The first rung of my career

by Sumi Moonesinghe narrated to Savithri Rodrigo

It was much later that I learned I missed a first class by just one mark. But it didn’t matter. I now had my engineering degree and was ready to take on the world.

For one year, I worked at the university as an instructor. This was not a lecturer position but involved helping others conduct experiments in the lab. I moved to Ramanathan Hall because I was no longer a student and there became great friends with the Warden of the Hall, Vajira Cooke.

I also took charge of my sister Roni’s education at the time because I was now earning a monthly salary as an instructor. My parents had done so much for us that I really wanted to lighten their load. I was very conscious of the sacrifices they had made throughout my time at school and university. This sense of responsibility made me aware that I must become self-sufficient and during university, I never once asked them to fund anything, not even textbooks. I would go to the library and use the books there for reference. It was not easy but I managed.

My next job was as a Telecom Engineer at the Dickman’s Road Switching Centre. The telecommunication industry in Sri Lanka was in its fledgling years, having commenced in 1958 when the first telegraphic circuit between Colombo and Galle was launched. Coming under the Department of Telecommunications, this may have been a dream job for many, but not for me. It was utterly boring and I hated it.

My sights were set on broadcast engineering as communications engineering was fascinating. Sri Lanka only had radio at the time; television hadn’t been introduced and mobile phones were unheard of. The only phones were the landlines and I didn’t find those exciting.

Never to be deterred, I kept applying and finally got what I wanted – a transfer to Radio Ceylon, the oldest radio station in South Asia and second oldest in the world. This was a station that enjoyed the title of ‘King of the Airwaves’ with millions tuning into radio broadcasts from around the world, playing a seminal role in the advent of broadcasting alongside Great Britain, the USA and Germany. And this is where I wanted to be.

The Chairman of the Ceylon Broadcasting Corporation and Director General of Broadcasting was Neville Jayaweera, a smart, impeccably-dressed man who had an excellent command of the English language. A member of the prestigious Ceylon Civil Service, it was Neville who was handpicked by Prime Minister Dudley Senanayake at the time to head the Ceylon Broadcasting Corporation, and drafted the pioneering legislation for setting up the CBC and the subsequent name change of Radio Ceylon to Ceylon Broadcasting Corporation in 1967.

It was in this pivotal year, when I turned 22 that I began working at CBC as an Engineer in Charge of the Studios and Training School reporting to Chief Engineer David Buell, a very soft-spoken, quiet gentleman. My salary was a princely Rs. 720, which was plenty in those times.

Neville would often mention that I had potential to study further and venture into more training. Armed with only my BSc in Engineering, working alongside others who were more qualified and experienced, he nevertheless, seemed to think I was doing a good job, far in excess of the academic knowledge I had gained. He called me into his office one day and said, “Miss Senanayake, there is a scholarship to go to England to do a Masters, followed by training at the BBC. I will be nominating you.”

I think my jaw dropped in surprise and my heart did a little flutter, but I retained my composure. Tongue-tied for once, all I could say was, “Thank you, Sir,” ever grateful that he had given me this opportunity because I was still a rookie in the ranks. The only blot in the plan – I had to leave by the end of the month.

This sudden turn in my life was predicted earlier although I didn’t take the prediction seriously. When I was visiting my parents earlier that month, we came across a soothsayer in the Kegalle town. She looked at me pointedly and said, “You will be going abroad by the end of the month.” In the 1960s, going overseas was a luxury as it was just too expensive and only a privileged few could afford it. I remember thinking the woman was crazy and brushed her off. These weren’t times people could simply get on a plane and take off.

While I had been quite adamant not to get distracted from my studies with any serious romances while at university, in my final year, that principle was quickly put to the test. I had developed strong feelings for a young man who was working at the State Engineering Corporation. We would meet whenever I came to Colombo, occasionally going to the cinema. He was not a Sinhalese and given Sri Lanka’s ethnic divide running deep, in my heart I knew the relationship may not be looked upon kindly, especially by my parents. Thus it was kept under wraps except for a few friends who were in on the secret.

I broke the news to my boyfriend about the scholarship and he in turn had good news. He had been conferred a Fulbright scholarship to go to America.

When I moved to Colombo from Peradeniya, I was staying with Loretta Gunaratne at Sulaiman Terrace, Colombo 5. With my impending trip to the UK, Loretta took charge of getting things ready for my departure.

As I mentioned, few people were fortunate to travel and more so to countries like the UK and the USA which were considered the creme de la creme where streets were believed to be paved with gold. For those around me, I was now among the privileged few. London was definitely paradise in waiting. There were also some unwritten rules; don’t squander your money buying unnecessary things, take everything you will need from Sri Lanka and save all that money to bring a car from England when you return. The only path to money was in this car, which would fetch a tidy sum in Ceylon. And the car of choice was the Peugeot 504.

So there we were — Loretta and I, packing everything from soap to toiletries, linen and underwear, so I wouldn’t have to buy anything in ‘expensive’ London and could save up my money to return with the car.

My parents arrived the day before I was to leave to bid me goodbye. That night, we dropped in to bid farewell to Neville Jayaweera who was surely an architect of my dreams. My good friend Asoki Gunewardene, who had found Loretta’s home for me to stay in, accompanied my parents and me to Neville’s home. My parents had also met my ‘boyfriend’ although they didn’t know that at the time. I simply introduced him as a friend. This was nothing new to them as I always had lots of male friends during my university years and they were used to seeing me in their company.

After visiting Neville, Asoki who was in the car with us and obviously couldn’t keep a secret, blurted, “That boy with the beard is her boyfriend!” Needless to mention, I was livid with her. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence.

My parents returned to Kegalle and I took my flight to London the next day. Several of my batchmates, boys of course, came to see me off that morning and some even accompanied me to the airport. I remember tears streaming down my face when I left because I was leaving both my boyfriend and my family behind. I was missing them already.

I had never left Sri Lanka before this, let alone been on a plane. Everything was very new to me, but it also brought a shark reminder that I was now very much on my own, far away from everyone I knew and everything I was familiar with. The pensive feeling remained with me throughout the flight and when the BOAC flight transited in Rome, I had to make a connection with Sri Lanka to shake off some of my blues. The first object I set my eyes on was a large doll at the duty free shop. I purchased it and gave it to the air hostess on the flight to give it to my niece Chinthi when she returned to Colombo.

In the meantime, there may have been silence in the car on the way back from Neville’s and nothing may have been said by my parents about Asoki’s revelation when they bid me goodbye, but the boyfriend matter was not to be swept under the carpet. The first letter I received from my father after I arrived in England stated: If you are thinking of marrying anyone other than a Sinhala Buddhist, then you better stay there. Don’t come back here.

(To be continued)

(Excerpted from Sumi Moonesinghe’s Memoirs)