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Rich tapestry of togetherness
As Soma Amunugama celebrates her 100th b’day, her soul mate of 69 years and their children share fond memories
By Kumudini Hettiarachchi

The beginning of a lifetime relationship: Walter and Soma on their wedding day in 1937

She is 100. He is 98. She is born on February 15, 1906 and he on March 12, 1908. They have been soul-mates for 69 years – a lifetime in itself.
And the Amunugama clan – two sons, daughter, six grandchildren and three great-grandchildren – had all gathered at the maha gedera in Nugawela close to Katugastota last Saturday to celebrate another milestone in their journey together, for Soma Amunugama achieved the century mark on February 15.
It was a day of celebration without fanfare or over-indulgence. Religious ceremonies set the tone, simplicity being the key. A traditional breakfast of sweetmeats and fruit followed by a sumptuous lunch and that all important cake – proudly proclaiming ‘100’ cut and shared among relatives and friends. For though the footsteps are a shuffle, the eyes are dimmed, the spirit is undaunted and the good done and being done still remain.

In between the hustle and bustle, The Sunday Times is able to have a few words with the couple. Witty Walter Muthubanda Amunugama and equally full of repartee, Soma Amungama nee Nilmalgoda. Yes, the hair is silver and time, one hundred years for one and 98 for the other, has passed quickly, but the mind is lucid.

Do they quarrel? “Find me a home where people don’t fight. Of course, we fight,” says the patriarch of the Amunugama clan, while the sprightly matriarch adds: “Eka eka eva kiyanawa. Mama ganan ganne ne.” (He says all sorts of things but I don’t take any notice.)

The colourful and rich tapestry of their lives is gradually threaded in by those closest to them. “My parents were well-known principals,” says Minister Sarath Leelananda Bandara Amunugama, the eldest son, explaining that his father was very lucky because an uncle, H.B. Ellepola, one of the first Sinhala Inspectors of Police, took him under his wing. “He took my father from his village to his home in Panadura and sent him to St. John’s.” That’s where his latent talents in sports came to the fore and he became an all-Ceylon athlete. Dubbed the ‘miler’ he was a runner of marathons, never losing one-mile races.

School career over, he joined the army, under the colonial government, as a second lieutenant. “It was about the time of World War II and he was posted to Trincomalee under Commanding Officer Lt. Udugama,” says Dr. Amunugama. Demobilized later, he came to the first crossroad in his life – should he join the police or become a teacher? “A teacher’s salary was Rs. 5 and that’s what he took up. It was higher than the salary a sub-inspector would get, while he also felt he could give of his services in this field,” says Dr. Amunugama.
He was also a dashing and eligible bachelor, what with all the property left to him by Uncle Ellepola’s wife who was an heiress of the Attygalle family. “The Ellepolas were his surrogate parents,” says Dr. Amunugama who is Minister of Public Administration and Home Affairs.

Unknown to the young man, a slip of a girl in Akiriyagala, off Kegalle from the respected Nilmalgoda family was moulding her own destiny, with the staunch support of her elder brother. She too was a teacher having studied at Musaeus College in Colombo in the days when girls were more or less confined to learning domestic work. “Her brother was a liberal thinker and insisted that she be educated,” says a relative.

Those were the days when love marriages were frowned on and the paths of the two crossed when a match was proposed. When asked when they married, Mrs. Amunugama lifts her head, thinks and replies in a second, “August of 1937.” The marriage took place amidst much celebration in her home in Kegalle, decorated with bunting including the Union Jack.

They were partners in a journey they may not have imagined would last a lifetime. Daughter Sujatha Tennekoon’s memories of her childhood are of a life of routines. Being the children of two teachers and later principals, the ‘time-table’ was sacrosanct. “Come back from school, have lunch and play. They never discriminated against anyone and we were allowed to play with all the children in the village. Tea-time was at 3.30 p.m. and there was always a spread,” she says explaining that Amma was a very good cook and made different foods for the children, though she herself was working. “Those times were precious and I think Aiya (Minister Amunugama) loves the simple bread, butter and jam sandwich up to this day.”

