Garuwa tells us how he lost his arm to a bear and more tales from Kumana

(Continued from last week)

by Walter R. Gooneratne

Now it was story-time. Unlike the garrulous Wasthua, Garuwa was a quiet and retiring person and a man of few words. However, under the influence of that extra quota of alcohol, his tongue loosened up and he related his adventure with the bear which ultimately ended with the amputation of his left arm.

One evening, while returning from the tank, a she bear had joined the track about a hundred yards ahead of him. Since the bear was up-wind of him, he did not bother very much as he knew the animal would leave the track sooner or later. Anyway, he was sufficiently in the lead to take evasive action should it decide to turn back. He had met many a bear before and had not much respect for its sagacity or intelligence. Suddenly, there was a loud growl behind him, when a huge male bear standing on its hind legs charged into him with mouth open and fangs bared. He had put up his forearm to defend his face and yelled at it as loud as he could. However, this had very little effect, for the bear had bitten his forearm. He remembered with a shudder the awful stench of its breath.

The bear had probably spotted the female which was in heat, and he had followed her scent. Perhaps he mistook Garuwa for a rival and attacked him, but when he realized his mistake he had left him alone and gone after his lover. Garuwa was now bleeding profusely. He had taken off his shirt and bandaged his injured forearm with it. By the time he reached the main track to the village, he had felt quite dizzy with the loss of blood and the throbbing pain, which made him sit down.

Fortunately, some people were returning to the village from Yakala Kalapuwa and they carried him home. He was delirious and semi-conscious throughout the night and was not aware of the damage to his arm. The next morning, his friends had made an improvised stretcher and carried him to Panama, from where he was transferred to the Batticaloa Hospital, where his arm was amputated. That part of the journey had been plain hell, specially the bumpy ride.

Early next morning we broke camp, and having rewarded our new-found friends, bade them adieu. While returning to Kandy, I was driving most of the day, and therefore shortly after passing Polonnaruwa, Ivor offered to take the wheel. Then a short while later, Ivor had dozed off and in consequence the jeep ran off the road. Fortunately, it was flat open country and Ivor managed to stop it in time. The ladies insisted that I drive the rest of the way. We landed in Kandy late at night without further incident.

Kumana again and again

Since then I have been to Kumana seven times more. As it would be too long to describe all of these journeys in detail, I shall describe only the highlights of each.

On the next trip our party consisted of Dr H R Wickremesinghe, Mr. and Mrs.Simon Gunewardene, my wife, Nirmalene and myself. We left Ragama (where I was stationed then) at 3 am in Simon’s jeep and reached the office of the Wildlife Department at Okanda at about 2 pm. There, for the first time I saw the neat cup-shaped nest of the fantailed flycatcher. Our old faithfuls, Garuwa and Wasthuwa were waiting for us and we did not waste any time, but drove on to the Kumbukan Oya camp-site.

It was dry season and the river was low. A lone elephant was quenching his thirst at this spot, but fortunately ran away at our approach. Late that night another elephant had come to drink, and being disturbed by our campfire, had created quite a rumpus, but had moved away due to Wasthua’s charms, as he claimed. Having driven the whole day, I was dead to the world and had slept through all the noise.

Leopard pugmarks were everywhere. That evening Simon shot a spotted deer stag near Yakala Kalapuwa. The two hind limbs were cut off and loaded into the jeep for our consumption. and the rest of the carcass was dragged to the spot where Ivor shot his leopard. It was tethered there as leopard bait. That evening. the leopard came to the bait and was shot by Simon. When I saw what we had done to such a graceful and beautiful creation of nature, just to bolster man’s pride, I decided never to shoot a leopard again.

The highlight of the trip took place that afternoon. We decided to have our evening bath at Galamuna, higher up the river. Here the water cascading down the mini-rapid was most soothing and relaxing. A short while later, a lone cow elephant came silently out of the jungle, just about twenty yards above where we were. She stood there for a while, testing the air for signs of danger, and as if by an invisible signal that all was well, a herd of elephants trooped down to the river. There were eighteen of them of various sizes and ages. All of them were females, except for two young males.

There were two little babies, one of which could not have been more than two or three years of age. The old matriarch, who first came to the river, was apparently its mother, as she nestled it between her legs and walked down to the river. Garuwa assured us that as we were downwind of them. there was no danger as long as we stayed quiet and did not move about too much. It was such a heartwarming and wonderful sight. The creatures soon lay down in the cool, rushing water and showered themselves with fountains of water, while the babies frolicked about under the watchful eye of their mothers and aunts.

