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Betrayed by the Army, Weliweriya asks why
A slender woman in a white saree stood constantly by the schoolboy’s coffin. Her hands were clasped together and she muttered under her breath. Her eyes darted everywhere. She did not cry. But, once in a while, she begged her son to rise and greet his friends.
In the home of another dead schoolboy earlier that week, the reaction was different. His mother could not stand. When she spoke, her lips moved but her voice came out in a thin whisper. Her eyes were trained on the lifeless body in front of her. And she fainted several times.
The two houses were just a few kilometres apart in Weliweriya —one in Helenwatte, the other in Bandarawatte. While each woman coped with grief in her unique way, their boys were united in death. Ravishan Perera, 19, and Akila Dinesh, 17, were killed on August 1 when the Army trained its weapons on civilian protestors demanding clean water from the Government. A third person, Nilantha Pushpakumara from Gampola, succumbed to injuries sustained when he was assaulted inside the roadside church.
On Wednesday, Ravishan was interred at the Weliweriya Roman Catholic Public Cemetery. It is across the road from the Kanthi ground, where Highways Minister Jeyaraj Fernandopulle was killed in an LTTE suicide bombing in 2010.
Thousands of people marched from Ravishan’s home to the cemetery. They held up black, polythene flags and wore black, polythene armbands. They sang hymns from beginning to end. An expensive, large hearse from a well-known funeral parlour in Colombo rolled slowly ahead of the procession. It was empty. Ravishan’s family had refused to use the coffin, just as Akila’s mother had done.
Who paid for the hearse, we asked a group of women. “Must have been the people who killed him,” replied one, scornfully. “Now they will give them anything, try to pay them off with money, even three or four lakhs. That mother can’t get her son back.”
Other mourners crowded around. Emotions were high. They were angry, but they were also fearful. They had plenty to say but nobody agreed to be identified by name. “No, no,” said one of them. “We will talk to you but no names.” (People everywhere in Weliweriya requested anonymity).
“What did we ask for, miss?” lamented another. “We only wanted water. We protested for seven days. Somebody from this government could have done something, said something. Even if someone had come to us and said, for lies, that we will solve this problem, the situation would not have come to this. There would not have been such a disaster.”
Inhabitants of several villages across the Gampaha district had agitated for several days, demanding the closure of the Venigros rubber glove factory in Nedungamuwa, Weliweriya. They insisted that chemicals discharged over several years from its plants have increased groundwater acidity to dangerous levels. They wanted the factory relocated and for free, pipe-borne water to be provided to all households
The Sunday Times now learns that the Ministry of Defence had led efforts to resolve the issue since July 30. Ministry officials had not only spoken with villagers in affected areas but had summoned meetings. But people insisted last week that “nobody came” to look into their grievances, raising questions about the effectiveness of the communication strategy adopted by State apparatuses.
The Government claims a conspiracy was at work. “What conspiracy, miss?” interjected the woman next to her. “There was no conspiracy, nobody from outside. It was just the water. We can’t drink the water, it has low pH. Our mouths are burning, our bodies are scratching, people are falling ill. We are scared to give it to our children.”
“If you cut our nerves, you will see that even our blood is blue,” declared one middle-aged woman, emphatically. “We are strong SLFP (Sri Lanka Freedom Party) supporters here. We have voted for the SLFP from the beginning. Not anymore. Tell them not to set foot in our villages again.”
“Why do you want to make the water green or blue, miss?” said her friend. “This is a water problem. We have reports to prove that there is acid in the water. We paid and got the water checked ourselves from various government places.”
All over Weliweriya, even deep inside villages, people disclosed their SLFP leanings. They claimed to have exercised their vote in favour of the party for generations. Today, there is widespread anger against the party and the Government. A majority of those interviewed berated Economic Development Minister Basil Rajapaksa, who polled more than 400,000 votes in the Gampaha District.
