Appreciations
View(s):Sujith Jayawickrema
He rose to the need of the country
Sujith Jayawickrema was the son of the late Errol Jayawickrema and nephew of the late Montague Jayawickrema, MP for Weligama. Monty as he was popularly known did not have any sons and it was Sujith who carried the legacy of the Jayawickrema name in Weligama.
He leaves behind his wife Susanna and sons Sachine and Rehan and a grandson.
Sujith was educated at S. Thomas’ College, Mount Lavinia and was a loyal Thomian. He was a planter by profession who acquitted himself with great distinction as an estate manager. He was loved by all and was a gentleman who cared for his friends and family. He later retired to his family property Charleymount Estate in Denipitiya where he lived with his charming wife Susanna.
He has a special place in my heart because he readily agreed to my suggestion when the country was imperiled during the LTTE’s reign of terror to contest the Weligama seat as a candidate for the Sihala Urumaya under the leadership of S.L. Gunasekera. The contribution of the Sihala Urumaya to a united Sri Lanka has now passed into history. It was the Sihala Urumaya that brought pressure on the government in office about the peril faced by the country if the LTTE was not degraded and defeated. Many thought this was an impossible dream and that we have to concede a separate state albeit in name. It was those like Sujith who veered away from the traditional affiliation of his family to the United National Party to rise to the need of the country. He believed in the vision of a strong independent Sri Lanka and was willing to fight for it.
The later years of their life both Sujith and Susanna spent in helping the less fortunate in Weligama through a charity established by them titled the Jayawickreme Foundation. Typical of both of them there was no publicity or fanfare about the work that they did. This charity touched the lives of countless people who were affected by the tsunami. In recognition of the work done to the community and the people of Weligama he was awarded the most prestigious title given to a layman by the Rohana Sangha Sabawa- Sri Rohana Abimanya.
Both were strongly committed to a sovereign Sri Lanka and particularly Susanna fought like a leopard when Sri Lanka was criticized by foreigners with little knowledge of the country. She was a writer of no mean repute and made some valuable contributions to German magazines and the Sri Lanka press.
Sujith later developed the debilitating Parkinson’s disease. This is when Susanna turned into Florence Nightingale. She cared for the ailing Sujith with such tenderness and attention and looked after him right to the very end. She took him to Nuwara Eliya to his old haunts and just before he passed into the sunset they both spent a memorable holiday overseas.
I am their neighbour in the Southern province, and Sujith was also my friend and cousin. He epitomised the best in this region.
He was fearless, a good friend and wonderful husband and father. His premature exit from the stage leaves Susanna saddened and alone. But she is a German and a fighter, and I do hope she will continue with the same fervour to work for the people of Weligama .
Sunset and evening star One last call for me Let there be no mourning at the bar When I put out to sea.Malinga H. Gunaratne
Dr. Clarence Muttiah
His was the voice of the family
It is extremely hard to adequately express in a few paragraphs all that you feel for someone that you have respected, admired and loved all your life. I find myself in that position as I think about Claro Mama’s life, work and example after his passing in August 2014, a few months short of his 85th birthday. There are so many ways I could express myself about Claro Mama but I decided to focus on his voice and how it influenced me from the time of my childhood.
When I alerted a friend about Claro Mama’s death, her first comment was “the celestial choir in heaven just got a fine bass.” How true. One of my strongest memories of Claro Mama was his commanding voice in the choir at St. Paul’s Milagiriya. His powerful, rich bass was the timekeeper for the choir, just like an upright bass in a jazz trio, anchoring it and moving it along at the right tempo. It was his formidable voice that boosted the confidence of the others in the choir to sing on. His voice bordered between a deep, operatic bass and a baritone, sort of a blend between Paul Robeson and Lou Rawls. Claro Mama had sung in that choir since he was a young lad and had grown to assume the mantle of the senior bass by the time I joined as a youngster in the front row.
For a decade, from about 1973 to 1983, the choir at St. Paul’s was dominated by those connected to the Muttiah family, from the organ pew (my father Mervyn) to the front row (the Muttiah cousins, singing treble) and then the Brothers Muttiah, Clarence, Tyrell and Sam in the back row. Eventually, the trebles graduated to sing in the back row. We all spent hours at St. Paul’s at choir practice and singing at various services. With Claro Mama tethering the choir, we tackled an array of choral compositions and performed admirably. From John W. Peterson’s Christmas Cantata to excerpts from Handel’s Messiah to regularly singing Evensong, Claro Mama was the choir’s undisputed leader. I still get goose bumps thinking of him singing the bass line on one of his favourite hymns, the Cwm Rhonda.
