The legendary Ma Oya

If there is a natural and watery entity in the island that is discriminated by name, it is Ma Oya. To put it more clearly Ma Oya should have been named Ma river but for some inexplicable reasons it has stopped short, nominally at the name Oya. Oya happens to be the appellation for stretches of water that fall beneath those of rivers. We are all familiar with the rivers as Mahaweli, Kelani, Kalu, Walave and Manik but Ma Oya seems to play second tune to them by name. This despite the long distance it traverses acting even as a boundary of provinces and carrying volumes of water to the ocean from the cool climes of the central highlands.

The Mahaweli and Kelani too have their origins in the Sri Pada plains of the central highlands but Ma Oya rushes down taking a different route. Its flow originates from Rassa Ella, Falls of the Devil. But the devil seems to be of a different genre. He is not a man-eater but a very beneficial one, even a very patronising one,according to legends in the area. If one were to believe these legends in toto, this devil has been fraternising the agricultural interests of the area, making one wonder whether the Devil after all is a sub-human.

The area around the spring of Ma Oya was one impoverished and lack of equipment was the main hindrance to a rich paddy harvest. Very few owned their private equipment and went about borrowing. The Devil soon hoarded a store and began lending them. Every morning the farmers come to his habitat and remove mammoties and return them in the evening. The habit, however, ceased when one farmer craftily did not return his mammoty. The devil himself had disappeared after this, furious at the base acts of humans.

Mountain

Yet the name Rassagala that the mountain was baptised with, remained and still continues. Ma Oya springing from a fountain at the top of Rassagala, cascades down through the Ahu Pini Falls and goes down to the plains of Mawanella. Which came first,the chicken or the egg? The name Mawanella, Ma Wan Ella, definitely springs from Ma Oya again.

Stand on the Mawanella bridge, one of the first bridges put up by the British, and the breathtaking view around takes you right back to the terrain of the upcountry replete with rocks and gorges and massive stretches of hills. Down below the Oya gushes towards its exit, white foams of water naughtily dressing the black boulders and presenting a fantastic view. Legend or perhaps records have it that the first bilingual school (English cum Sinhala) in the country was put up at Mawanella by the banks of this river.

Work on the bridge was going on in earnest and many came to settle down around with their families. These included even a streak of the White men including Burghers.

To cater to the education of their children, the bilingual school had been set up presenting a model to many such schools in the island. There is a considerable Moslem population too at Mawanella and it is rather difficult to underpin the factors leading to this migration or settlement.

To be far fetched, one can conjecture one reason, as the trade activities of the Moslems which ran in their blood. The Thavalam routes used to traverse the island before the motor power came into the scene. Perhaps due to the Arab tradition that invigorates these Thavalam or oxen trails (parallel to the camel routes of their homeland, the desert countries), Moslems owned many of them and wherever they began to stop for a rest, a Moslem settlement sprang or it can be surmised so.

The road that runs from Mawanella upwards through Hemmatagama is almost flanked by Moslem dwellings and they live at peace with the Sinhala Buddhists. No irate racial strife has flared in these areas, at least as memory extends.

Natural boundary

Southwards the Ma Oya gushes down to Giriulla and beyond , registering a natural boundary between the Western province and

Wayamba province. Incidentally, the Deduru oya too springs close to this area but plays second fiddle to Ma Oya. Beyond Ma Oya is picturesque Sanda Lanka, the moon Lanka. As you take the road from Giriulla past Mirigama and travel towards Negombo, Sanda Lanka follows you across Ma Oya like a dear companion.

You meet Ma Oya at Alawwa again, where a massive bridge confronts you. It is of British make and now old and worn out, is getting a face lift for Alawwa itself is a very important city, transport wise. Incidentally just close to the bridge is a Hotel called the Hotel of the Bridge or some such name. You step in and ask for details of the bridge and they are in the blues. For them it is just a bridge and nothing more. The authorities who use the name as a commercial trap are only interested in knowing whether you would sup there.

Just past Alawwa is the Rambukkana station from where trains chug upwards and enter the base of Alagalla mountain to make an entry to the hill capital.

Ma Oya lets the trains go their way as they emit their hoots and the popular refrain, Udarata Meniketa pata kuda deka deka” (Two parasols for the upcountry damsels). The Oya itself now enters the route to disgorge its waters into the sea. One should not forget the new villages that rose as settlements of the railway workers on the main line, specially helping in the building and maintenance of tunnels and the famous Kadugannawa incline.

Some of these villages fringe the river. Let us trail the route of the Ma Oya that spills out to the sea at Kochcikade off Negombo. Close by is the Aiyanayake Devale and its famous White horse. Many are not sure of how the horse came to be there. Some say that a White soldier who had taken residence in the area had made a vow to the Devale for a sickness and that being cured he gifted the replica of his horse to the kovil whose patron god is Aiyanayake. A Buddhist complex too reigns there.

White horse

Sit in the balmic shelter of the massive bo tree and have your eyes fixed on the white horse too. The rhythmic music of the river Ma Oya as it flows down some distance away soothes you. Think of the exhausting trip she has made though under a discriminated name, toppling down mighty mountains into a smoother plain.

And think of how her beginnings once provided a refuge to a devil who fraternised an agrarian community. Think of all the rural communities who lived and live on the banks of this river drawing their sustenance from it in different ways.

My own Lama Nirmana Project, I once based on this river, for I happened to live in the vicinity of Ambuluwava range that rises like a giant. I remember with joy the trip I made with the head (Irene Eknaligoda) and students of Hemmatagama Devi Balika but we were walking upstream battling rocks and boulders and faced many a difficulty but the memories of Ma Oya still linger sweet and watery. By the way, books are proliferating these days but has any one made a literary parcel of Lanka’s gushing rivers and Oyas? Perhaps I missed it.