What is worse, however, is the deep, searing disappointment people expressed in the Army. “I donated blood five times during the war,” said one young man in Weliweriya, pointing to a vein in his right arm. “I was at the protest. I ran for my life when the Army attacked. I didn’t stop till I came home. I used shortcuts and lanes to get home because they were chasing us.”
“I went to work at seven o’clock the next morning,” he continued. “Soldiers were still stationed in Weliweriya. I asked one of them why he shot at us. He said, ‘If you had this gun in your hand, you would have done the same’. So I asked why they hadn’t used rubber bullets. He replied, ‘We can’t mollycoddle people with rubber bullets’ (Rubber unda walin hurathal kara, kara inna behe).”
“They scolded women in raw filth,” recalled a woman near Ravishan’s house. “I hid inside a house till 11.30 p.m., too scared to come out. They found my sister’s son and beat him up. They trampled his neck with their boots. During the war, how many bodhi poojas we did for the Army…”
The manner in which the attack took place, including what triggered it, is now the subject of Police and Army investigations. The military says the civilians had provoked soldiers; that some had hit them with poles, as well as hurledsand-filled bottles and Molotov cocktails. Defence Secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa was quoted as saying the troops reacted when missiles were thrown at them.
It was not possible to decide from interviews how events had unfolded on August 1. There were too many discrepancies. Not surprisingly villagers insisted that nobody had attacked the Army—although they did admit that people had jeered and hooted at soldiers.
“Why would we want violence when there were old people and mothers with babies and children on the streets?” asked one woman. “We had barely had anything to eat or drink that day. The Army came with big weapons. Our boys had nothing. There were so many people there. How can the Government say that all of these people, all of these villagers, are lying?”
All along the streets of Weliweriya, handmade placards asked short, sharp questions. One read, “Awama balaya thuwakku nam, uparima balaya kumakda?” (If minimum force is guns, what is maximum force?) Another read, “Bona wathurata wuna hediya” (Look what happened to drinking water).
Not far from Ravishan’s house was one that stated, “Pipennata pera pushpayak nethi karey eyi sebala” (Soldier, why did you destroy a flower before it bloomed). And lying on the ground, pulled down from its place on an electricity pole, was a board that scoffed, “Ayuda dannethi brigadier” (The Brigadier who doesn’t know weapons).
On the day of Ravishan’s funeral, the riot squad was at the ready. The water cannon was parked near the Weliweriya police station and policemen with shields and tear gas guns dismounted from buses. Yet, as the procession made its way through the town, the squad kept its distance. It was clear that there would be no violence today. Villagers had united to bury a son.
Around seven kilometres away, the Chief Incumbent of the Galloluwa Sri Sambuddhatva Jayanthi Vihara remained strident. Venerable Theripaha Siridhamma Thera was the monk who had provided leadership to villagers as they started agitating for water.
Seated at his temple amidst paddy fields and fruit trees, he asserts that Venigros must never reopen its doors. “We don’t trust that factory,” he said, driving away some flies. “Whatever tests they do, we don’t trust those. No point now bringing any certificates. We won’t accept them and we don’t want to accept them. Just close it up and go away.”
His old mobile rings. Earlier that morning, as he ended one phone conversation, he turned to a man at the temple and said, “Americanwen call karey. Den wedey Americawatath gihin thiyenney…” (It’s a call from America. Now the incident has gone to America, too).
What started in Weliweriya could have ended in Weliweriya. Not anymore.
Magistrate orders CCD submit video where policeman accuses Magistrate
Gampaha Chief Magistrate Tikiri Jayathilake on Thursday ordered the Colombo Crimes Division (CCD) to submit a detailed report of a YouTube video clip, in which a police officer claims that the Magistrate had ignored requests to close down the factory that people in the Weliveriya area suspect of polluting the ground water.
