A story of a broken heart, manslaughter, and exile — Part I
Anna was my pappa’s youngest sister. The first time I met, Anna was the day after pappa’s funeral. The year was 1961. She could not arrive in time for the burial service. Anna sat on my grandfather’s verandah and, in her deep sorrow, veiled her cries. She bawled for a while, recalling how her brother guided her life. Anna lived far away in a remote village in Ceylon, now rebranded as Sri Lanka.
Three years later, during the school holidays, my family went on an exciting trip to the bush. It was Anna’s home in Anamaduwa in Northwest on the island of Sri Lanka, which she shared with her husband, Thomas Leo, whom I had not met as yet. I was nine years old by then in the year 1964.
Before I write about our trip to Anna’s and Leo’s home in the bush, I must write about how Anna, an educated teacher, landed in a remote village. It is a story suited for a screenplay packed with action and suspense. A story of a love affair, a broken heart, a delayed marriage, involuntary manslaughter, and finally, an exile.
A broken heart
Anna was a lovely damsel in her prime, with a pouting face and height.
My pappa encouraged his sister to become a schoolteacher and follow his career path. As a result, Anna attended the only teachers' training school in Sri Lanka and qualified as a teacher.
While working as a teacher, with Anna’s good looks, many men admired her. She fell in love with a young man, but her family did not consent to the relationship. Anna resisted initially but was forced to sever the liaison due to family pressure. Heartbroken, she let go of her lover reluctantly. After that, she was determined to be single and did not pursue romantic liaisons. She rejected potential suitors and remained unattached. Many marriage proposals from potential husbands were turned down. She remained unmarried, a difficult proposition in Sri Lanka for a woman in the last century, dominated by men.
Her adamant attitude to remain a spinster continued, but when she turned past forty years, living alone became a problem. She was now older for marriage prospects, and no suitors came. Moreover, educated men did not find Anna, past her prime, a good marriage prospect. As a result, Anna was destined to remain single.
New life
Asthe family’s torchbearer, my pappaforesaw the problem Anna would face soon. Pappa then found a young 25-year-old suitor, Leo, a villager. Leo was well-built and robust but had little education. He was from an improvised background. However, to everyone’s surprise, both Anna and Leo clicked together. Anna consented to their marriage despite the age gap. When they married, Anna was forty-eight years old to Leo, who was virtually half.
After their marriage, they lived in Leo’s hometown in Batagama, some twenty-five kilometres from Colombo.
Leo was a good man, great with his hands, in labour and agriculture. He was a skilled handyman. Anna kept teaching and brought in the money to run their home while Leo did casual labour work in Leo’s hometown. They had no children but adopted an orphaned nephew, Vincent, a son of her deceased brother, Francis.
Manslaughter
Leo had a weakness. His temper was quick. He got into an argument and a fight with some locals in his hometown. The dispute flared, and one of his adversaries came with a knife to attack Leo. The strong and fearless man Leo was quick to respond, and, in the melee, the attacker was killed with his knife. Leo was taken into custody. The police charged him with manslaughter.
My pappa came to his sister’s rescue again and found a good lawyer to defend Leo. At the trial, it was proved that Leo was provoked. He was released with a suspended sentence with a condition. It was that he leave his hometown where the crime occurred and live out as an exile far away to prevent possible retaliatory attacks by the dead person’s family or friends.
Exile
Leo was lucky to escape with a suspended sentence; He took the banishment in his stride.
Anna backed Leo to the tilt and supported him through the trial. Anna took the dispossession well, and both left Leo’s village as directed by the courts.
Anna and Leo moved to Anamaduwa in the 1950s, some 100 kilometres from their then-village. Back then, that distance was considered very far on the tiny island of Sri Lanka. Then, travelling in multi modes of a slow and unreliable transport network took more than six hours.
In exile, Anna retired from teaching. Instead, she complimented their living expenses by drawing a government pension and supporting Leo in rebuilding his life.
This was how Anna and Leo landed in a remote corner of Sri Lanka, away from their families and ancestral lands.
Back to 1964
Fast forward to 1964, a decade later, when my parents decided to take their three children on holiday, Anna and Leo were well established in their adopted village, where Leo was spending his exile farming.
Until then, I had heard stories from Anna about their little village, farmland and her hardworking husband when she visited us alone.
