, Iraq, and elsewhere).

A refugee camp in Sri Lanka -UNHCR/B.Alan

On the other hand the UN Human Rights Council has ducked the question of human rights abuses and possible war crimes during and after the conflict in Sri Lanka, calling it an internal matter. But as I mentioned before, considering who is on the UNHRC, and their sensitivities about their own "internal" affairs, we should probably not be too surprised.

At least parts of the UN are aware of the need for rapid resettlement of refugees, and the importance of not indiscriminately shelling concentrations of civilians.

On not being involved in a land war in asia?

It seems that the war is over in Sri Lanka, and that Sri Lankans are all one nation now - at least that is the official story. Certainly I've seen lots of flags and public celebration in the streets of Colombo. People are delighted that the brutal and ruthless LTTE (the Tamil Tigers) no longer hold territory in Sri Lanka.


Not so much public concern though for the hundreds of thousands of Sri Lankan refugees being held in internment camps in their own country, without adequate shelter, food, clothes, health care, communications, or access of any kind to the outside world. Private concern, to be sure. From some at any rate. But not so much in the local press. I even saw one article that claimed the West, egged on by the Christian Church, had been training Tamil suicide bombers. But back to reality.

Now that the war is over, it might be a good time to allow international relief workers back in, reunite families that have been divided, and take care of those Tamil menbers of the one nation of Sri Lanka who are enduring such terrible conditions.

If you're interested in the crisis there, a site with more voices and more information than the mainstream media are able to provide is Ground Views: a Sri Lankan citizen journalism initiative, as it calls itself. Check it out!

Website Assassinated

The Register reports that the Sri Lankan Army's site was "assassinated" by pro Tamil Tiger hackers. Apparently they put "horrible and gruesome images" up instead! The hackers were accused of terrorism.

One commenter at the Register cut through the claim and counter claim:

Let's hope the "horrible and gruesome images" are quickly replaced with the images of picnics and children playing with puppies usually associate with the ongoing artillery barrages upon concentrations of civilians and land wars in Asia in general.
- TW Burger

Could it be that the images the hackers added reflected the "horrible and gruesome" reality of war?

By all accounts both sides have perpetrated horror and grue in huge amounts.

Here is a UN report on the effects of the Army shelling [large 13M pdf document] - published then un-published, apparently because they thought it might damage dialogue with the government. The SL Army accuse the Tamil Tigers of firing at them from the civilian safe zones. The Tamil Tigers have also recruited child soldiers, and fired on civilians who try to leave the conflict area. Of course, when the civilians at last manage to escape they are concentrated into camps with inadequate provisions, and no provisions for reuniting families.

In this disaster, as always, civilians suffer dreadfully.

If you're curious, here are some of the gory details from the hacked website:

Speeches and Writing

I've been reading a few powerful and thought provoking speeches and other writings recently - this one, by the assassinated Lasantha Wickramatunga stands out. He wrote it shortly before his murder, and it was published in the Newspaper he edited in Sri Lanka shortly afterwards. Some of the names and incidents may be unfamiliar - but you should get the gist:

No other profession calls on its practitioners to lay down their lives for their art save the armed forces and, in Sri Lanka, journalism. In the course of the past few years, the independent media have increasingly come under attack. Electronic and print-media institutions have been burnt, bombed, sealed and coerced. Countless journalists have been harassed, threatened and killed. It has been my honour to belong to all those categories and now especially the last.

I have been in the business of journalism a good long time. Indeed, 2009 will be The Sunday Leader's 15th year. Many things have changed in Sri Lanka during that time, and it does not need me to tell you that the greater part of that change has been for the worse. We find ourselves in the midst of a civil war ruthlessly prosecuted by protagonists whose bloodlust knows no bounds. Terror, whether perpetrated by terrorists or the state, has become the order of the day. Indeed, murder has become the primary tool whereby the state seeks to control the organs of liberty. Today it is the journalists, tomorrow it will be the judges. For neither group have the risks ever been higher or the stakes lower.