Four o’clock would see the children around the table with their books. “Amma would check our Sinhala books and Appochchi the English ones. They also helped a lot of other children including relatives with their studies,” says Sujatha, while Dr. Amunugama adds that for them the advantage was that their father was well-versed in the western tradition and their mother in the oriental. “We got the best of both worlds,” he says. “We were taken for all the best movies from Hollywood and learnt to appreciate Shakespeare and Shaw among others.”

Conceding that Appochchi was strict, Dr. Amunugama, however, hastens to say that they were never-ever caned. “Both our parents were also concerned about others and many are the villagers who learnt to sign their names instead of using their fingerprints. My father also never smoked or drank alcohol, setting an example to others.”

For the children, studies ended at 7.30 with half-an-hour for relaxation followed by dinner. “We always ate a balanced meal, and mallun was an essential part of it. Appochchi would sit at the table, pick out the choice foods and give it to us,” laughs Chuti Duwa Sujatha. “Sometimes to Loku Putha Sarath, me or Punchi Putha Asoka.” (Asoka Madduma Bandara Amunugama, the more reticent of the three progeny, is a Major-General in the army)

It was lights off at nine in the night.
Sujatha remembers with wonder how methodical Mr. Amunugama was. In the morning when the whole family was rushing around getting ready for school if a child required something, he always had it handy. “It could be a pencil, a pen, an eraser, a double-rule book or a square rule book. He had the stocks at home.”

Not only was he methodical, he also loved gadgets, says Dr. Amunugama. He bought a barometer and from that day meticulously entered the changing weather patterns daily. “He still has his diary with those entries and also a detailed breakdown of the expenses of the day. Always service-oriented, he was the honorary treasurer of the Education Cooperative Society of Kandy. There were no auditors. Every evening I used to accompany him there to check bill duplicates,” he adds as we wonder whether this made his life easier when he was the holder of the purse of Sri Lanka as Finance Minister not so long ago. “That was the best run co-op in the country.”
Holidays were fun times for the Amunugama family, with trips to various parts of the country like Sigiriya, except for one distressing but inevitable factor every three months.

Their parents whisked them off to the doctor for a thorough check and “it was time to take worm treatment and also cod liver oil”, Sujatha shudders.
Dr. Amunugama recalls how their father bought a house down Trincomalee Street in Kandy, as the children were schooling there, though they were living first in Medawala and then Nugawela. “He had two elephants and when they were brought for the Kandy perahera, they used to stop by our house and we fed them sugar-cane. When they fell ill, Appochchi was distraught and got the best vet help for them. He was worried because his investment would have collapsed.”

Even after the children left home, it has always been open house. Anyone, the farmers who worked their paddyfields, the students who have passed through their hands, their relatives and in more recent times the supporters and seekers of help from their son and grandson involved in politics, has been welcome in their home. Realizing that their home was to be the gathering point, Mr. Amunugama himself had supervised and got a hall built for such meetings.

“When I got into politics, most people did not know me as Sarath, only as so-and-so’s son. I had a readymade group of followers because my parents were liked and respected by all those in the area,” Minister Amunugama says humbly. “They were my greatest asset when I launched my political career.”
Adds Dilum, the son of Major-General Asoka Amunugama and youngest provincial councillor in the country: “They are more into politics than most people. I lived with them for many years, when my parents were not in Kandy and realized that they are very modern in their thinking.”

Minister Amunugama reminisces how after he had switched parties, from the UNP to the UPFA, when they were walking home after voting, someone had asked the patriarch whom he voted for. Without batting an eyelid, his reply had been: “Api nam hemadama aliyata ne.” (We have always been for the elephant.)

Old Mr. Amunugama’s sense of humour and fun comes to the fore when we ask the couple, “Which child do you love most?” While Mrs. Amunugama refrains from answering and daughter Sujatha quips, “Aiya, the eldest of course”, Appochchi Amunugama whispers, “Let all these ceremonies finish and then I will say it loud and clear. If I say it now, everything will be disrupted.”

Does Soma Amunugama feel a hundred? With tears in her eyes, she looks around at her kith and kin, and shakes her head: “I don’t feel that old, only about 60. I feel young because I have my children around me.” “They must be the No. 1 pensioners in Sri Lanka,” says Dr. Amunugama. “Ironically, I’m the Minister for pensions and it is unique that their period of pension is more than their period of service.”

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