What became clear to me as I got older was how his singing at St. Paul’s was one of the ways he reaffirmed his faith and recommitted himself to the teachings of Jesus. His vocal prowess was certainly not limited to the sacred and extended to the secular. Chrishan and I often talk about his rendition of Galway Bay at various family get-togethers in the 1970s and 1980s. He sang that song with so much passion and emotion that a Martian hearing him would have assumed he was from the west coast of Ireland, somewhere between County Galway and County Clare!
The second way his voice influenced me was the impact it had when he counselled his legions of patients, in Mahiyangana (where he aided the Veddah community), Kegalle, Trinco, Negombo, Colombo and other parts of Sri Lanka. I can still hear him tapping into his vast medical knowledge and exceptional diagnostic skills and in that soothing, sonorous voice, advising his patients about their condition and recommending the best course of medical action. I have no doubt that the empathy, sensitivity and confidence infused in his voice was a massive positive in helping his patients and their families deal with their medical diagnoses. I also know the sound of his voice, with its calm, measured and resonant delivery, was reassuring to his patients and their families regardless of whether the news was good or not so good.
The third way his voice impacted me was listening to him relay stories from the past. He absolutely enjoyed the role of storyteller and over the years, I was privileged to listen to him on numerous occasions in different parts of the globe, sometimes in person and sometimes over the phone. Listening to him deliver these stories in that deeply mellifluous timbre from the lower registers of the human vocal scale, was such a treat. Some of the stories stretched back decades and contained valuable nuggets of family history that I fear have evaporated with his passing. His memory recall was absolutely remarkable (even as recently as a short while before his death) and extended to details from his childhood, time at Royal College, tales about his father that captivated me (my grandfather, who passed away before I was born), distant and not-so-distant family members, colleagues at medical school, experiences while practising medicine and innumerable tales from his interactions with family, friends, acquaintances and strangers over his long life. Some six years ago, Shanthini and I got to spend quality time with him and Lakshmi Mami in Cairo, Egypt, when their son Teddy was based there. For several days in Cairo, it was just the four of us and Shanthini and I would go on various sight-seeing expeditions during the day and return in the evening to spend several hours in conversation with Claro Mama, a rare privilege indeed.
In closing, there are so many aspects of Claro Mama’s life that I have not even touched on, particularly his powerful influence on his mother and siblings in leading them and inspiring them to greater heights and his incalculable role as a husband, father, grandfather, uncle and friend. I decided to focus on his voice because that was what resonated with me as a youngster and continued to do so into my adulthood. He was truly the voice of the family. While we will always miss Claro Mama, we are so grateful for his long, productive and godly life.
Sujit CanagaRetna
Nayeema Junkeer
Inspirational, admired and loved by all
Those we love don’t go away, they walk beside us every day. Unseen, unheard, but always near; still loved, still missed and very dear.
A year ago, we experienced a deep loss when one of the brightest stars in our lives passed away.
Nayeema Junkeer was an incredible mother and grandmother, and an exceptional woman. A Mum to 13 children and Nene to 18 grandchildren, 9 great grandchildren and 3 great-great grandchildren, ‘Mummy’, as she was fondly known to everyone, was the epitome of kindness and wisdom.
Her greatest pleasure in life was being surrounded by her family; she was the thread that kept us tightly knit together. She would eagerly wait for Sundays so that she could spend time with all of us. Meal times, in particular, were a source of immense joy for Nene, and her famous soup was a family favourite.
The Lady of 99/1b Quarry Road, Mummy ruled her home with an iron fist and a heart of gold. A greatly compassionate soul, she graciously helped everyone around her. Whether they were family members in need, or the less fortunate who came round after Friday prayers, her doors and heart were always open.
Not being a great believer in prescribed medication, her remedy for all illnesses was a hot cup of Kothamalli or a soothing rub-down with Vicks. Whether it was the effectiveness of the Kothamalli or her healing hands, Mummy’s remedies always worked!
If ever we were troubled, her wise words to us would be, “Don’t worry, everything will be okay. I have made a vow and put a coin in the till.” Most of the time, her kind and reassuring words could solve the most difficult situations. To her grandchildren, Nene was a great friend. We shared everything and could always count on her for her treasured advice. The secrets we shared with her stayed with her; in fact, some of them are still not known to our parents!
