Work, Marriage, & Family

I was now living with mother at “The Meet” in Boralessa and supervising her properties when a friend Cyril Perera who I met in church suggested taking up a clerical job in Colombo. Mother was not too happy at my traveling to Colombo daily as the war was on. Cyril and I went to the Medical Department office in the secretariat for an interview and were both selected as temporary clerks into the Anti Malaria Campaign on a princely salary of Rs.1.25 per day plus a war allowance of 20%. Colombo was then a deserted city with only a few offices and shops open, with the front entrances hidden behind sand bags and all doors and windows without glass panes. British shops like Cargills, Millers, Whiteways etc. were helping in the war effort by providing essential food to the people.

We were also trained in Air Raid Precaution and First Aid work. No electric lights were to be exposed and all vehicles had to cover their headlights with thick blue cloth or a G.I. shield with a tiny opening. Even the tramcars plying in the city had their lights covered and only the clang of the bell indicated one was approaching in the dark. Practice air raid alarms were held weekly with the sound of sirens and we had to leave our desks and run for shelter or get under tables. Air raid shelters were built underground in various spots in the Colombo Fort and Maradana areas for civilians to seek shelter during an air raid. As a youngster it was great fun to be hiding underground cuddled together in semi- darkness with one’s superiors. Fortunately, the Japanese never raided again, but the British Government maintained their defense of the island by bringing more troops from the Commonwealth countries in defense of Ceylon. In spite of numerous attacks by Japanese submarines on ships bringing food, the people had enough supplies to survive.

From the window of our office we could see warships and cargo vessels in the harbour which had large balloons floating high with steel cables attached, to prevent Japanese dive bombers from attacking. Sir Oliver Goonetilleke was appointed Civil Defense Commissioner. He decreed that the shops and hotels that were closed be opened by owners who were willing to take a risk. 

Mother prepared my lunch and I rode my bicycle along the railway line to Bolawatte railway station to catch the office train to Colombo, running the risk of being knocked down by the train which sometimes overtook me. None of the family ever knew the risk I was taking as they all had their own problems.

I found traveling to Colombo daily too tedious and requested a transfer to the office of the Medical Officer of Health (MOH), Nattandiya, in 1945. I had a Morris 8 car and a B.S.A. 500 cc motorbike and used to travel to office in them or sometimes by train. It was here I first met Fernie who was destined to be my wife. She was a field midwife attached to the same office where I worked. There were eight other midwives in the batch. Fernie's full name was Adline Fernie Beatrice Fernando. Her parents were Walter George Fernando, Manager of a desiccated coconut (DC) mill at Pannala and her mother was Rosalind Perera. Fernie had two sisters and four brothers.

In 1948, Fernie was transferred to the Rural Hospital, Hurikaduwa, in Kandy District, nearly 100 miles from where I lived, a great distance at that time. I, too, was transferred to Galgamuwa, in the Anuradhapura District, in the north central province. As a bachelor, I had numerous friends attached to the Anti-Malaria Scheme and we went by jeep to Anuradhapura town every fortnight, bathing in the Kalaoya on our return and shooting hare, wild boar, and wild fowl on the way. The Medical Office of Health (MOH) Dr Mather would join us on the trip and my friends Weerasingham and Herbie Gunasekara were regular company. Such nights would usually end in a booze and feast of venison and singing in my quarters.


Vauxhall Velox

My car now was a 6 cylinder Vauxhall Velox 6 and I had my B.S.A motorcycle, too. On weekends I would either drive (petrol was cheap then) or ride to visit Fernie in Hurikaduwa and return for duty at Galgamuwa on Monday. It was a very tedious trip. Mother had already brought two marriage proposals, which I did not take seriously. Rita Ratnayake a cousin of Ed Wambeek (my brother in law) was also on the waiting list. Rita later became a film actress and passed away recently. During my work in Colombo, I had a girl friend Miss Ivy Hughes, a student of Methodist College. But her parents gave her in marriage to an army sergeant, maybe because I was only a clerk. They should have known better because in a few years she was a widow. The last I heard, she was living in Australia.

On 10th May 1949 Fernie and I were married at the Registrar’s office in Mahagalkadawala, a remote village in the Vanni area. We had a few loyal friends present at the simple ceremony and Mr. Weerasingham was the attesting witness. We held a reception for our close friends at the Galgamuwa Rest House. We lived in a thatched cottage and bathed in the village tank with lots of other simple village folk. Sometimes we could see wild boar, deer and monkeys drinking water on the other side of the tank. It was a rustic life but we were happy.


Fernie, baby George (3 months old), Shelton (Fernie's youngest brother) and me at the Galgamuwa house, 1950. George was 3 months old. The little girl squatting in front is Heen Menike, from the village, who came to look after George and stayed with us till the 1960s. She now lives at Pallama.

