Remembering an April half a century ago

The month of April 1971. Fifty three years ago. Never to be forgotten by the older of us. Ceylon that year was embroiled in anarchy and the country was on the brink of being taken over by insurgents. We were still known as Ceylon then since the name change to Sri Lankan was in 1972.

1971 JVP Insurrection

I need not detail or even refer to most of what happened in 1970 and 71. ‘Kill’ was the operative word; youth to the forefront; rivers turned red with human blood; smoking tyres with bodies inside fouled the air and dread, dread an utter uncertainty prevailed. Names in the forefront on the government side were Srimavo Bandaranaike, PM; Felix Dias Bandaranaike, Minister of Justice; Sepala Attyglle, Army Commander; SA ‘Jungle’ Dissanayake, former IGP brought back as Addl. Secretary to the Ministry of External Affairs and Defense. The top person in the JVP was of course Rohana Wijeweera, with Wijesena Vidanage, Somawanse Amarasinghe and a couple of others his next tier leaders.

The Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna’s ruse to transfer messages to its cadres distributed almost all over Ceylon was unique – fictitious obituary notices printed in newspapers and announced over Radio Ceylon, indicating times of meetings, more importantly attacking police stations, and which. Four missions were planned and assigned to the nationwide 5 April attack, main responsibility devolving on the Student Wing called the ‘Red Guard.’ Targets were: the Panagoda Army Cantonment, RCyAF Katunayake, abduction of the PM, capture of the city of Colombo, Welikada Prison, Radio Ceylon, Sravasti and burning of houses of govt VVIPs. Also, attack of police stations to obtain arms and ammunition.

Unfortunately for the JVP and with destiny’s blessings for the country and its people, the Wellawaya police station was attacked prematurely, the JVP leader there mixing directions. Thus began the apprehension of insurgents from all over and mass killings. The PM had to give the order – KILL – but the police rounded up innocent youth and thus the rivers red with blood and bodies strewn all over. Several countries came to Ceylon’s aid. The insurgency was crushed but damage caused was immense. The JVP was proscribed; many of its leaders apprehended until Prez JRJ in 1977 released Wijeweera from his Jaffna prison. They regrouped to rise in revolt and create worse disaster in the late 1980s.

Personal narrative

Detailed accounts of the 1971 insurgency, the JVP, the then government are available aplenty on Internet and in print form. Memories of those who lived through those years as adults are fresh still, indelibly inscribed in their minds, facts pertaining to the nation and individually to each of them,. I am haunted even now, 53 years later, by my clearly etched remembrances of the disaster faced by the nation and even more so by my personal suffering as a mother.

The Avurudhu season was beginning when the JVP were stymied in their huge undertaking of taking over the rule of the land. Stocks of essentials were low in homes and difficult to come by. Queues had to be positioned in to get the bare needs of rice, dhal, milk powder et al. My husband and I were in separate queues when our cook/ child minder came hurriedly to say our son had developed patches on his skin. He had developed a temperature the previous day and because of curfew at 3.00 pm and general uncertainty, we had seen our GP, Dr TDD Perera, who said it was flu. We hurried home to find the 11-year old with a high temperature. A fourth year medical student in the neighbourhood diagnosed it as meningitis and recommended his removal to the Lady Ridgeway Hospital. The patches were capillary bleeding. We phoned Dr Perera, who booked us a room at Sulaiman’s Nursing Home in Grandpass, promising the best medical care; which proved to be true.

And thus my staying a full three weeks from April 10 with my son in hospital with not even a visit home; completely separated from what was going on outside and barely hearing the news of the country. Dr Stella de Silva came immediately we settled the sick child in the nursing home. I must note here that I never dilly dally when illness is the issue, but in this case everything was done in double quick time which was essential and a godsend in this particular illness. He had a severe headache the first night but not one moan or groan. The deep anxiety and searing emotional suffering were soon lessened because my son responded well to treatment given. We soon settled down to hospital routines, me cut away from the unrest and urgency outside, except experiencing it with visits of doctors and husband and relatives.

Doctors

Dr Stella de Silva, that marvelous and totally dedicated pediatrician, used to visit twice at the beginning and then reduced her visits to once in the afternoon and that at around 2.15 pm. She’d make herself comfortable on my son’s bed and play soldiers with him and comment on his drawings of the day. I palpitated as the minute hand got closer to 12. I intruded by saying curfew time was drawing close. Her reply: “But I must get this child well.”

The army officers on duty were very severe in having the public observe curfew times. One story that went around was handsome neurologist specialist being challenged as he drove just after 3.00 pm. Ordered to get out of his car and raise both arms, he was asked to identify himself. He did with the answer “neurosurgeon.” Raised was the army officer’s gun to shoot because his limited English twisted the answer to insurgent. Mercifully his finger on the trigger hesitated!

A young medical officer wore miniskirts but retained dress decorum with her below the knees white coat. She was met outside the hospital minus her doctor’s coat and had trouble lifting both arms when ordered to. One was tugging down her skirt. The two soldiers desiring seeing more, shouted: both arms up.

Three women doctors were house officers at Sulaiman’s. One was Dr de Zoysa who I later came to know was Richard’s mother – that brilliant actor on stage, writer, activist and super human being who was abducted and murdered and dumped in the sea on February 18, 1990 to be lost forever. But his body washed ashore at Lunawa and thence his mother, Dr Manorani Saravanamuttu’s work with distressed women.

Manorani asked me to accompany her to visit a seriously ill patient one morning. I was naturally reluctant but she insisted. I went with her to a room and there was the bed laden with Indian saris – a magnified kaleidoscope spread out.

Another house officer, Zaiboon, was an ex-classmate of mine driving her white Benz and absolutely glamorous. She’d change her hairstyle daily. I commented. “Oh they are wigs. I lost my hair after a recent attack of typhoid.” Stunned, I was rudely brought back to the reality of life.

Much was going on outside my temporary haven, a haven now with my son much better. Could we take him home, my husband asked after 15 days. Dr Stella asked whether it was economics. No, we replied. “Why give ladders to prancing monkeys?” she asked in its Sinhala translation. We understood she meant the best for the recovered child was a longer period of convalescence within hospital discipline.

Those three weeks I thought of myself as a pebble, buffeted by worry but now assured of my son recovering and me lying quietly as the river of life beside me flowed smooth in the routine of the hospital. I hardly heard the thunder of the outside white waters as armed forces’ trucks sped around; soldiers and police swarmed all over and yet the smoking tyres, the red water of rivers, fear and searing wails of mothers losing their teenagers to a cause they could not comprehend.

1971 and 1989

The JVP reared its bloody head and rose even more viciously to drown the island in chaos, murder, torture and fear, around 18 years after its first failed insurrection. Everyone was affected. In the earlier uprising the people themselves were not involved unless of course family members were in the movement or as teenagers, caught and killed by police and armed forces.

The second uprising had hastily scribbled notes of warning sending shops and businesses closing; patients with attached tubes leaving hospitals and general mayhem. Schools and universities closed; teenagers needed protection from JVP conscription; burning and destruction all over; restrictions like no lights, no watching TV and forced entry to homes in search of guns. FEAR ruled the centre and south of the island while the north was held captive by the LTTE.

Ranjan Wijeratne was appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs and State Minister of Defence by President Premadasa and he, aided by commanders of the three forces and police, brought the parlous situation under control. Rohana Wijeweera was caught; he ratted on the second tier of command in the JVP; and was executed in Kanatta, Borella. The backbone of the violent JVP was broken asunder.