Novel pleads for tolerance and compassion

Sam's Story

Author: Elmo Jayawardena

A Vijitha Yapa publication

167 pp Price Rs. 300

A first-person narrative, Sam's story is told by Sam himself. Indeed, the pronoun "I" is the novel's first word: "I came to work at the river house not so long ago. It was a few years before the world became 2000. Two thousand to me is a nice sounding number, that is why I remember (...) I know the exact month (...) It was the mango month."

Sam is mentally challenged, a simpleton, and since he is the narrator, the reader must cope with a degree of uncertainty. For example, in the above extract there are vague phrases such as "the river house", "not so long ago", and "mango month".

In Shakespeare's tragedy, King Lear, the Fool is the wisest of men: Jayawardena's remarkable achievement is to utilise a poor, ostensibly foolish, man to highlight folly and injustice (in private and public life) - and the resulting tragedy and pain.

Chinua Achebe famously commented that if literature ignored the important issues confronting a people, it would be in danger of itself becoming unimportant. Contemporary Sri Lanka is beset with several, very grave, problems, among them poverty and the ethnic conflict - two central preoccupations in Sam's Story.

Poverty is communicated by what Sam directly describes, and through contrast. Sam's mother, his two brothers and two sisters don't eat meat, fish or eggs because they can't afford to, but they sustain the make-believe that it's because they are Buddhists.

"We always ate gotukola and kankun that grew wild on the riverbank (...) Vegetables and rice, like good Buddhists" (p.48). His mother cooked when there was something to cook; when there wasn't anything, she pretended to be sick, and the family went hungry.

Sexual advantage is taken of her (p.28) when she goes looking for employment for her children. (Sam doesn't know what happened to his father, and so neither does the reader.)

The houses in the village are made of "rotting wood planks covered by a cadjan roof and the floor hardened by a mixture of mud and cow-dung" (p.30).

During the rainy season, the mixture gets wet, begins to dissolve, and to smell. When their mother falls ill, the children borrow money for the bus fare, carry her two miles, and wait for the vehicle. At the hospital, they wait for hours for the doctor who spares her only a few hurried minutes. (Perhaps unaware of cruel irony, he recommends good food and rest.)

The medicine he prescribes is said to be free to the poor, but is never in stock, and they can't afford to buy it privately. The family begins their return journey home. It was all a futile exercise but when their mother falls ill again, having no option, they repeat the exercise, getting deeper into debt.

In contrast to this existence, Sam's "Master" and family live in a large house by a river, with each bedroom having its own bathroom (p.16).

There is a surfeit of food and drink; they own a boat, and an airconditioned car. When the family dog falls ill, it is rushed for medical care, and friends and relations rally round to express concern and commiseration. The contrast with the realities of life for Sam and his family need not be spelt out.

Economic desperation

Poverty and the ethnic war are related: it is unemployment, and economic desperation that drive Sam's two brothers to join the army. One is killed in action: the brother paid with his life; the army pays for the funeral (p.110).

The hero's picture is posted on a tree trunk, with his "silly clothes and the funny hat that went sideways. And he was dead" (p.112). The other brother returns in the night, like a thief (p.112), a deserter, a bitter and angry man. We are called cowards, but at least we fought for a while. What of the sons of the rich? It is their country, but not their war (pp. 113-114).

Those who support the war most vehemently are not on the frontline - neither they, nor their sons and close relations. Soldiers on "the other side" of the conflict are worse off: "Most of them are just children (...) A lot of them are young girls" (p.115).

"They never went in big vehicles with big guns jutting out (...) They didn't even have shoes to wear to go to war." (p.136).

With death on both sides, anger and hate seep down beyond the elite, beyond the soldiers who actually fight. "There was always the count of how many were killed and how many bodies were collected and how many ended up without arms and legs" (p.147).

It seeps, and poisons ordinary Sinhalese and Tamils, and hatred intensifies. Misled, exploited and made use of, a poor Tamil cook (Leandro) and a poor Sinhalese gardener (Sam) hate each other (p.54), though they share the same room, even as the Sinhalese and Tamils occupy the same small island.

Their kind and apolitical Master is an accidental victim of the attack on the Central Bank (31 January 1996), and belatedly Leandro and Sam are united in shock and grief: "He hugged me and told me to take care of myself" (p. 164).

Madam leaves the Island, joining her children studying abroad. (One notes the contrast: facing similar loss and grief, Sam's mother has no choice but to continue the struggle for survival.)

