The passing of ex-hotelier Bertram Francis Cramer, on November 21, 2009, after a brief illness, marks a milestone for Sri Lanka’s Dutch Burgher community. “Uncle” Bert celebrated his 87th birthday on November 12.
I first met “Uncle” Bert in August 1982, with my marriage to Qureisha, whom he affectionately called “Gravy”, and whom he would entertain with his interesting “rogue” stories when she was a child.
We had a close rapport, the two of us, and would discuss at length matters of mutual interest. He had a wide and deep experience of the hospitality business.
More than 50 years ago, in 1966, the Somerville & Company mandarins P.H. Podmore and Steuart Black invited Carlyle Young, fresh from qualifying as a hotelier in Lausanne, Switzerland, to transform the old Hikkaduwa resthouse into the Coral Garden Hotel. Mr. Carlyle was made manager, and he picked the dynamic Bert Cramer, who had had 15 years’ experience at the Galle Face Hotel, to be his assistant manager. At the time, Mr. Carlyle was manager of the Mascarilla Nite Club, and Uncle Bert was supervising the kitchens of the Galle Face Hotel. The Coral Garden Hotel project was a tremendous success, with Mr. Carlyle introducing the 10 per cent service charge.
Apart from the occasional trip to Goa, in India, and a couple of vacations in Australia in the early 2000s, Uncle Bert and Aunt Barbara (Aunt Babs) spent their entire lives in Sri Lanka. A holiday in Abu Dhabi and Oman and exposure to the Arab culture converted Uncle Bert into a teetotaller and non-smoker.
In October 1999, the couple discreetly disposed of most of their assets among their heirs and moved to a place close to Kurunduwatte to supervise an elders’ home, the Dev Siri Sevena, in the Union Church premises in Mahabage. They celebrated their 61st wedding anniversary this year, on January 27.
In the evening of their lives, recognising life’s transitory nature and the fact that at some point we must all let go, Uncle Bert and Aunt Babs had found themselves a snug cottage with a garden filled with flowers and foliage. The time had come for preparing for the next phase, and they wanted to do so in a spirit of prayer and piety.
I distinctly recall, one sunny morning, Uncle Bert driving serenely into our compound in Hendala with granddaughter Zahara: it was a day to remember.
Uncle Bert – tall, fair and with a shock of silver hair – was a hail-fellow, well-met person. He was full of fun and joy in his interaction with others. Their home bubbled with his lively presence, and on the dance floor he was the centre of attention.
I respected and revered Uncle Bert. He was like one of the illustrious knights of Camelot, passing on serenely to Avalon, leaving an indelible impression on all of us.
We were all present at Uncle Bert’s funeral, at the Mattumagala Cemetery: Aunt Babs, daughters Jeanne (Leoni) and Marina from Melbourne, Carryle from Goa, and grandchildren Analia, Avon, Sandrine and Zahara, who gave a poignant speech at the funeral, and my family.
Firoze Sameer |
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