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| Sunday, 22 August 2004 |
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Features |  |
| News Business Features Editorial
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Vanniela aththo... Pining for a lost lifestyle by Vimukthi Fernando and Jayantha Sri Nissanka
It is the pride of the tribe. Four tall and strong buildings, about 30 by 20 each, constructed in the middle of a national park. Two halls erected with wattle and daub, with half walls and a roof covered in iluk. Two more, erected with brick and mortar, tiled roof, and cement floor. They helped in the building, with labour, timber, iluk, wattle and daub and cow dung to smoothen the floors, say the members of the tribe basking in the glory of having created for themselves a Cultural Centre. However, the construction cost Rs. 2.5 million announces. R. M. P. Bandara Rajapakse, District Secretary of Mahiyangana, under whose aegis the tribe comes. During construction, "more than five lorry loads of timber were taken away," allege many villagers of Dambanagama. "Almost always the rafters became short, could not be used for the building and therefore, sent off," they add. Money matters aside, under the prevalent law in Sri Lanka, the Fauna and Flora Protection Ordinance (FFPO) Act No. 1, 5 of 1970, it is a punishable offence to construct even a temporary building within a national park, without a permit.
Furthermore, according to amendment Act No. 49. 13 of, 1993, no development activities could be carried out without a prior environmental impact study and written permission from the Director of the Department of Wild Life Conservation (DWLC). "No consent was sought, neither was one granted in writing," says Dayananda Kariyawasam, Director, DWLC. And yet, our Aadi Vaasi tribe, the Veddahs or the Vanniyale Aththo, built a cultural centre for their tribe, within the Maduru Oya National Park. Politicians laid the foundation stone with great fan fare. Politicians declared the centre open. Politicians visited the site to have discussions with the tribe. A plethora of public servants followed suit, including the Director - DWLC, District Secretary - Mahiyangana and their subordinates. So, what does it prove - that the political clout is more powerful than the prevailing law of the land? If it is so, then, Uru Warige Vanniyela Aththo is on the right path. For two decades, they were subject to a fine not less than Rs.10,000 and/or a period of imprisonment not less than two years, just for the offence of entering the forest, under FFPO amendment Act No. 49, 14 of 1993. Within the past two years out of the 53 offences presented to courts by the DWLC, more than half are against the members of the Veddah community, points out W. S. Weragama, Park Warden of the Maduru Oya National Park. And now, the discussion is on releasing 1,500 hectares from the park for the sustainable utilisation of the tribe. Within this area, they will be allowed to carry out their traditional lifestyles except killing animals. Identity cards, properly authorising the holders to enter the forest will be issued to those who are selected by the chieftain. However, this is "a pilot project which comes under a one year monitoring period," says the Wildlife Director. Opening the park from Dambana side, employment of 'Aadi Vaasi' youth as trackers and authorising the Chieftain, Vanniyela Aththo as a protector of the park are some other proposals and activities on the cards. However, the 1,500 ha. "is what former President R. Premadasa released for us. It only contains these few villages and the periphery. It is an imprisonment again," argues the Chieftain. What he clamours for is the free passage throughout Maha Vedi Rata, their ancient homeland which linked Dambana to other habitats, Pollebedda, Rathugala, Nilgala and so on. "What they actually need is a hunting ground. They are presenting it in a very subtle way," says a high official of the DWLC, not wanting to mention his name. Will the Veddahs of Dambana get what they want? The establishment of a cultural center is "the beginning, an achievement of two years of effort by the 'Samithi pojja' (association) comprising lawyers, doctors, engineers and those who work in the forest, but don't seek recognition," says the Chieftain, Uru Warige Vanniyela Aththo. "Now, members of our tribe have become street performers in this area. It is sometimes detrimental to the tribe, for some have learnt many vices such as stealing and lying. This center is built to give them recognition and earn a living," he goes on. Revealing his future plans, he says, "Now, visitors come here only to have a good laugh, fooling our men, enjoying our dances and songs. But, in time to come, we will make this the focus - where they will have an opportunity to learn our culture - customs, songs, dances, medicine and be able to treat us as human beings, not sub-human." True, all of us have treated them as sub-human. The tribe had to sacrifice their homelands, their culture and their lifestyle for the 'development' of the so called 'cultured' world, especially the Mahaweli Development Project. Lives of Veddahs have been in disarray since the Mahaweli project deemed their traditional homelands a catchment area of the Maduru Oya reservoir and declared the Maduru Oya National Park on November 10, 1983. "When I was young, they lived interior, in Kandeganwela, Guru Kumbura and Nuge Atta. Some land had been given by the late Dudley Senanayake. But, later on, they were evicted. Since then, they have been living in immense difficulty," says Herath Mudiyanselage Jayaweera, a villager from Dambanegama. The Mahaweli Project uprooted the Veddah community from their ancestral land, replanting them in the Mahaweli areas. With two and a half acres of irrigable land per family, schools, shops, temples, hospitals and modern means of communication, many were forced into peasantry. But, life was not to be easy. Drought, floods, pest attacks, wild beasts, constant losses incurred from cultivation and many personal losses submerged these inexperienced cultivator communities. Aimless, hopeless and rootless they crumbled. While the elderly coveted their free bountiful past, the young engaged themselves in clandestine activity selling their knowledge and intimacy of the forest to outsiders. Wrinkles etched deeply on her lean face, her mouth red with a chew of betel and her tone rising with each mention of the suffering they undergo, octogenarian Uru Warige Hela Uda Bandi, from Henanigala is a good example. "This is our forest, our land. This belonged to our ancestors. We were born and grew up here. When I was a Kekuli (young girl) we roamed free in the jungles. But now, we are imprisoned in Henanigala and I do not even have a means of living," she laments. Seven families, of her four daughters and three sons live in a compound of half an acre, she points out. Her plight had