The Magistrate issued this directive at the inquiry into the deaths of three persons killed in the incident. The Magistrate ordered the CCD to find the basis on which the police officer had made the comment. The police officer had claimed that they had pleaded with the Magistrate for two hours to get the factory closed, but the request had been turned down. The Magistrate refuted this claim.
The Chief Magistrate also observed that the video clip had over 3,000 views, and said the next hearing in the case will be fixed after the CCD submits its report. The Magistrate also said that anyone could come forward and give evidence in relation to the case, and he would decide who would qualify to be witnesses in the case.
Defence Ministry says no one gave orders to shoot
Nobody had ordered the soldiers in Weliweriya to shoot at protesting civilians, a Defence Ministry official exclusively told the Sunday Times yesterday. Speaking on condition of anonymity, he also said the military will not tolerate the kind of incident that occurred in Weliweriya on August 1. Some protesters had thrown stones and sand-filled bottles at soldiers. Three petrol bombs were flung. This had caused some troops to advance towards the crowd and the situation had escalated.
Giving the Defence Ministry’s version of the incident, this official claimed Defence Secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa had not even been aware of the violence unfolding in Weliweriya. This is because from 3 p.m. to 6 p.m., he had been at a meeting to solve the water dispute. Among those at the discussion, at which an amicable solution was found, were government officials, village representatives and the management of Hayleys.
It was on the night of July 26 that the Inspector General of Police had first requested the Chief of Defence Staff to deploy the army at the Venigros factory fearing that protesters would burn the place down. On August 1, army deployment had again been solicited, this time from the Superintendent of Police, Gampaha, to disperse the large crowds that had gathered at Belummahara, Miriswatta and Weliweriya.
A brigadier had been handling the troops in Weliweriya, the official said. On the evening of August 1, the brigadier had used a megaphone to announce that an agreement was reached in talks chaired by Defence Secretary. “People were dispersing,” the official noted. “Only then the stones and sand bottles came. Soldiers in front panicked, there was a little argument and some went a little front.”
“You can see from the footage that the moment a soldier goes forward, some of the villagers were attacking soldiers with poles,” he said. “Then there was a heated argument and one or two (people) were coming (forward). You can see soldiers going inside and one group gets isolated. People start agitating and they start firing up.”
This official said 90 weapons were handed over to the Magistrate after the incident. “One weapon was broken,” he observed. “Some had tried to grab the weapons.” The violence, with shooting, had started around 6 p.m. and continued sporadically till about 7.30 or 8 p.m., the official said.
There were reports of troops attacking civilians seeking refuge in the church. “There is a jungle patch at the rear, behind the church,” the official said. “Some people were there. They started stoning the soldiers. There was no proper control.” “Soldiers went inside the church, I don’t deny that,” he continued. “But I’m trying to emphasize that they went not because anybody gave orders to do so. People went behind the church and started stoning them.”
The official said he thought the ground commander didn’t have a grip on the situation. “It is the individual soldier’s responsibility and the ground commander should also have control of it, which he didn’t have.” He denied that the troops were deployed in large number. “There were around 90 soldiers,” he said, adding that the T56 was the army’s usual weapon and that soldier’s did not have a habit of using rubber bullets.
Referring to the assault of two journalists and the destruction of cameras, the official said, “This is never acceptable in any form. Going into the church is not acceptable at all. The military is doing an inquiry on this. The Secretary of Defence is also very clear. The whole world is waiting. We don’t want to tolerate this kind of thing. “
This official accused interested parties of having escalated the situation in Weliweriya, even when a solution had been agreed upon. He said some of the troublemakers were among 127 employees of Venigros who had been sacked from the factory in January. “There was a group that didn’t want this problem to end,” he maintained. “They exploited the situation.” He also said that many senior and junior army officers, as well as soldiers, have connections to the Gampaha district and the affected villages.
“In fact, Akila Dinesh, the boy who died, is a nephew of Brigadiar A.W. M. P. R. Seneviratne, Director Operations at the Joint Operations Headquarters,” he revealed.
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