Why then do we do it? I often wonder that. After all, I too am a husband, and the father of three wonderful children. I too have responsibilities and obligations that transcend my profession, be it the law or journalism. Is it worth the risk? Many people tell me it is not. Friends tell me to revert to the bar, and goodness knows it offers a better and safer livelihood. Others, including political leaders on both sides, have at various times sought to induce me to take to politics, going so far as to offer me ministries of my choice. Diplomats, recognising the risk journalists face in Sri Lanka, have offered me safe passage and the right of residence in their countries. Whatever else I may have been stuck for, I have not been stuck for choice.

But there is a calling that is yet above high office, fame, lucre and security. It is the call of conscience.

The Sunday Leader has been a controversial newspaper because we say it like we see it: whether it be a spade, a thief or a murderer, we call it by that name. We do not hide behind euphemism. The investigative articles we print are supported by documentary evidence thanks to the public-spiritedness of citizens who at great risk to themselves pass on this material to us. We have exposed scandal after scandal, and never once in these 15 years has anyone proved us wrong or successfully prosecuted us.

The free media serve as a mirror in which the public can see itself sans mascara and styling gel. From us you learn the state of your nation, and especially its management by the people you elected to give your children a better future. Sometimes the image you see in that mirror is not a pleasant one. But while you may grumble in the privacy of your armchair, the journalists who hold the mirror up to you do so publicly and at great risk to themselves. That is our calling, and we do not shirk it.

Every newspaper has its angle, and we do not hide the fact that we have ours. Our commitment is to see Sri Lanka as a transparent, secular, liberal democracy. Think about those words, for they each has profound meaning. Transparent because government must be openly accountable to the people and never abuse their trust. Secular because in a multi-ethnic and multi-cultural society such as ours, secularism offers the only common ground by which we might all be united. Liberal because we recognise that all human beings are created different, and we need to accept others for what they are and not what we would like them to be. And democratic... well, if you need me to explain why that is important, you'd best stop buying this paper.

The Sunday Leader has never sought safety by unquestioningly articulating the majority view. Let's face it, that is the way to sell newspapers. On the contrary, as our opinion pieces over the years amply demonstrate, we often voice ideas that many people find distasteful. For example, we have consistently espoused the view that while separatist terrorism must be eradicated, it is more important to address the root causes of terrorism, and urged government to view Sri Lanka's ethnic strife in the context of history and not through the telescope of terrorism. We have also agitated against state terrorism in the so-called war against terror, and made no secret of our horror that Sri Lanka is the only country in the world routinely to bomb its own citizens. For these views we have been labelled traitors, and if this be treachery, we wear that label proudly.

Many people suspect that The Sunday Leader has a political agenda: it does not. If we appear more critical of the government than of the opposition it is only because we believe that - pray excuse cricketing argot - there is no point in bowling to the fielding side. Remember that for the few years of our existence in which the UNP was in office, we proved to be the biggest thorn in its flesh, exposing excess and corruption wherever it occurred. Indeed, the steady stream of embarrassing expos‚s we published may well have served to precipitate the downfall of that government.

Neither should our distaste for the war be interpreted to mean that we support the Tigers. The LTTE are among the most ruthless and bloodthirsty organisations ever to have infested the planet. There is no gainsaying that it must be eradicated. But to do so by violating the rights of Tamil citizens, bombing and shooting them mercilessly, is not only wrong but shames the Sinhalese, whose claim to be custodians of the dhamma is forever called into question by this savagery, much of which is unknown to the public because of censorship.

What is more, a military occupation of the country's north and east will require the Tamil people of those regions to live eternally as second-class citizens, deprived of all self respect. Do not imagine that you can placate them by showering "development" and "reconstruction" on them in the post-war era. The wounds of war will scar them forever, and you will also have an even more bitter and hateful Diaspora to contend with. A problem amenable to a political solution will thus become a festering wound that will yield strife for all eternity. If I seem angry and frustrated, it is only because most of my countrymen - and all of the government - cannot see this writing so plainly on the wall.

