Jayamanne Mawatha

The Legacy of a Fierce and Generous Man

This is the story of Jayamanne Mawatha, the lane that came out of nowhere. It was in Mudiyansegewatta, a place that sounded like a sneeze. It was in Dalugama, just ten kilometres from the heart of Colombo.

The lane was a gift from Annavi Seeya, who lived behind a locked gate. He had made his fence a wall, so tight that not even a mouse could squeeze through. He had planted sticks all over his land, as if to ward off evil spirits.

He and his wife lived in this fortress alone. They had no children, no grandchildren. He did not care for the young. He let his mangoes rot on the ground, and he hoarded his coconuts. He did not share with his neighbours.

He had a fierce look, and his eyes pierced you like needles. His nose was sharp, his face was thin, and his hair was thinning. He hated games, and he had made a law for the neighbourhood children. The first rule was: do not hit the ball into his land. That would be the end of the game. He was not a friend of the children, and he guarded his land like a treasure. If a ball fell into his land, it was gone forever.

But he had another side to him, a side that he showed only once. He did a good deed for his neighbours. He gave them a piece of land, ten feet wide and a hundred and fifty yards long, for a lane that would take them to the world. That was how Jayamanne Mawatha was born. The neighbours, thankful for his kindness, named the lane after him. He was my grandmother’s first cousin. Jayamanne was his ancestral name, Jayamanne Mohottige Jeramius.

There were many houses with big gardens on Jayamanne Mawatha. On the right was the land of Annavi Seeya, the generous soul who hated children. The first house was Baby Akka’s, full of fruit trees. She was a kind woman who loved children. Whenever her grandchildren, Merril and Elmo, visited, we had a grand time there, eating her fruits and stuffing ourselves with her sweets.

Behind her house was her brother, Peduru or Peter Seeya. He was a good man who loved children and always smiled. He rode his bicycle up and down the lane in his sarong and coat. His wife was a schoolteacher in the village, and so was his daughter Pearly. Pearly’s son Rohan was one of our playmates. They had a big patch of bamboo on the side of their land. Behind their land was a green field of rice, a huge paddy field.

On the other side of the lane were three big plots. The first one was Marcileno’s, Annavi Seeya’s cousin. He had a flock of daughters and a tiny house.

Next to him was Thomas Ayya’s plot. He owned a butchery in Dalugama, near the church. He used his plot as a slaughterhouse. Every week, a truck brought cows that were killed every day. An Abbottair worker worked for him, and he doubled as a butcher in his shop. He carried the meat in his ox-cart to the butchery on Kandy Road every morning. He wore a sarong and a red cloth on his shoulder. He smiled at everyone he met on the road and was a popular soul in the village.

The last plot was Benjamin’s. He was Marcileno’s brother. His son was Anton, and there was an elder sister. Cows grazed his large land, and beyond it was the huge paddy field.

This is the story of Jayamanne Mawatha, its origins and the inhabitants in the 1960s and 1970s.