Suddenly two of the teenagers decided to play “catch me if you can” and one of them made a dash in our direction, hotly pursued by her playmate. However, much to our relief, they soon wheeled around and dashed away in the opposite direction. Having had enough, they entwined their trunks, whispered a few sweet nothings in each other’s ears and again settled down to the mundane business of cleansing themselves. After about twenty minutes, the matriarch stood up, scented the wind and slowly re-entered the jungle, followed by the rest of the herd.

Angler’s dream

The next visit was about a year later in the company of Dr. Mackie Ratwatte, Dr. Anian Perera and his nephew, who later became a Catholic priest. Game Ranger Peter Jayawardene accompanied us as our guest in camp.

This trip was an angler’s dream. Peter being a keen and expert angler, we decided to go fishing in the estuary of Kumbukkan Oya. Peter made his own lures. It was mainly because he could not afford to buy commercial ones, but pretended his were superior. He was soon proved to be correct. Peter produced a handcrafted lure painted in red and white, which he called the” Red devil”.

Anian had no experience of angling, and when he saw our equipment, he laughed at us saying that we would be sadly mistaken if we thought fish would fall for our artificial lures. Soon he would think otherwise.

The sky was overcast and there was a slight blowing. I cast the “Red devil” and at the second cast had a strike. Anian scornfully said I had snagged a rock. However, the “rock” soon peeled off the line from my reel, an event which soon provoked a paean of delight. At the first pull, the fish had emptied a good part of my well-oiled reel before he stopped for a breather. Soon the line was being stripped off again in brief runs. I dared not put too much break as I was using light line. Expert Peter predicted that I had something very big, and by the initial run, it should be a paraw or travelly. The duel continued for some time with me retrieving some line, interrupted by short bursts of activity by my adversary. Then we saw him framed against a breaker, a huge tholbari paraw swaying his broad shoulders in order to dislodge the lure. After further fights, he came in gamely, being finally carried ashore by a low wave. It was massive and weighed forty four pounds!

Since the fish were still feeding, we continued to cast. With almost every cast we had a strike. The final catch was an eight pound koduwa or estuary perch and seven of kalava or threadfin, each weighing between four and eight pounds.

Anian, who scoffed at us at the beginning, wanted me to allow him a few casts. I warned him that bait-casting needed a lot of skill and practice, but he assured me that having watched me, he knew the technique. I knew that he would end up in a backlash, but to humour him I gave him the rod and reel. Anyway, Peter was an expert at unraveling the toughest backlashes. With the first cast, he ended up with the mother of all backlashes. Even Peter’s expertise was to no avail. Anian was most apologetic.

However, as we had enough fish we called it a day. Back in camp, we had to dismantle the reel to untangle the mess. Garuwa and Wasthua were gifted a kalai each to take to their families. That night we had a delicious curry of the paraw and koduwa heads turned out by Kadisara. The rest of the fish was with Peter’s expertise, either dried or made into jadi, which was a preparation cured with salt. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

Kumana in the rain

The next foray was in 1966. It was a huge party consisting of Simon Gunewardene and wife, my dear friends, Dr. and Mrs Chandra Amerasinghe and their children, Pervey Lawrence, my nephew Mohan Gooneratne, my brother Lionel and my family. There was torrential rain all the way and we were benighted at Lahugala. Fortunately, Peter had been transferred as game ranger there and he managed to find accommodation for us in the village school.

Next morning the road to Kumana was a quagmire. Bagura Ara, the stream that runs across Bagura plains, was in spate and we managed to cross it with some difficulty. Fortunately, Dr. K.G. Jayasekera and his party were camping at Bagura and they lent a hand to get the vehicles across. That night the rain came down again in sheets, accompanied by lightning and thunder. The water came through the camp in roaring torrents. Sleep was impossible. My wife carried the children into our jeep, while most of the others just shivered till dawn, by which time the rain had ceased.

Most of the next day was spent drying up the camp. Fortunately there was no further rain for the rest of our stay. In the evening we went down to the villu for bird watching. We met a large leopard close to the villu, but it took fright and bolted away. That evening, Lyn de Alwis and his party arrived and camped at the site higher up on the banks of Kumbukkan Oya. He very kindly invited us to his camp for cocktails.