It is well known that I was on two occasions brutally assaulted, while on another my house was sprayed with machine-gun fire. Despite the government's sanctimonious assurances, there was never a serious police inquiry into the perpetrators of these attacks, and the attackers were never apprehended. In all these cases, I have reason to believe the attacks were inspired by the government. When finally I am killed, it will be the government that kills me.

The irony in this is that, unknown to most of the public, Mahinda and I have been friends for more than a quarter century. Indeed, I suspect that I am one of the few people remaining who routinely addresses him by his first name and uses the familiar Sinhala address oya when talking to him. Although I do not attend the meetings he periodically holds for newspaper editors, hardly a month passes when we do not meet, privately or with a few close friends present, late at night at President's House. There we swap yarns, discuss politics and joke about the good old days. A few remarks to him would therefore be in order here.

Mahinda, when you finally fought your way to the SLFP presidential nomination in 2005, nowhere were you welcomed more warmly than in this column. Indeed, we broke with a decade of tradition by referring to you throughout by your first name. So well known were your commitments to human rights and liberal values that we ushered you in like a breath of fresh air. Then, through an act of folly, you got yourself involved in the Helping Hambantota scandal. It was after a lot of soul-searching that we broke the story, at the same time urging you to return the money. By the time you did so several weeks later, a great blow had been struck to your reputation. It is one you are still trying to live down.

You have told me yourself that you were not greedy for the presidency. You did not have to hanker after it: it fell into your lap. You have told me that your sons are your greatest joy, and that you love spending time with them, leaving your brothers to operate the machinery of state. Now, it is clear to all who will see that that machinery has operated so well that my sons and daughter do not themselves have a father.

In the wake of my death I know you will make all the usual sanctimonious noises and call upon the police to hold a swift and thorough inquiry. But like all the inquiries you have ordered in the past, nothing will come of this one, too. For truth be told, we both know who will be behind my death, but dare not call his name. Not just my life, but yours too, depends on it.

Sadly, for all the dreams you had for our country in your younger days, in just three years you have reduced it to rubble. In the name of patriotism you have trampled on human rights, nurtured unbridled corruption and squandered public money like no other President before you. Indeed, your conduct has been like a small child suddenly let loose in a toyshop. That analogy is perhaps inapt because no child could have caused so much blood to be spilled on this land as you have, or trampled on the rights of its citizens as you do. Although you are now so drunk with power that you cannot see it, you will come to regret your sons having so rich an inheritance of blood. It can only bring tragedy. As for me, it is with a clear conscience that I go to meet my Maker. I wish, when your time finally comes, you could do the same. I wish.

As for me, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I walked tall and bowed to no man. And I have not travelled this journey alone. Fellow journalists in other branches of the media walked with me: most of them are now dead, imprisoned without trial or exiled in far-off lands. Others walk in the shadow of death that your Presidency has cast on the freedoms for which you once fought so hard. You will never be allowed to forget that my death took place under your watch. As anguished as I know you will be, I also know that you will have no choice but to protect my killers: you will see to it that the guilty one is never convicted. You have no choice. I feel sorry for you, and Shiranthi will have a long time to spend on her knees when next she goes for Confession for it is not just her owns sins which she must confess, but those of her extended family that keeps you in office.

As for the readers of The Sunday Leader, what can I say but Thank You for supporting our mission. We have espoused unpopular causes, stood up for those too feeble to stand up for themselves, locked horns with the high and mighty so swollen with power that they have forgotten their roots, exposed corruption and the waste of your hard-earned tax rupees, and made sure that whatever the propaganda of the day, you were allowed to hear a contrary view. For this I - and my family - have now paid the price that I have long known I will one day have to pay. I am - and have always been - ready for that. I have done nothing to prevent this outcome: no security, no precautions. I want my murderer to know that I am not a coward like he is, hiding behind human shields while condemning thousands of innocents to death. What am I among so many? It has long been written that my life would be taken, and by whom. All that remains to be written is when.