Society sees Sam as a fool who doesn't understand the world around him; one who finds no answers and explanations. Like its narrator, Sam's Story is a work of questions without answers, but the very absence of answers, of explanation, points to the national folly and tragedy.

Transcending narrow ethnic division, the novel reaches out to a common humanity. This last is best seen in three female characters: Sam's mother, "Madam", and Janet, the (Tamil) servant. The mother faces poverty and hardship with quiet courage and endurance, expressing love through her daily struggles and sacrifice.

Despite (or because of?) his mental disability, Sam is her "golden" (precious) son: "She was the only one who spoke to me like that. She was the only one who loved me so in this world" (p. 108). While others of her social circle talk about the war, Madam is silent, seeing its human tragedy.

"They are all someone's children, aren't they? (...) What difference does it make what race they belong to ? (...) The sadness is the same. Is there anything sadder than having to stand and shed tears while they bury your son?" (p.134). Janet cannot bring herself to speak about the war at all:

"Her little brother too had left home to fight" (p.136). Her reproach at fate is not articulated, and she bears her anxiety and sorrow in silence. "In a way, both Janet and I were creating our own hopes without admitting they were hopeless" (ibid).

Sexual immaturity

Sam's "foolishness" and sexual immaturity create patches of humour, sometimes harmless and innocent; sometimes, sharply ironic. In other words, the novel is at once funny and sad - a mixture stemming from the complex character of the narrator: a perceptive fool, a wise simpleton.

Sam's incomprehension (as he confronts insult, exploitation, inequality, violence, political fraud, deceit) is an indictment of the present state of affairs, and a plea. We are left asking whether Sam is the "fool" or the politicians and the people.

"If none of us didn't know what this was all about, then, there must have been some very special reasons for this war. I don't think those who knew the reasons and kept the war going ever fought in the battles" (p.137).

I mean the truth untold,

The pity of war, the pity war distilled ...

Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot wheels,

I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,

Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.

(From Wilfred Owen's poem, 'Strange Meeting')

Sam is ignored and under-valued by others: Sam's Story, narrated in the simple language of a fool, is a deceptively quiet and understated work.

But if the novel does not receive the attention it so richly deserves, the loss will be not only to Sri Lanka's (English language) literature but to the Island itself, for the work raises fundamental questions, asserts a common humanity, and pleads for tolerance and compassion.

It ought to be translated into Sinhala and Tamil, and should find its way into the list of texts for Sri Lanka's senior pupils and students reading English literature.

- Charles Sarvan, Berlin

Revolutionary ardour and its aftermath

The Giniralla Conspiracy

Author: Nihal de Silva

Vijitha Yapa Publications

Price: Rs. 599

Nihal de Silva's felicitous style captivates admirably the traumatic transition of his protagonist, Sujatha Mallika, the 'gamey kella' into a near revolutionary in his most recent work, the Giniralla Conspiracy.

A prolific writer, at least in the last few years, de Silva has in this, his second novel in the past three years since he won the 2003 Gratiaen Prize, placed his story against the timeless topic of university unrest.

The Jaypura University situation is the backdrop of Sujatha Mallika's story which the writer cleverly weaves among those sadistic raggers, the political elements that fire youthful ambitions, their fiery wish to save the world and the seemingly insidious methods of attracting the "freshers" into their fold.

It is into this milieu that the young, rural bred, unsophisticated Sujatha enters as an undergraduate. In this inhospitable new world in which she finds herself, she suffers the cruel sadism of the seniors, her friendlessness and the agonizing loneliness. But through it all she is a survivor.

More so as she feels drawn to the leader of the political group whose dream is the destruction of the corrupt establishment and find the rural poor - the Sujatha Mallika and thousands of young rural men and women like her - a place in the sun.

Though lost in this new world to which she has come from a remote village in the south, already traumatized by past events of incest and a forced abortion, she comes through the initial phase of her life in the university remarkably well, despite initial misgivings and traumatic situations.

It is here that the author's sensitivity to the situation of this young woman comes through refreshingly clear, in simple uncontrived language interspersed with the Sinhala for greater effect.

Feeling and insight

The writer draws with feeling and insight the dual role of young Sujatha Mallika in which she is deeply attracted and even committed to the cause of a better world for her people on the one hand, and her abhorrence of the violence used by the members of the political party to suppress and punish those opposed to their "cause".

She is at a crossroads here, deterred also by friends who have become important to her during her university life and her natural revulsion of violence and the attraction of a brave new world which she is certain the "cause" will achieve.