Once, when we were bathing at the village tank, we saw a wild figure on the far side, bathing hurriedly and vanishing into the jungle. This must have been Yakadaya (“Iron Man”), who was on the run and hiding in the jungle after committing murder. The search for Yakadaya was considered the “biggest manhunt in Ceylon” at that time. He was later caught by the police. Unlike now, the Ceylon Police and the public services in general were an interesting ethnic mix in those days. The policemen investigating Yakadaya’s case were Assistant Superintendent of Police Van Sanden, Sub Inspector Andrews, and Sergeant de Hoedt, all Burghers (descendants of European settlers). Antonipillai, the barber who shaved Yakadaya, Rajaratnam, the local apothecary, Sinnadurai, the Postman, Nataraja, the acting Magistrate of Anuradhapura, and Sivagurunathan, the doctor who examined the suspects, were all Tamils.
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Only my sister Bee, her husband Eddie, and my brother-in-law Martin ever visited us in our humble home. I must have given mother a heartache when she first heard that I had married. She always wanted me to select a Sinhala partner but had not met Fernie. Therefore I could understand the plight she would have been in. I made amends in later life by providing her a comfortable home and a daughter-in-law whom she loved more than those of my two elder brothers. Fernie and I were later married according to church rites on 4th September 1950 by Rev. Fr. Maximus Fernando at St. Michael’s church, Nalawalana.

One incident fresh in my mind was when we visited Bee and Eddie at in Ranna, a village in the deep South of Ceylon. The government Apothecary of the area, Dr Tissera, suggested going into the jungle to watch wild elephants. The three ladies in the group Mrs. Tissera, my sister Bee, and my wife Fernie were all in an advanced state of pregnancy, each expecting her first child. They readily consented to go on the trip without realizing its gravity, considering their condition. Having walked about half a mile into the thick jungle (munching various sour fruits) and laughing at Eddie’s jokes, we finally arrived at the foot of a huge Palu tree which had a rough platform called “messa” built at a height of over 30 ft. on a branch. A ladder made of jungle creepers was the only way up and down. It was getting dark, the time being about 6.30 pm, when the guide we took with us said we had to climb to the platform before the elephants appeared. Going back was out of the question since we might run into their path as the elephants were making their way to the water tank. But the ladies refused to climb and wanted to go back. It was only on hearing the trumpeting of the elephants approaching at a distance did they consent to climb through fear. Bee (the tom-boy she was) said she would go up first helped by Eddie and me; Fernie went up next with a lot of pushing and swaying of the ladder; Mrs. Tissera had to be virtually carried to the top with much difficulty as she was fairly stout. At last we were seven adults high up on the crude platform only 6ft by 4ft looking very silly but grateful to be above the elephants. In a short while a herd of elephants with young ones entered the water in full view about 50 ft from the tree and enjoyed themselves for over two hours giving us a clear view in the moonlit night. It was only after daybreak that seven hungry souls came down to stretch our benumbed limbs and walk back to the car, and home and straight to bed. In due course the three ladies were blessed with three sons: Premalal Tissera, George Wambeek and George Braine.

Me with Mrs. Tissera in 2005. She was well over 90 years of age and living with her son Premalal at Marawila. She passed away two years ago.

Our first child George was born at the Sandalankawa Maternity Home on 30th April 1950. I was still attached to Galgamuwa office. As our water was not suitable for drinking. I would carry a can of good water from the Railway station to prepare his Lactogen feed. Later, I bought a small Renault car from Mr. T.B. Subasinghe, the Member of Parliament for the area (he later became the Speaker of Parliament) and would drive home to Boralessa with the baby on weekends. My mother took a liking to him at once. He was a very loving child and was petted by everyone he came in contact with. As a little baby we took him to the shrine of Our Lady of Madhu once.

Our second son Roy was born on 28th April 1951 at Pannala, in the home of my father-in-law. From birth he was fragile and had to be weaned on Lactogen as Fernie was still working. Daughter Beaula was born in Negombo on 24th February 1957. We were all very happy at being blessed with a baby girl.

George & Roy, 1956


The family, 1960

George - First Holy Communion, 1956

Roy, First Holy Communion, 1957

War Days in Negombo

During the war, I was a student at Maris Stella College, Negombo. As the Japanese forces spread across Asia, gradually occupying Malaya, Singapore, and Burma, the expectation was that the next target would be Ceylon. At Maris Stella, the classrooms were located around a central quadrangle which had huge “mara” trees providing shade. As this threat of invasion heightened, the Royal Artillery commandeered a section of the buildings and quadrangle and installed four massive anti air-craft guns under the “mara” trees. Although this area was out of bounds for civilians and to school boys in particular, we could not resist the desire to have a closer look at the guns and also to enjoy the chewing gum and chocolates given by the English soldiers.