That The Sunday Leader will continue fighting the good fight, too, is written. For I did not fight this fight alone. Many more of us have to be - and will be - killed before The Leader is laid to rest. I hope my assassination will be seen not as a defeat of freedom but an inspiration for those who survive to step up their efforts. Indeed, I hope that it will help galvanise forces that will usher in a new era of human liberty in our beloved motherland. I also hope it will open the eyes of your President to the fact that however many are slaughtered in the name of patriotism, the human spirit will endure and flourish. Not all the Rajapakses combined can kill that.

People often ask me why I take such risks and tell me it is a matter of time before I am bumped off. Of course I know that: it is inevitable. But if we do not speak out now, there will be no one left to speak for those who cannot, whether they be ethnic minorities, the disadvantaged or the persecuted. An example that has inspired me throughout my career in journalism has been that of the German theologian, Martin Niem”ller. In his youth he was an anti-Semite and an admirer of Hitler. As Nazism took hold in Germany, however, he saw Nazism for what it was: it was not just the Jews Hitler sought to extirpate, it was just about anyone with an alternate point of view. Niem”ller spoke out, and for his trouble was incarcerated in the Sachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1937 to 1945, and very nearly executed. While incarcerated, Niem”ller wrote a poem that, from the first time I read it in my teenage years, stuck hauntingly in my mind:

First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me.

If you remember nothing else, remember this: The Leader is there for you, be you Sinhalese, Tamil, Muslim, low-caste, homosexual, dissident or disabled. Its staff will fight on, unbowed and unafraid, with the courage to which you have become accustomed. Do not take that commitment for granted. Let there be no doubt that whatever sacrifices we journalists make, they are not made for our own glory or enrichment: they are made for you. Whether you deserve their sacrifice is another matter. As for me, God knows I tried.

- Lasantha Wickramatunga

It is worth remembering why we protest when liberties begin to be eroded, and the state starts to gather more power to itself. What might it allow?

Explosions in Colombo

We heard distant explosions or gunfire about an hour or so ago, followed a few minutes later by a power cut. People near the oil refinery report explosions there, and Reuters reports that a Tamil Tiger plane bombed the refinery. Lanka Business Online reports a fire in a power station.

Power has been restored. Nothing on local TV yet. We're some distance from the explosions - everyone here's fine.

Let's hear it for free internet access

Thanks to the enlightened airport planners of Doha who have allowed free internet access for transit passengers. Hopefully the machines don't have too many keyloggers installed - I just got a pop up saying a popular anti-virus package was deactivated!

At least it means I can catch up with my email - even if I have to change all my passwords when I arrive.

Off to Colombo next. Hi Maithrie, if you're reading this. See you soon :-)

Meanwhile, back in January

Did I say warmer?

Colombo is certainly warmer than Belfast. There are other differences as well. Yesterday I realised that driving lessons too are not the same - though given the traffic, that's not so surprising.

The appointed time was 1.30 so, naturally enough, when we arrived we were told that our instructor would not be there until 2pm. At least Maithrie was told (What do you think, Paul). We sat in the office, immersed in the sounds and smells of the street.
Unimpeded by door, wall or window, the sensations wafted (or blasted) from the road, across the rough ground in front, and straight into the room.

A minibus drew up across the road, and four of us stood up. "An interesting lesson this will be," I thought, as we weaved our way through the streaming traffic, towards the vehicle.

With seven of us wedged into the back, the minibus started slowly, unsteadily. For at least one of us the lesson had begun. As we weaved slowly through cars, buses and trishaws, parked, whizzing madly, or unexpectedly and randomly stopped, Maithrie and I realised we were heading right back where we had started from. Where we had caught that trishaw, rushing for our mythical deadline.

We meandered slowly onwards, yet backwards, the instructor gently nudging the wheel when the student's shaky course seemed desperately attracted to sudden death by bus or lorry, or to instant carnage for pedestrian, cow or passengers, or by a horrid fascination with the trenches that ran, hungry and inviting, along the roadside. Maithrie too had her turn in the fateful seat, reversing and threading ever closer to where we had started.

