Revisiting the Golden Island

Ran Divaina
Translator: Senaratne Weerasinghe
Prabha Publishers, Veyangoda

Reviewed by Padma Edirisinghe

Writers are a lucky lot, more so, the creative writers. A whole world spreads around them for them to sieve out plots. Romance seems to be going out of fashion. This is the post colonial period staged in the aftermath of countries, both East and West, more East having rid themselves of the boots of colonialism beginning to reflect on myriad facets of the issue.

But when Denis Clarke, an Englishman served in colonial Lanka in 1910—1920 when grandmas of those of our age were in their toddling stage, there existed no colonial issue, then, taking for granted the superiority of the Whites. We, the Blacks crawled underneath them except for a chosen few. But Clarke’s strange novel is biased towards the Sinhalese, although they were not black, but golden. Hence the name of their island, the Golden Island.

Who were the Blacks? The Tamils. Kalu in the translation.

The author is prejudiced against them and even their religion, Hinduism. Steeped in their ritual, at times bloody, they dispelled the placid notion of Nirvana.

The translator, Weerasinghe in his preface mentions the fact that the original English one had been recommended a school library reader but had been “ex—communicated” later in the 1940s. The reasons are obvious. The writer has been very bold to put out this translation again after 12 years, when the first translation surfaced and at a time when the amity between the two races is much needed.

Biased

However, the biased “Kona’s tale” or the content is the Sinhala prose is presented mellifluently as the author is a seasoned translator having put out a number of translations. The reviewer herself has gone through many literary works by British writers of the colonial period on Ceylon, some complimentary, some degrading.

Writing on colonial Ceylon began as early as the Portuguese period, the outstanding writer being a Roman Catholic friar named Queroz who amazingly was partial towards the colonised race. So, the matter of partiality or bias lies in the mentality of the writer.

And if the translator had the boldness to stoke old issues that better be forgotten that is all very well, as far as the independent mental power of the translator is concerned. The background period selected is the Glorious Period of Gamini, the mighty king who executed the most successful onslaught on the Tamils. At a time when some are brainwashed to spurn the memory of Dutta Gamini for the sake of national amity the translator has shown a remarkable boldness, wise or otherwise.

The book finally true to the original ends up a Prasasthi or Ode to king Gamini, encompassing even the building of Ruwanweliseya and his final voyage to heaven, watched by those on earth! In this section the original writer has no doubt been influenced by the Mahavamsa.

Quest

If a modern day child were to learn the strategies employed by the two parties in their quest for power one could recommend this book. But what is needed for today’s war-ridden world where thousands of innocent lives including young lives are offered at the altar of belligerence are not the education on war strategies and how to kill each other better.

The translator’s foreword, though not relevant to the book – theme is very informative, especially on the change of attitudes of British writers towards the colonies. Very condescending and critical at the beginning, writers such as Woolf, the Bloomsbury writers and Eliot seem to have changed the tide. Neruda is a Latin American writer whose memoirs contribute towards this trend. It is new to learn that he has visited Ceylon several times. Robert Knox’s book exposed the positive side of Eastern life and again he plays a positive role being noble enough to be magnanimous to his captors of 19 years.

However, one fails to see a connection between these facts and king Gamini’s building of the Swarnamalee Chaitya with the help of Devas. Other writers have the freedom to be irrational.

Anyway, good luck to this very busy “Translating machine” whose translated works (minus a bias) seem to exceed 50. Again, to be Sri Lankan sans a telling colour rather than a Kalu Damila or Fair Sinhalaya (questionable again) augurs for the mental well-being of the nation.