Events reach a climax when during her final year at the university she stumbles across the Giniralla Project which promises mayhem, murder and the destruction of the city of Colombo.

It is at this point, disappointed, dismayed and frightened, she decides to leave the party as she graduates from Jaypura. But her ambition has been fired and working as a journalist she pursues her mission of a brave new world. It is this same dream that soon turns into a nightmare.

The novel comprises four journals kept by Sujatha Mallika during her years at the university and immediately after, as a journalist. A small parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string had been picked up during a police raid on a terrorist camp.

The package had four ordinary exercise books chronicled by a young woman in which she claims to have stumbled upon a conspiracy to overthrow the government.

Without divulging more of the story, suffice it to say that this is the story of the Giniralla Conspiracy the storm of fire which would have destroyed the city of Colombo if not for the courage of this young woman and the sacrifice of the young man who loved her.

Traumatic experiences

In all her traumatic experiences as a member of the revolutionary party, she has the tender love of Mithra, the lasting friendship of Nali and the courageous support of Harith, her university colleagues. The thread that runs through the story of love and loyalty is in sharp contrast to the violence and terrible ambitions of the party members.

It is these silken bonds that humanize the tale of frustration and fiery ambition that dominate the reader's thinking, the startling possibility that had it not been for the unravelling of the plot by the young journalist and the supreme sacrifice of the young man whose devotion to her was underplayed throughout the story, the denouement would have been something tragically different.

The flame has been aborted but Sujatha Mallika's dream is still alive.

"This is not a victory, you know," she tells Mithra. "It is one more shattered dream. Stopping Giniralla does not help our rural poor, nothing had changed for them. So there will be other plots... every maniac who wants to grab power will do it in the name of the poor!"

And she places the responsibility of a place in the sun for her people on her delicate shoulders....

"Alone, I can't do much... But I must do what I can."

- Vijitha Fernando

An introduction to language

Manava Bhasha Praveshaya Author: Prof. J. B. Disanayaka

I am not a linguist, but as a student interested in the scientific study of language, find the contents of Prof. Disanayaka's new book on 'Human Language' quite relevant, useful and interesting reading, in particular for the intended audience to whom the book is addressed.

The book is designed to be used by the students of linguistics as well as for those interested in knowing the unique features of human language and its powerful elements. Prof. Disanayaka has based this book on his lectures to university students during his several years of lecturing.

There are ten chapters. Each chapter comprises ten units. So it consists of 100 units in all. It is a comprehensive treatment on the subject, covering the essential and relevant aspects of human language with special reference to the Sinhala language.

The nature, structure, functions, variations, types, patterns, meanings and research methodology are some aspects that are covered. There is also a lengthy introduction, with some personal observations which are interesting to read, though less relevant to the subject matter.

Of particular interest is the style of presentation. I find Prof. Disanayaka's short, straight forward, meaningful sentences quite impressive and easily palatable. He makes a key statement in each unit and cites examples to justify it.

This approach is quite logical and scientific. The student reader in particular, will find this approach to be very powerful and useful in analytical interpretation.

Human language is a complex system and it is intimately linked with human life and society - making it an internalised power in every human being as well as offering resource material for one's identity.

- Dr. S. Tennakoon

Notable transcreation

Senehasa

Author - Senaratne Weerasinghe

Prabha Publishers and Printers, 174/28 Veyangoda

287 pages Price Rs. 350

Senehasa is Senaratne Weerasinghe's latest translation of Ivan Turgenev's Fathers and Sons.

Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev (1818-1883) is considered the foremost stylist in Russian literature. His novels, poems and plays show an elegant craftsmanship.

During the ideological controversy between Westernizers and Slavophiles, Turgenev sided with the former and eventually spent long periods of time outside Russia.

Fathers and Sons, published in 1862, was his masterpiece. In this novel, he analyses the philosophy of nihilism. Bazaror, the protagonist of the novel is an idealistic radical dedicated to universal freedom and destined for tragedy in his lifetime.

Senaratne Weerasinghe in his complete and unexpurgated translation shows how Turgenev handles his characters. Senehasa, on another plane, depicts how changes in society can be achieved without resorting to revolution.

Being a veteran in his craft, Senaratne Weerasinghe has captured the essence of Turgenev's philosophy for the edification of the present generation. Books of this nature broaden our horizon and enrich Sinhala literature.

- R.S. Karunaratne