I refer to the article in the Sunday Times of November 24, on page 10, under the headline "No justice for Lanka's first lady judge". and place the following facts.
My sister the late Sudharma Dharmadasa was
1. the first lady on the bench in Sri Lanka when she was appointed rural court judge in the early 1960s.
2. She was subsequently appointed Juvenile Court Magistrate at Bambalapitiya in 1973 or 1974 which post she held until her untimely death on March 27 1976.
Note: The story referred to the first lady Magistrate and District Judge.
"We must be the change we wish to see in our land" proclaimed the T-shirts sported by the young people in the foyer of the Lionel Wendt Theatre just before Kisara Yatiyawala's play "Those who sow the wind" went on the boards recently. The quote on the T-shirts is a slight adaptation of one by Mahatma Gandhi.
The production was assisted by Jith Peiris and staged by the Young Adults Fellowship of the Kollupitiya Methodist Church.
This repeat performance was fittingly sponsored by the National Peace Council.
The play, which is set in contemporary war-torn Sri Lanka, has many themes and nuances. Loku Thaththa has just been offered the Chairmanship of the Dialogue Council, which is seeking a Peace Treaty between the opposing factions.
However, the action itself is set in his (Sinhala) home and surroundings, where he has to deal with the racial prejudices of his wife, the boredom of his daughter (who is having a crush on his Tamil neighbour's eligible son) and the presence of a poor family on a part of his prime land (a part gifted to that family by his grandfather). On top of this, his ears are regularly subjected to the conscience-pricking observations of his nephew, who is mentally retarded, but only to the extent of not having "progressed" into adulthood beyond the candour of childhood.
The play thus exposes the falsehood of a dichotomy between a "tolerant" public face and a prejudiced private one. It also brings home the message, reinforced by the one on the T-shirts, that we as individuals must play a part in the peace process. Peace, and governance itself for that matter, are matters too important to be left to politicians alone, although that is precisely what appears to be happening in Sri Lanka today.
It is the politicians who are fighting the Tigers, discussing the "package" or even trying to rebuild the Jaffna Public Library.
One of the reasons we leave everything to the "authorities" is the feeling of impotence we have - "What can we do?" - a sentiment actually aired by two of the young characters in the play as well.
I would like to submit that there are many things that individuals can do in the quest for peace; things that no government can do. This is because peace is essentially a community characteristic that has to be developed among individuals, as opposed to being negotiated or legislated by the "authorities".
Let me give some examples of things we can do as individuals. Tamils coming in to Colombo from the difficult situations in the North and East find it very difficult to rent annexes. Very few Sinhala landlords will take the risk of having such tenants. And risk it is.
One of my own friends unknowingly rented a room in his house to the terrorist who later killed Mr. Amirthalingam. Even if such risks are not that common, there will always be the house searches by the security forces. The forces cannot be blamed; in the context of security threats such searches have to be made.
But all my Tamil friends who have in fact been given lodging in Sinhala households and annexes despite the above inconveniences and risks, are extremely grateful to their hosts.
In addition of course, the seeds of peace between the communities have been sown. Peace therefore will come only with risk, inconvenience and hardship. As the old man in the poor family says in the play, "Peace cannot be negotiated; it has to be earned".
How about the Tamils living in Colombo. What can they do to promote community? One of the things they could do is to visit disabled soldiers, instead of such visits being made largely if not solely by the Sinhalese.
Think of the impact that this would make for promoting peace.
These examples are not being held out as mandatory exercises. We all have our own backgrounds, capabilities and tendencies.
However, if we say with our lips that we want peace, all I am saying is that we cannot leave it to politicians alone. We are all members of the body politic.
And as I think I've demonstrated, there are many things we can do towards fostering peace that cannot be done at an institutional level.
One of the most powerful plots in the play is how Loku Thaththa's (Sinhala) neighbour, Uncle Clifford, acting as broker, sells part of Loku Thaththa's land together with that of his Tamil neighbour to a company.
In the process however, the poor family (which includes a severely handicapped daughter) have to be evicted from Loku Thaththa's land.
The message is very clear. "Partnerships" (which Uncle Clifford drinks to when the papers are being signed) are very easily made between Sinhalese and Tamils when it suits their economic or class interests, and such partnerships often marginalise the poor.
This is a lesson we cannot forget while our attention is riveted to the "ethnic" crisis. If there is ever a lesson we have to learn from the eighties, it is that we had two crises - the "ethnic" one of 1983 and beyond, and the "economic" one of 1987-89. It was particularly heartening to see this latter issue highlighted in a play staged by a Christian group of people; because the Church in this land has probably done a few things to promote inter-ethnic harmony, but very little to bridge the gulf between the urban rich and rural poor.
Even when such poor struggle to educate themselves with University degrees, they are shut out of the elitist private sector for want of English or even lack of a correct accent. Those of us who serve on selection panels and interview boards would do well, (once again a chance to act as individuals!), to give a chance to the rural poor.
I am not saying that we should promote mediocrity, but that we should look beyond exterior appearance and class interest so that we provide "equal opportunities".
The Northern war itself has highlighted the distinctions between rich and poor. It is the poor on both sides who are killed on the battlefields.
The Sinhala rich and middle classes are either enjoying or trying to cope with the open economy in Colombo.
The Tamil rich and middle classes are further afield - in the worldÕs major city centres, which are probably now their true "homelands" (as vividly depicted at the end of the play where the Tamil neighbour "escapes" from the whirlwind of terror into his flight to London).
Such migration, no doubt in the aftermath of the horrors of 1983, has served to deplete the ranks of Tamil moderates in this country, making the peace process more difficult.
One final cameo from the play. When the Tamil neighbour asks the poor old man whether his severely handicapped daughter has improved, he says "No, but we have improved" (i.e. by living through that difficult situation and caring for an innocent). We too have had many difficulties in our land; difficulties that have also created many innocents.
Most of us feel that "the situation" has not improved. The question is, have we?
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