One hour later, and further than ever from our destination, we dismounted and ran for a bus. It stopped, half off the road, half in traffic, and we searched for a seat by a working wondow. It's good to breathe and watch as death and mayhem lurch slowly by!

Elephants at Pinnawela elephant orphanage

What I did on my holidays

Some pictures from Sri Lanka...









There are a few more stuck on my phone... I did say they might have to wait a bit :-/

Hello from Sri Lanka

I'm in Sri Lanka, where it's warmer than at home, and sometimes even wetter. It's not as cheap as it used to be - from a local perspective, things are getting very expensive. But I've got a local SIM for my mobile phone, and call and text charges are better than O2 roaming. Veeeeeerrry much better!

No insightful posts about the state of the country today - it's getting late. And pictures will have to wait till the right connections can get sorted out. But I'm having a good time in Kandy.

And Happy Birthday to my sister, if she's reading this. Your card is in the email, since there seems to be another postal strike back home.

Onwards and upwards

On a couple of trips into the surrounding areas we saw some spectacular views, and some very atmospheric ones -- for which read "so much mist we couldn't see a thing". World's End is supposed to have a huge drop and an amazing vista, but for us, the word ended in a wall of grey. I'm assured that's very rare! And the views later on were pretty spectacular...

...until the sun set while we were some way from the carpark!
On the way to the Rest House we were getting directions from a local. The road was pretty bumpy, so the driver asked him if it was like this all the way. "Yes," he replied, "it's a good road!" We eventually made it (after avoiding a place that looked like it had an hourly room rate), and had an excellent meal, a hot shower, and a fair room. The blankets were clean too - we'd just bought a pile of them earlier in the day.

Back to work on the scenery the next day...


Another night we stayed in an old Tea Plantation owner's bungalow, converted into a guesthouse. Apparently it has spectacular views... so the manager dug out his laptop and showed us what we would have seen if we'd come on any other day of the year.

The plantation manager was telling us that the tea plantation is still in operation, and they try to run the estate on fair and just principles, with decent salaries (by local standards) for the workers. It seems that many plantations keep their pickers in one-room houses, pay them a pittance, and give them few if any rights. He also had an interesting take on the benefits and drawbacks of the Fair Trade movement.


That's the road to the plantation. It's an excellent road!

Heading for the hills

We navigated level crossings and landslides (from last year's rains)...


...and encountered luxury (in the shape of air conditioned tea rooms, selling excellent tea), and hard conditions (workers doing manual labour under the bright sun, on the tea plantations and by the roads - I did not expect to see old ladies working on the roads!)


The countryside was magnificent...

but Sri Lanka is making me think a little more about our political difficulties in Northern Ireland, how hard it seems to be for us to agree on comparatively small issues, and about how we actually get the goods we consume in our daily lives.

A typical conversation

Shortly after arriving in Kandy I had the following conversation - over and over again, it seemed. At least twice, anyway:

Maithrie (in Sinhalese, or it might be Greek): Blah blah blah blah.
Shopkeeper (or as it may be, taxi driver or waiter): Blah blah blah blah.
Maithrie: Blah blah blah blah. Blah!
Shopkeeper: Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah.
Maithrie: What do you think, Paul?

It's got better now, fortunately - or maybe my telepathy has improved. My Sinhalese remains shamefully nonexistent.

Heading to Kandy

We left Colombo (fairly) early to head for Kandy. Radheeka, who is a bit of an expert on getting food, told us about a favourite wee curry place of hers, on the way.

It even had toilets.

Further on, we saw an elephant by the river.


A bit closer to Kandy, another opportunity for food presented itself. Coconuts, when you slice the top off, reveal a clear, refreshing drink. You can eat some of the insides as well. Very good - and easier to get than bottled water, in the countryside.

There were also fortune tellers who, for a modest fee, would tell you whatever you wanted to hear.

We are here!

OK. Safely arrived in Kandy Cottage. News and pictures to follow, with any luck.

It's supposed to be cooler here in the highlands, but today you wouldn't have known. Meanwhile, back at home, it's winter!