With the planned trip, I was excited to experience her remote village. I looked forward to meeting Leo, her farmer husband whom I had not met for the first time. The banished convict, Leo, was not allowed to leave the village; there was no way he could have visited our home.
We travelled by train and bus to reach their village, some 125 kilometres away. It was a long trek of about eight hours. Their simple house was in the middle of a large property surrounded by cultivated chena. It was a marvellous sight, different from our urban settings.
Vincent, their adopted son — a young man in his twenties was Leo’s helper and lived with Anna and Leo.
When I first met Leo, looking at the plush plantations around, it was obvious he had been busy. Leo was a friendly chap around my father’s age, although technically, he was my granduncle.
After we settled in, Leo took us around the vast property. His maise plants were gigantic, way taller than me. He was proud of his farm, cultivation and what he had achieved.
Then Leo took us to a waterway to bathe while Anna was busy in the kitchen. On our return, Anna fed us a great home meal with a fresh produce farm. She served us venison from the abundant deer in the adjoining jungle, hunted by Leo.
Leo and I clicked. I found Leo to be genuine, simple and kind. After lunch, he took me on a tour of the neighbourhood. Behind his farm was a thick jungle. I was excited to see a massive jungle. Leo promised to take me hunting the next day.
That night, while the others slept inside the house, Leo, Vincent, my father, and I slept on floor mats in their open verandah. Leo slept with his gun by his side. In the middle of the night, I heard many wildlife sounds. Knowing that Leo had a gun and my father was beside me, I was not afraid.
The next day, I was to embark on my first ever hunting, an exciting prospect. Leo changed from his sarong into a pair of khaki shorts. In his pockets were gold-coloured bullets. My father and I joined Leo with his hunting gun on our hunting expedition, leaving early morning. In the jungle, we walked through thick bushland. Monkeys leapt, shrieking and mocking us from tree to tree. I felt scared when I heard wild animals and their roars, but having Leo with us with his gun gave me confidence. We trailed the hunting tracks made by Leo’s fellow villagers. It was a thrilling experience for a nine-year-old.
As we walked looking for the hunt, Leo explained the strange world of the jungle. Stories about attacking animals, hunts, trees, hidden treasures, and jungle myths. It was not our day that day. To our dismay, there was no sign of wildlife, a disappointment. By around mid-day, the three of us turned back and returned empty-handed. My mother was pleased to see me returning unharmed. Earlier, she reluctantly consented to my first foray into the jungles.
Back on the farm, there were no toilets. One took a bucket of water and a spade and walked far deeper into the bush away from their home. It was a strange routine, but I quickly adapted to it.
Leo took me to see neighbouring farmlands, bush tracks, waterways, and irrigation channels.
We stayed in Anna’s and Leo’s house for a few more days enjoying their generous hospitality, and returned home.
I liked Leo for his daredevil ways as a man. After all, he was not afraid to fight and acted in self-defence as a young man. He was active, athletic, and well-built but kind and gentle. He showed me affection and addressed me Putha (පුතා), a dear term in Sinhala that means son. He was energetic and relatively young; I promised Leo I would visit them during my following school holidays. I never managed to do that; perhaps I was too young to travel alone. It was a promise I could not keep.
A few years lapsed. We started receiving frequent visits from Anna. She stayed with us for a few days on each visit. Anna discussed with my mother the idea of giving up their farmland and returning to Anna’s roots at Eldeniya when Leo’s court order for exile ran out.
Anna and Leo decided to give up the lease on their farm and relocate to their ancestral property in Eldeniya. While Leo remained to finalise the farm's closure, Anna stayed with us at our home.
Our house had four bedrooms; one was occupied by my eccentric uncle, Christie, my mother’s elder brother. The main bedroom belonged to my parents. The remaining two were for kids and grandmothers. With Anna, now sixty-five years old, we had three grandmothers in our house, both my grandmothers, including Euphracia, my mentally ill grandmother. It was an odd living formation for a young family, three grandmothers versus three young kids in a single house. It was heavily tilted towards the old. There were nine people in the house, of which only five of us were from my immediate family.
Anna and her nephew, my uncle — a cameo
Anna had a particular soft corner for Christie, my uncle and mother’s introverted elder brother. He was thirty-five years old and remained a bachelor. Christie only returned home for the weekends. While home, he locked himself in his room in the front of the house. Christie was aloof to us kids, ignoring us. He was never kind to my siblings and me. He probably had an emotional detachment disorder. I did not feel connected to him, nor did I like him.
