Reminiscing Panama pleasures of yore

During World War II, Mabal Stores in Pettah was similar to the modern “one-stop-shops”, where secondhand items like war jackets, boots, tents, station wagons etc. were sold. A few relatives of mine, being inherent lovers of nature, invested a paltry sum of Rs. 600 in a ramshackle wagon to venture out on pleasure trips in the 1950s.

We organized a trip to Panama to christen our “Smoky wagon” and with great enthusiasm reached the Haputale Hill climb in freezing cold weather by nightfall. The inevitable happened as "Smoky” puffing out black smoke came to a dead halt. We posed off as Inspectors of Police on holiday to an understanding garage baas who obliged us with a van and driver.

Head of the 195 lb wild boar shot at Panama in the 1950s. Chelliah did the preservation of the head with an ancient preservative adding salt, pepper and jungle herbs. Given to me in remembrance of him.

With the first streaks of light at dawn we reached Panama to see an awe- inspiring sight -- a glimpse of the brilliant red rays of the sun peeping through a dark cloud from the eastern ocean. The virgin forest too sprang to life with the songs of birds, the sweetest being the repeated shrill sounding notes of the ‘Haban Kukula’ found in thick jungles like the Sinharaja.

The small ponds on either side of the road were teeming with migrant birds like wild ducks, painted storks etc., busy picking their morning breakfast. Next we engaged Chelliah, a well-known tracker, who led us into the haunts of elephants and leopards. Our tent was pitched bordering a pond bubbling with fish, jumbo prawns and crabs providing us free daily delicious dishes during our stay. Chelliah was also an excellent cook. The tranquillity descending at the close of the day in the jungle with the musical twitter of nocturnal birds and the heavens illuminated above twinkling in the Milky-Way was a vision only a poet could describe.
The following day I had to oblige Chelliah’s request to shoot a wild boar as herds of them were devastating their livelihood of paddy, maize and kurakkan. The request was fulfilled after a whole night’s vigil when a dark object like 'a ghost from the tomb' crossed my path in the moonlight. It weighed 195 lbs, the biggest ever seen at Panama.

Thereafter the village celebrations reminded me of an African film of yesteryear, Trader Horn, with fascinating primitive dances. I will never forget how the village men and children rose to the occasion carrying the carcass shoulder high, dancing to the rhythmic beat of some old drums, clapping hands. Chulu lights showed the path to our tent casting a red glow on the forest as it set on fire reminiscent of the Kandy Perahera.

There seems to be a strange link between the lifestyle and legends of our Veddahs and primitive African dwellers. World famous elephant hunter Robert L. Scott gives a vivid description in his book, ‘Between the Elephant Eyes’ of such an event when they had shot a bull elephant tusker in Nairobi about 100 years ago. Their wild celebrations even stirred Scott emotionally to join in their dances with songs like “Bwana Mkuba” supposed to mean, “O, the great hunter came, saw and conquered”.

Thus our memorable trip ended with its enchanting delights, which type is unheard of today. (The entire carefree crew, including Chelliah the tracker, are all dead and gone, except the writer of this article)

By Derrick Weerasooriya, Hikkaduwa