In and around "Pondside"

This wall, more like a dam, which extends all the way from the roadside along the pond to the end of my neighbor's property, was what greeted me when I returned to Pondside in mid-June. The pond is split between my neighbor's property and mine. Long ago, both properties were  owned by my grandmother. She gifted Pondside to my uncle George, and the adjoining property to Aunty Bridget (who now lives in the UK). She sold it to her sister Lucy, who eventually sold it to a local, who in turn divided the property and resold it. What was once a 2 acre property is now owned by about 10 people. I don't even know some of them.


My neighbour, who works in Italy and is apparently flush with money, wants to build a house. So he has first built this wall without even asking for my opinion. What he actually needed was a shorter version of about 30 meters directly supporting his house. Instead, he builds an 80 meter version costing around Rs. 700,000 to 800,000 (US$7,000). What I now see from my home is this endless granite wall, which is about 4 feet above the level of my property. Will it flood Pondside? I can only hope for the best. Meanwhile, all I can do is to plant more foliage to block the view. 


Long ago, the pond (which was dug on my grandfather's orders as a swimming pool for his 8 children) was fed by a near perennial stream which flowed through a large coconut plantation named Galawatte. Successive governments broke up the plantation and distributed plots to landless people. The last plots to be divided are merely 10 perches, barely enough for a house. (One acre consists of 160 percehes.) These settlers have gradually filled up the stream, so there's no water flow now. The pond used to attract the occasional fisherman and small boys who used to swim in it.  I remember seeing a monitor lizard. There were all kinds of  water fowl. All gone now, because the pond is bone dry. Not having a stream to feed it, the pond depends on rain water to fill it, and  
Sri Lanka is now experiencing a severe drought. 




We had a number of visitors at Pondside, and one of the first was Dr. MiMei Kwok from the Chinese University's Health Center. She is Fawzia's doctor and later did a tour of the Cultural Triangle and Trincomalee with Fawzia and some relatives. MiMei loves taking photos, and I think this is a good one of hers prowling with her camera. 



This is Viveka, the 9 year old granddaughter of my relative Ignatius, taken on the day she received her first holy communion. This is a big day, more for her parents and immediate family than for the little girl herself. That evening, they spent an enormous amount of money on a feast for which all neighbours and relatives were invited. The parents clearly could not afford the expense and were soon pawning their gold jewelry. This is not unusual in Igantius' family. Last year, his daughter, who works in Italy, got married in Sri Lanka to a man who also works in Italy. The wedding photos alone cost the equivalent of US$4,000. I heard that they, too, pawned their jewelry before returning to Italy. 




Viveka with her mother Nadika.



Fawzia's niece Shehera, who lives in Belgium, also visited. On a short road trip one day, we stopped at a place that sold toddy, the fresh sap of the coconut palm, which is collected every morning. Located between the Dutch Canal and a rice field, with the breeze blowing constantly, there couldn't have been a better location to enjoy this wonderful drink. The nearby coconut palms are crisscrossed with ropes on which the toddy tappers (collectors) move from tree to tree. This is easier than climbing every tree. 


When I was growing up in Negombo, the toddy tappers came from Kerala, India, and were known as Kochichi, probably because they embarked from the port city of Cochin when they traveled to Sri Lanka. Toddy tappers no longer come from India, and my father was in-charge of a toddy tapper training center that the Coconut Research Institute started in the 1970s. The nearby town Kochchikade (loosely translated into Sinhala as the "shop of the Kochchis") is a reminder of the Keralite toddy tappers.





Boralessa village, where Pondside is located, is about 90% Catholic. The patron saint of the local church is St. Anne, whose feast is celebrated in July. Usually on the feast day afternoon, always a Sunday a statue of St. Anne is paraded around the village. In recent years, hardly any villagers take part in the procession because they are drunk or too tired after a heavy lunch. So the parish priest moved the procession to the Sunday before the feast day, and the photo shows the statue, mounted on a vehicle, passing Pondside. Not all villagers are happy with the change. One blamed the terrible drought that has hit the area to a curse caused by the change.



Pondside has been the location for family gatherings, singsongs followed by a seafood lunch. The family came together once again this year. The photo shows Farah, the daughter of Fawzia's niece Dilshad. She sings with a sweet voice.



More photos from the family gathering. Gihan, a fine guitarist and also a vocalist, leads the singing at these events.









My brother Roy, who passed way in 1963 at the age of 12, is buried at the Boralessa. His grave needs some cleaning, a task I have reserved for my next visit. Roy was my mother's favorite child. he lived for 40 years after his passing and I know that she never got over his death. During her last days, as she lay in bed, she claimed that he visited her.