Mummy was an exceptionally positive and happy person; always smiling, laughing and filled with love for all her children. The memories of her sitting on her favourite chair, wearing her pretty dresses, flipping through Hello! and listening to the tunes of Jon Secada will always be etched in our minds.
The remarkable manner in which this devoted matriarch brought up such a large family and taught us about life has been incredibly inspirational. She moulded us into the individuals we are today and we owe all our achievements to her. Her traditions and beliefs are an intrinsic part of us that will pass on from generation to generation.
Mummy, on this day, we promise to continue your legacy of kindness and compassion and to always stay united as a family, because this is what you held most dear.
You will remain in our hearts forever and we love you unconditionally.
Loving children and grandchildren
Mano Paiva
Those wonderful family trips and much more
My sister Mano (nee Pereira) was well known for her generosity, warmth, gracious hospitality and wonderful smile. She was particularly mindful of the downtrodden, and went all out to help them. It could truly be said of her that her left hand did not know what her right hand gave.
When our parents went to the Holy Land and Europe when I was seven years old, and Mano was eight, they left us in the junior boarding at St Bridget’s saying it would be only for one term, but eventually we were there for two whole years. My eldest sister was then in the Senior Boarding. During those years it was Mano who lifted my spirits when I felt homesick.
For many years, she ran a little cafe on the verandah of F.X. Pereira and Sons, my father’s shop in Pettah, where she sold luscious cakes, cheese cakes and various savouries and drinks.
In 1963, she and her husband Francis, migrated to U.S.A. He left first to do his Ph.D. Mano and the then four children (the fifth child was born in U.S.A.) joined him, travelling by ship on a month-long voyage. He then joined the U.N. and they were posted to various places including Philippines and Malaysia. While they were in Malaysia, she rang me up and suggested that as their assignment was due to end in a month’s time, I should come to visit them. I stayed 10 days with them. They did everything to make my stay memorable.
I visited her in U.S.A. in 1989, where they went all out to make me comfortable and treated me right royally.
Each time they visited Sri Lanka on holiday, she planned her visit weeks ahead. She was a good organiser. We three sisters and our husbands always enjoyed our holidays in the hills.
In 1993 she came to Sri Lanka on her way to Madras, Bangalore and Mysore for one week, to visit our relations. She wanted as many brothers and sisters as possible to join them on this trip (we were a family of nine, but three brothers had died earlier). Thus it was that ten of us including my eldest sister and a sister-in-law, both widows, and three nieces, spent a hectic but memorable week there.
Her last visit was in 2009. She told me then “This is our last visit to Sri Lanka. The travelling has been too tiring”.
These are the memories of a loving sister who can never be replaced or forgotten.
Therese Motha
Fr. Damian Fernando, OMI
He was both a medical doctor and spiritual doctor
Fr. Damian Fernando, OMI, passed away on September 9, at a comparatively young age of 58 years. He had the rare distinction of being a double doctor – - a medical doctor and a spiritual doctor.
At the height of a very successful and lucrative career as a gynaecologist, he gave up his medical practice and hearkened to the Lord’s call: ‘Come, follow me’.
His healing hands not only cured the physical ailments of his fellow beings, but also soothed the minds and hearts of God’s people.
He was ordained a priest on September 1, 2001, and within a short span of 13 years, he reaped a rich harvest in the vineyard of the Lord. Inspite of his priestly obligations and duties, he was always ready to help those who sought
medical advice.
Fr. Damian knew what suffering was, and therefore endured his own sufferings with equanimity and great trust in God.
Dear Fr. Damian, the Oblate Community, your family members and your friends miss you very much. We know and believe that choirs of Angels have conducted you to Paradise.
So, this is not a farewell or a goodbye! But, in the sweet by and by, we shall meet again on that beautiful shore.
Russel Fernando
Col. W.J. Wickramage
Seeya’s life was a sweet song of love and happiness
It is often said that the sole pursuit in life is happiness. Memories of my Seeya always warm my heart with a deep sense of joy and happiness. Seeya’s candid, cheek-to-cheek smile that was a permanent feature of his countenance was a source of joy to so many people whose lives were touched by this great man of humanity and kindness.
