Wevas, large and small

The Dry Zone is my favourite place in Sri Lanka and, I dare add, in the whole wide world. The coasts with the restless or restful sea dashing or serenely washing the sands; the cool of the central hills with their brilliant greens and splashes of colour; even the yellow sands dotted by tall palmyrah palms cannot beat the bright sparkle of early morning in the Dry Zone nor the soft, faintly purple dusk followed by the brilliance of masses of pinpoints of light in the darkening sky; soon to be followed by a huge moon shedding silver. It’s an entirely different air one breathes, and if in one of the ancient cities, or in sight of the rising dagobas and spreading bo trees, the spirit is uplifted and one feels proud to be Sri Lankan.

Of these favourite places, I most love to be near are the wewas – some of them minor seas, others whose boundaries can be discerned and a few which are no more than large ponds, covered with lotus. It is exhilarating to drive or walk along a wewa bund. Just as the wide expanse of softy waved water fascinates, so does the luscious green vegetation on the other side.

I know how, where, when and by whom this love for wewas was bred in me: around age 10 when the brother just older than me and I holidayed with my eldest brother – the Divisional Revenue Officer of Demala Hath Pattu, a Kandyan District. He lived and had his office in Anamaduwa. There was a large wewa on one edge of the very small township of a couple of ‘kades’ and a kerosene shed. We never bathed there; too public, So it was a trudge in the evenings through forest to a small, dark wewa. The initial tentative steps in the water were tremulous and fearful since no bottom was seen. But with two brothers and one strong Haramanis to rush to the rescue, I was soon completely aquatic.

This bathing wewa among the trees and bushes must have been a ‘huluwewa’ or ‘kuluwewa’. I came across the name in a recent newspaper article, but I did not note the name, hence the doubt about it. These small reservoirs tucked in the forests were constructed in ancient times for the use of man and beast thanks to the consideration of our ancient kings for remote villagers and animals of the jungle, while also constructing marvels of irrigation technology.

Input from history

Sir Henry Parker, English engineer who worked in Ceylon in the mid 19th century when the British ruled us, studied the wewas and the marvels of our ancient irrigation system, leaving us much know-how. He said as one whose duties permitted him to gain an intimate acquaintance with the ancient works: “I have never concealed my admiration of the engineering knowledge of the designers of the great irrigation schemes of Ceylon and the skills with which they constructed the works.”

According to him the origin of the wewa was in the Euphrates civilization from where it came to India and then to Ceylon with the Aryans. This is also supposedly in line with the writings of the Mahawamsa. However he commends as a special feat the construction genius of the Sinhalese in the formation of all reservoirs with embankments much higher than those of simple village tanks; great earthen bunds, often some miles in length across many valleys thus intercepting the flow of streams and storing water during the rainy seasons, forming immense sheets of water in reservoirs.

Most of our great kings and leaders (D S Senanayake) are remembered for the gifts of wewas constructed in their day and under their patronage comparable to the patronage they gave Buddhism. “It was the wewa that sustained cultivation which produced enough food for everyone and a healthy population. Some kings have been deified for building wewas, and legend has it that the spirits of others still protect the wewas and anicuts they caused to be built. However it is sad that the wewa civilization degenerated with the foreign conquests and abandonment of the ancient kingdoms.”

There was talk of the revival of ancient wewas but that was not to be. Rather we recently saw the utter sacrilege (I call it this) of some crazy persons constructing jogging paths along the most venerated and largest of ancient wewas – the Polonnaruwa Parakrama Samudra (12th Century), Kala Wewa near Anuradhapua built by King Datusena in 307 BC; the scene of Kassyapa’s crime of patricide. Perhaps the Kantalai Wewa was also targetted by these vandals who definitely endanger the earth bunds with their bulldozers. The bunds as they are can very well serve as jogging paths – so few vehicles use them, even the roads of the ancient cities. So why construct jogging paths?

Wewa and dagaba

Kings who got wewas constructed, paying workmen in cash or kind (unlike pyramid building) always built a temple with dagoba close by or on the wewa bund itself. This may have been to propitiate spirits of devathavas whose territory was intruded upon. And for the protection of the wewa itself. A historian I consulted conveyed interesting information, which he had gathered from a research paper of one of his students. He said that the larger wewas were constructed and definite areas earmarked and separated (perhaps by underwater piles of small rocks or whatever) so that no contamination occurred to the water for temple use – no intrusion was permitted to this demarcated area. Next, parts were set aside for villagers’ use and here again separated for drinking and bathing and washing of clothes. Animals, the elephant particularly and farm cattle, were catered to in an entirely different section of the wewa. To enforce this separation and guard the wewa, a man was appointed by the king, residing in the temple or within its premises.

A tale of mystery founded

on a necessity

The most interesting facet was that once a very handsome worker was in a wewa construction team. Women of the village were fascinated, nay hypnotized by him, according to the tale. He was thus named Kalu Kumaraya. (May have been a darky Romeo! Sinhalese of course but dark skinned). When he died or migrated to build another wewa, his spirit was said to haunt the wewa bund. A convenient tall tale grabbed at because of the belief that women are unclean during their monthly periods and so the discomfort and consternation caused by supposing they came to the wewa of an evening to wash soiled clothes. (No disposables then!!). To prevent such, the warning floated around that Kalu Kumaraya’s ghost roamed around at evening beside wewas to capture women he fancied. No details given, none from the historian or his student as to what the consequent fate of the captured was – death or a happy living ever after.

Well, the name of the night ghost continued and I have heard it along with Mohini, a lovely lithesome lass who persistently visits young handsome men who live alone. Maybe another pragmatic myth to discourage bachelorhood and promote marriage!

Personal fascination

My fascination with wewas will never dim though travel is much restricted now and age catches up. Remembered are family picnic lunches on wewa bunds and once napping on a mat with strong Tissa Wewa winds blowing, to get up enervated. A special happening is sitting on the Nuwara Wewa bund near the old rest thouse, now extended and refurbished, to gaze at the distant Mihintale dagoba, soaking in the ambience of sanctity and complete peace. Clearly recalled is an evening bath with husband and son at the edge of the Senanayake Samudra with elephants close on the opposite side. Very recently staying over with six nieces and nephews at the old rest house now named The Lake House, with its dining area jutting into the Parakrama Samudra.

I end with the oft quoted words of wisdom attributed to Parakrama Bahu the Great (1123-1186). “Let not even a drop of water that comes from the rain flow into the ocean without being made useful to man.”

More current from French naval officer, ocean explorer and co-inventor of the Aqua Lung – Jacques-Yves Cousteau: “We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one.”