Remembering July ’83
by K. Arvind
“We have been wounded, but we have been healed. It is possible even with our past of suffering, anguish, alienation and violence, we can become one people again – reconciled, healed, caring, compassionate and ready to share – as we put our past behind us to stride into the glorious future.”– Bishop Desmond Tutu
It is 23 years to the day since the lives of tens of thousands of Tamils were suddenly shattered. Many physically, and perhaps, just as many, emotionally. It was a time, in Biblical terms, “when brother turned against brother.”
["Give peace a chance" - holiday makers on Galle Face Green, December 31, 2005]
Much water has flown down the river since then and the country has been dragged into a bottomless abyss by ‘dogs of war’ – as someone chose to describe those ‘patriots’ who roamed the lawless streets with their swords, knives and ‘polu in those dark days of July ’83, in various parts of Southern Sri Lanka.
[Sri Lankans prayed for peace on the new year's eve, Dec 31 2005. This is a street hoarding in Kolpetty, Colombo 3]
Many of the direct victims remain, though deformed in different ways; and still many have left the country for safety and in search of livelihoods. They have now become, involuntarily, part of that new breed – ‘the diaspora’. Those who remain are trying and re-trying to build what is left of their shattered lives, which successive governments have so far failed to make meaningful. In as much as it is difficult to forget those emotionally devastating days 23 of years ago, it is also a time when many Sinhala friends amongst whom we lived displayed the finest quality in the human spirit, which Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan was to describe “as that spark of divinity amongst men,” that manifests in trying times.
Seeing others turn to beasts and predators for no rhyme or reason, they took under their protective wings their Tamil friends who were totally helpless to effectively engage the state-encouraged danger that was to show up so suddenly and with such ferocity. I recall my friends Ranjith and Sandra who drove to save us, once the news of the attacks on our house and property reached them. In the many days we were with them, they showered great affection on us and went out of the way to ensure that my wife, who was totally overwhelmed by the disaster that had befallen our young family did not ‘break down’. The protection they gave us in their spacious home was done at much risk to themselves, surrounded as they were in a predominately Sinhala neighbourhood.
Ranji and Sarath spent two days to track us down, knocking at many doors in many areas where they thought we would have sought sanctuary. Dennis and Badra drove all the way from Kotte that day when the streets were the theatre of danger in many ways to ordinary motorists, to Talangama to fetch my sister and brother-in-law whose new bungalow and valuables were consigned to flames. The riff-raff there considered themselves compassionate and declared they are sparing the lives of my sister and her husband but said that booty was theirs.
When things in the days following looked bleak and I decided to send my wife and two children – aged 11 and 7 – to Europe for safety with immediate relatives; friends and relatives in London of my Sinhala friends here were asked to visit my family and comfort them. They opened their doors and hearts to us.
As months passed and my family relocated to Madras for the children’s schooling and to be closer to me, many of our Sinhala friends from Colombo visited them regularly and at much expense, bringing sweets, food, ‘achcharu’ and gifts from ‘home’.
These meetings were tear-filled as friends hugged and cried for what we went through. When a semblance of peace returned to Sri Lanka and my family would return for a few weeks stay, our Sinhala friends would go out of the way to make us feel at home. In many of these homes where we were guests, either for lunch or dinner, the word was out that no mention of the “trouble” we went through should come into the discussions. That was the degree of consideration that was shown.
No doubt July ’83 turned many men into beasts in many parts of the country but at the same time, it also saw the manifestation of the finest quality of the human spirit amongst us. As it eventually turned out, it was not only the Tamils that were ‘torched’ that day.
The sinister forces that engineered that pogrom only succeeded in injuring every man and woman in every community in all parts of the country – a wound which still is to heal. My Sinhala friends, some of whose names I have mentioned here and many which I have not, will always remain part of us – as we have been over many years fortunate to be part of them. I know there are many Tamils whose story and feelings coincide with ours. [Island]
Photos Courtesy of HumanityAshore.org