Seeya was always happy, no matter what his life’s circumstances were. He shared that happiness with everyone and his smile was infectious. If happiness is the fulfillment of life, Seeya was a source of such fulfilment to so many people over a very long period.
It has been a year since Seeya’s passing. But we all feel as if he is still with us. Seeya lived to the ripe old age of 104 years and remained sound in his mind till the end, though his last year saw him becoming more and more frail. I was fortunate to have spent a lot of time with him over the last 10 years during my frequent visits to Sri Lanka. During those moments spent together, time stood still. In relaxed conversation, we shared ideas, and thoughts. Listening to his remarkable memories and life-experiences enriched me tremendously. His words of wisdom edified me and his lessons in life equipped me. I deeply miss his company, his loving smile and his presence. Seeya is no more, but his legacy remains as alive as never before.
Seeya hailed from a remote village in the Kurunegala district. His stories about his childhood in the peasantry and paddy fields of Sri Lanka 100 years ago were both enchanting and almost surreal. Even in his late nineties he had a vivid recollection of those carefree days of simple village life and he shared the stories with a chuckle and a twinkle in the eye. It was a testimony to how much he felt blessed by the simple things in life despite the circumstances being so basic and Spartan. He was grateful for everything no matter how inconsequential it may have been.
Seeya became a Christian in his teens and went onto enrol in the training college of the Salvation Army to become an ordained minister in this new denomination. The Salvation Army epitomised Christ’s teaching of servitude and love in its doctrine of social service. Seeya fitted in well and this was the starting point of a very long and rich life of selfless service to the humanity and its Creator. Seeya met my grandmother (Achchi amma) at the training college and they fell in love and married. They raised five children and my mother was their second – born daughter.
Seeya quickly rose up in the ranks of the Salvation Army and gained prominence due to his amazing capabilities, organizational skills, leadership skills and initiative. But above all his driving force was his uncompromising and deep conviction to his beliefs and the values through which this was made manifest. Seeya’s active service culminated in becoming the highest ranked indigenous leader in the Salvation Army of Sri Lanka in his day. Even after his retirement he did not cease serving his Lord and continued as a chaplain and contributed to many social service ministries.
Seeya’s life was by no means a bed of roses. He recounted the hardships he endured at different times in his life. In fact he not only had to take care of his family during those uncertain times but also those outside that were entrusted to his care by the Salvation Army. He had very interesting stories to tell about the dark times during World War II where he had to shoulder responsibilities and how he stood up to those challenges; such accounts reflected his courage and determination to me.
In an era where transport was limited he walked from town to town preaching the gospel and attending to those who needed assistance. Thus he managed to visit many towns and hamlets across the country from the north to the south, the east to the west and also all over the central hills. He visited the prisons to minister to those incarcerated and visited hospitals regularly to serve the sick and the invalid. He visited orphanages to assist the destitute. He was particularly committed to his work with the Sisters of Mercy and their home for the destitute called the “Home of Compassion” in Mahawatta. He was a life-long member of the Rotary club, which was another conduit for his social service ministry.
I was a very blessed grandchild to have had so much opportunity to build a very close relationship with my grandparents. The influences, inspiration, nurturing and encouragement we received from Seeya set us up very well to the challenge of achieving what we wanted in life and this goes for my brother, sister and cousins.
Seeya was very much a family man, a towering giant in our lives. He was ever present at every occasion in our lives. His prayers graced special occasions and I can still vividly remember him turning up without fail at our home in his red push bicycle to offer a prayer at our birthdays. He had 13 grandchildren and he remembered all their birthdays! His affection and care was such that I can remember one rainy night, when I was just 6 years old, Seeya carrying me and walking all the way over 10 kilometres from home to the Children’s hospital; those were the days before one could call a taxi or access public transport after dark.
Seeya was a prayer warrior. He started each day with a prayer and ended the day with one. He always spent much time reading the Bible. These are habits that still live on in us and hopefully in our children too in time to come.
Life is a song and its melody and tune and its beat define what that the song means. In Seeya’s life the song and its tune was one of love, humility, kindness and generosity. The rhythm was his strong faith. And the beat was the unceasing service and altruism. Seeya finished his journey on earth and joined the Lord in eternal celebration for which he prepared himself every day of his long and remarkable life. But his song lingers and echoes on for us who are left here on earth. Seeya’s life was a sweet song of love and happiness.
Rohan Jayasinghe