Next morning Garuwa suggested that we go to Lenama in search of rathu walasu or red bears. On the way, Wasthua suggested that we inspect a water-hole called Kiri Pokuna, as it was a favourite watering place for many wild animals. The track was narrow, and having alighted from the vehicles, we walked along it in single file. Pervey went ahead with the trackers, while the others trailed behind. Chandra and I brought up the rear. Suddenly there was pandemonium and the whole crowd came running back, followed shortly after by the report from Pervey’s rifle. It transpired that as the crowd approached the bund of the water-hole, a huge wild buffalo had come crashing down over the bund along the path they were on.

At Pervy’s shot (fired into the air), the animal had veered to the left and crashed into the jungle. What probably had happened was that on hearing of our approach, the animal had tried to escape along the path he was familiar with and almost collided with us, but was turned away by the noise of Pervy’s rifle fire. Further progress to Lenama was impossible due to the state of the track after the recent rains.

That evening we went fishing to the estuary of Kumbukan Oya. Dr. Jayasekera and his party were also there, but none of us had any luck, due mainly to the river being in spate. However, we were rewarded with the spectacle of a brilliantly coloured sunset.

Further trips to Kumana

Some time later my cousin Lyn de Alwis very kindly invited me to join him on an expedition to Kumana in order to capture animals for the zoo. The team included some staff of the zoo, as well as Lyn’s brother Gerald, and my son Naomal. We camped again by Kumbukkan Oya, but our old trackers, Garuwa and Wasthua had by that time passed away and we sorely missed them.

It was nesting season in the villu and most of the time was spent capturing viable, but fledgling birds. They were mostly painted stork, spoonbills, openbills, spot-billed pelicans, cormorants and whistling teal. A large number of serpents, including pythons, Russell’s vipers and cobras, was also taken with amazing ease and dexterity by the staff of the zoo.

In the next two visits, we occupied the bungalow, which was on a most beautiful location overlooking a small lake. On the first occasion, we had booked the Okanda bungalow, but the trees around it were alive with numerous hairy caterpillars. However Lyn de Alwis, who was occupying the Thunmulla bungalow, very kindly offered it to us, and decided to camp out on the bank of Kumbukkan Oya.

The highlight of this trip was a furious elephant charge. At the time my wife, after collecting driftwood on the beach for her flower arrangements near Iticala Kalapuwa, had just got into the jeep, when a huge lone elephant made a furious charge from a nearby thicket. My son Romesh, who was at the wheel, was about to start off, but hearing the charge, he had the presence of mind to switch off the engine. The three of us, namely Romesh, the tracker and myself yelled at it in unison. The charge was so determined that I thought he would not be able to stop in time. However, he skidded to a stop within a few feet of us and walked away, grumbling all the while. Had we delayed a few more minutes in switching off the engine, he would have been on us with disastrous results.

However we were rewarded that evening with the sight of a large healthy leopard traversing the road behind the bungalow. It looked contemptuously at us over its shoulder and continued to walk along the track till it was out of sight round the bend of the road. We let it go its way in peace.

The next trip was in 1983, shortly after the riots. Our party consisted of Mr. John Guyer of the Asia Foundation and his wife, Mr. Fred Malvenna, my son Romesh and myself. We left Colombo at midnight in Fred’s jeep and arrived at Pottuvil at early dawn. On this occasion too we occupied the Thummulla bungalow. The villu was completely dry with crazy zigzag cracks on its surface. A lone elephant was in it, knee deep in mud, feeding on the dried up lotus leaves and yams.

In this trip none was interested in hunting, but we made many forays into the jungle to watch and observe animals. Though no leopards were seen, their tracks were everywhere. Several elephants, in singles, twos and threes, were seen. Large herds of spotted deer were a common sight. While bathing in Kumbukkan Oya at Galamuna one morning, we saw two saw-toothed sharks, each about three feet long, cruising in the river above the rocky dam.

On December 27, 2002, we made a trip again to Kumana. It was a large party traveling in four vehicles. To Chris Uragoda and a few of us who had seen Kumana in its heyday, the desolation and destruction were saddening indeed. There were hardly any tracks. Bagura plain was bare and devoid of its once famous herds of deer. Gone were all the life-giving mangroves in the villu, which was a naked sheet of water without a bird to adorn its shining surface. There was evidence of felling of trees at many places. It is imperative that the Department of Wildlife Conservation should take immediate steps to bring it back to its former splendour before it is lost forever.

(Concluded)

(Excerpted from Jungle Journeys in Sri Lanka edited by CG Uragoda)