Anna waited expectantly until Christie returned home every weekend. She made a particular dish or two to serve him exclusively. When Christie was at home, he was always in his room, alone, only coming out for food and washing. Anna stopped everything she did to talk to her favourite nephew near his room. She gave him titbits of news and her long-convoluted stories. Christie would not open his room door to her, partly ignoring her. Anna would not relent and then went near Christie’s room window instead. Standing next to the window, she continued her long-winded stories. Christie would hardly respond. Anna would not give up on her ongoing spiel. She would go on and on about possible marriage proposals, detailing the positive aspects of potential brides for her pet nephew. What a parody that was! The irony of this whole drama was not lost on me despite my young age.
My sister and I found these behaviours from my uncle and Anna odd, wacky and funny. We watched these insane sagas from a distance, enjoying the parody — amusements for two kids.
Leo’s return from exile
Afew months later, Leo relocated to Eldeniya to Anna’s ancestral property, a large block of about three acres. Leo started to build a tiny house on the new land. Their adopted son, Vincent, a young man in his twenties, helped Leo in his labour. Both worked hard, razing the ground and carrying the soil. Anna left our home and joined Leo and Vincent when their house was complete.
Immediately, Leo started his farm work. Anna and Leo did not have the funds to buy seeds and fertiliser for their new farm. They lived from hand to mouth. My mother was their bank, whom they borrowed from for their business. They relied on my mother for various things, money and advice.
Anna and Leo were now living not far away. They were regular visitors to our home from then onwards. On each visit, Leo described the beauty of their farm, stoking my curiosity. He was particularly proud of his hard work. Leo kept on inviting me to visit his farm.
During one of Leo’s visits, I pleaded with my mother to allow me to spend a weekend at Leo’s farm. So, with her permission, I left home with Leo that afternoon. When we got off the bus, it rained heavily. We walked through paddy fields in the rain among the heavy thunders to reach their new home. Leo knew his tracks and shortcuts through narrow paths and tight water bridges. Soaked to the bone, we finally found our way to his extensive property and simple home. His home was like a hut without electricity and a water supply.
Visit Leo’s new farm.
Their home was a basic small hut made of dried mud. There was little furniture; one bedroom, an open fireplace kitchen and no electricity. Anna was busy in the kitchen and cooked me a simply tasty meal. In the night, in their tiny hut, Leo and I slept in the open verandah on a simple jute bed.
The next day was sunny. Looking out into their farm, I was amazed at the extent of its size and the magnificent growth of pineapple plants. Unfortunately, Vincent, their adopted adult son, had found labour work in the city and left when I visited Anna and Leo.
I enjoyed Leo’s company, another in this unique environment. Leo was out to please me in every little way he could with simple gestures and experiences. I enjoyed the earthen atmosphere in their field and the simplicity of living in their bare mud cottage. Mid-day, Leo climbed a coconut tree to bring down baby fruits to serve me fresh coconut water.
I followed Leo everywhere on the farm. He showed me the well he had dug in the middle of the property to irrigate the plants. The well was deep, and it must have taken him a lot of hard labour to dig it up with manual tools. Leo watered the farm by hand, pulling water from this new well. At the bottom of the land, where it met the open paddy fields, there was another water well for bathing. Behind the well was a row of king coconut trees bearing orange-coloured fruits. This second well was for bathing and was open to the neighbours for use as a common utility.
The water was crystal clear in the open well at the bottom of the land. A bare-chested neighbouring kid came by while Leo showed me around. The kid came and sat near the edge of the well. The boy offered to take me to the waterways beyond the paddy field in the afternoon. Another boy, the first boy’s younger brother, also turned up at the well to join the chatter.
Both boys stripped and bathed at the well, pulling water from a bucket and enjoying their freedom. I, too, joined them. The water was fresh but cold and natural. It was a joy in boyhood freedom, bathing in the open air.
That afternoon, I returned home, enjoying a simple village home treatment in a rugged environment. Leo travelled with me by bus and returned me to my mother.
This story continues in part 2. It has many surprises, twists and turns. Click here to read the 2nd part.
This is a factual story, compiled from the author’s experiences as a young boy and stories told to him by his elders.
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