begun when a son was caught for illegal entry into the forest. "My son was shot, caught and imprisoned, because he did not have money to pay," she says. Six months later the son died and "I had to mortgage the field to a villager in Henanigala to perform his last rites. Now I do not have anything, " she complains. With the earth lying parched eight months of the year and the persisting fear that their four months ceaseless labour in the chenas would vanish in a matter of minutes under the might of roaming wild beasts, what can the people do? "August is the most difficult month," agrees Uru Warige Punchi Menika from Dambana. She had not sent her three sons or the daughter to school for the past week. "My husband does manual labour. But, no one needs manual labour this time of the year, during the dry season. There is no work, even in Mahiyangana," she points out. With no work to sustain them, and no means of earning what do they do? "Whatever people do, they do it for survival, to have a meal. Even if we kill an animal, that is to fill our stomachs. What can one do when his children cry out in hunger?" questions their Chieftain. And they sing, dance, pretend they cannot understand the Sinhala language and speak in their lingo, dress in their traditional garb, sit on the dusty road or under the trees and please visitors. Some sell fake medicinal concoctions and potions. Another sells mixtures of treacle, sugar and honey from bumble-bees as pure bees honey. While others join influential outsiders in hunting and logging sprees. When Sunday Observer visited Dambana, we met a certain 'Mr. Sylvester' from a Western coastal town, at the chena of a close relative of the Veddah Chieftain. At the time of our first meeting, not only was he inebriated, but had also got the householder and his brother in the same state. The Sunday Observer later learned that he is a well-known visitor to the hamlet who organises regular hunting parties. Entering the forest is a punishable offence. Yet, the community enters the forest, for their sustenance. "Kele pojje randana minis gajjo, kele pojjenma jeevath pojja mando koranta oona," (Men who live in the forest must live from the resources of the forest), says Unnapana Warige Davuta, short, slightly built and lithe. He is one of the dancers who performs 'Kiri Koraha' the traditional dance of worship for the dead relatives. "We hunt only when it is necessary, and that sustains a family for months. We go into the forest looking for yam, bees honey and medicinal plants. Though it is prohibited now we have to do it. That is our way. We will not let our tribe be destroyed," says Davuta. Hunting, is their traditional means of sustenance, argues the Chieftain. Over 30,000 years, "tradition - customs, ethics and taboos kept gorging at bay and hunting at a sustainable level. If it was not so, no animal could be left in the jungle by now," he points out. "It is the outsiders who destroy the forest, not us," he explains speaking of an 'outsider' who owns 12 guns, one for his own use and 11 for lending to hunting parties and of clearings in the virgin forest where logging and other clandestine activities are rampant. It has been two decades since they had started clamouring for this basic right - the right to the forest. "What I inherited from my father is a jungle destroyed by fire, like a patch of chena land. I want to protect this forest. The forest and our tribe are not two entities, but one. Our survival depends on the forest," Vanniyela Aththo points out. "Our people do not protect the forest now because they see it as government property. When a man has no freedom, he will do anything for survival. The forest, where they once roamed free is a prohibited area for them. It belongs to the government. So, they also join in the destruction, and are not mindful if its is burnt, logged or pilfered. But, if it is ours, we will protect it. They will understand that the forest is as important as their mothers or fathers." Vanniyela Aththo seems hopeful. What if nothing comes out of the discussions and the promises are not delivered? "Well, this time, it looks to be a better response than the last. But, I must say, I do not have high hopes and do not accept all what they say as the Gospel truth. They (the politicians) cannot play us out all the time. We cannot destroy lives, kill people like the terrorists do. What action needs to be taken next, is my question also," he says. Well, Vanniyale Aththo is no fool. **** Fake to the core! A Veddah youth, in traditional garb and an additional blue head-band. One of our journalists found an ally in him for he introduced the individual to many a boy and girl of the community for interviewing, the night we arrived in Dambana. The next morning it was revealed that he was an outsider, from the city now settled in one of the villages. By that time, our journalist had parted with a Rs. 100, a thank you note for the services rendered! ***** No longer Veddahs... Traditional Veddah garb, bare bodies covered with a loin cloth or cloth is no more. It was during the late 1930s, the time of Dr. R. L. Spittel's visits to Bingoda that the Veddah damsels started donning jackets to cover their breasts. And in another decade the half sarong, towel, pouch and the small axe that signifies present day 'Aadi Vaasi' identity may become museum pieces. The present day fashion of the females include frocks, blouses, skirts - long, frilled or flared for the more conventional and short, tight and with slits for those who are closer to the villages. Young males, not to be outdone dress in sarongs, shirts, trousers and denim jeans. Various types of T-shirts are donned by both sexes. Children are dressed in frocks, shorts and shirts. While the more affluent wear sandals most of the children go bare foot. Another point to be considered is the conflict or the rebellion springing up within the community itself. Though he says "any member is free to chose his own lifestyle, while Vanniyela Aththo, the Chieftain and his close associates hold on to the traditional lifestyle , Kolla, the young rebel from Henanigala and his followers who promote integration with the mainstream society are abhorred by Dambana community. Efforts were made to keep the Sunday Observer away from this gang. But, the youth seem to be resenting their traditional identity. "It is a sin to be born a Veddah," says Uru Warige Janaka. Detesting the traditional garb, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he reveals his penchant for lotteries. "If I get the first price, I will definitely settle in Colombo with my family and lead a comfortable life!". Meanwhile, more realistic is Unnapana Warige Sugath, a 17 year old youth studying at a Pirivena. "It is necessary to change with the times. I may not wear the traditional dress, but I will not give up our customs, nor leave the village" he resolves. |
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