The Governor Sir Andrew Caldecott placed Ceylon on a war footing, organized civil defense,

imposed food rationing, and built camps to house soldiers brought down from other British colonies to defend the country, and evacuated school children to other schools away from Colombo. Lord Louis Mountbatten, the Supreme Commander, moved his Headquarters from New Delhi to Kandy. At daybreak on 5th April 1942, which was Easter Sunday, the Japanese launched their dreaded air raid on Trincomalee and Colombo. Many civilians were killed.
Immediately all boutiques and hotels were closed and their owners fled the city for safety to the outstations. People used every mode of transport available to leave their homes in Colombo: bullock carts, rickshaws, bicycles, wheelbarrows and push carts to take away whatever food and personal belongings they could lay their hands on, as long as they could leave before another air raid. Panic stricken mothers carrying children and men with heavy loads on their heads and backs fled the city. Vendors, who usually carried fish and vegetables in baskets slung at the ends of bamboos, carried little children instead. We had a large number of students from Colombo schools joining us at Maris Stella.

A recent photo of Maris Stella College

I had been at the college boarding house, but it was urgently needed to house the soldiers and had to close down as a result. I then moved into a house occupied by Mr. Andree, the Public Health Inspector, who was a midget of a man although his wife was a large woman, quite stout and at least 6 ft. tall. Her physique belied a friendly nature. They owned a Morris 8 Tourer X series car which was always leaning heavily to the left when Mrs. Andree got onboard. Three of us, Roy Lembrugan, Maurice Andree and myself, shared the only room upstairs. This room faced the side gate of Ave Maria Convent, the leading girls school in Negombo, and the three of us were frequently on the balcony waving to the girls who came to the gate after school to get into bullock carts or rickshaws to go home. They would always wave back at us. One day, Mrs. Andree, who had been in the garden below had seen the girls waving, came quietly up the stairs and surprised us. We all had a hearty laugh. The good lady advised us to concentrate more on our studies instead. Actually, the three of us were more interested in our hobby of collecting pictures of aircrafts and making models of them.

My father, who was the superintendent of Mawatte Estate, Dankotuwa, owned a house at Lewis Place, Negombo, named “Stanlodge” where we lived for some time. In those days drinking water was supplied to homes in 4 gallon tins at 3 cents per tin, brought to homes in bullock carts fitted with large wooden barrels. The carters would bring the required number of tins with water into the kitchen. Bread and buns were delivered by men carrying galvanized iron trunks on their heads. Then there were the Chinese riding sturdy bicycles who brought ready-made clothes made of China silk to the houses. The best salesmen were Indians who did their trade in carts drawn by a man. The cart would stop at the gate and the cloth brought to the house. One such person I could recollect was Mr. Coonghe, a portly gentleman in white cloth and coat, soft spoken and very gentle. Mother would serve him a cup of tea before he left after a sale. We also had a rickshaw in the garage in which we sometimes went to school. The rickshaw puller was an Indian called Pulle and lived in the garage. 

In 1944 my father had to be moved on doctor’s advice to a home close to the sea beach, and he lived in the home of Mr. Grenier at Lewis Place. I used to visit him once a week as he was convalescing. He moved about in the house on a wheel chair, the consequences resulting from a fall from a horse some years back.

I was in the Ceylon Cadet Battalion and attended camp at Diyatalawa in 1943, where we were given training in handling fire-arms. My registered number was 13331. Cadeting gives a very good training in discipline, obedience, punctuality, cleanliness and physical fitness in young men.

It was during this period that we first saw Royal Air Force fighter planes, the famous “Hurricane” and “Spitfire” which played a major role in the Battle of Britain. We were crazy about military aircraft and started a hobby of collecting pictures of planes involved in the war. I started neglecting my studies with the impression that I could be a pilot and fly a Spitfire to help defend the country. At a glance, I could give full specifications regarding type, engine, bomb capacity and armaments, number of crew and gunners etc., of any plane that flew at the time. I would advice my friends on how to make models of aircrafts in detail. I made models of the “Spitfire,” “Hurricane,” “Lightning Zero,” and “Dakota,” out of solid wood, and also a flying model out of balsa wood powered by a rubber band which could fly 10 to 15 yards.

My brothers, George and Benny, who had been admitted to St.Patrick’s College, Jaffna (I am not sure whose idea it was to send them so far) had sneaked out of the boarding and taken the night train home to Negombo. Ben had enlisted in the Ceylon Signals Unit and George was managing dad’s properties. My sisters, Lucy and Amy, were in the nursing profession attached to the Lady Havelock and the De Soysa Maternity Hospitals. The other sisters, Alice, Kate and Bridget, were at Holy Family Convent, Wennappuwa.

The British navy called for applicants to open a Fleet Air Arm Unit to work in co-ordination with the Royal Navy. I thought this was a good opportunity to achieve my ambition of flying and having obtained Daddy’s permission (although mother wouldn’t hear of it because Ben had already enlisted) went along with a few classmates for an interview at Maharagama. Only Basil Fonseka was selected as he was over 20 years in age. This was a disappointment to the rest of us as we hoped to work together. Although I loved flying and already had the basic knowledge of aircraft, my educational qualifications were too low yet for such a career. However the war ended and with it my hopes too came to an end. The camp buildings at Maharagama were subsequently used as the teachers training college.

Teddy, circa. 1948

School Days in Negombo

My formal schooling started at St. Mary’s Girls School, Negombo, on 12th January 1931, Admission No. 1174. Earlier, I had attended the kindergarten at the boy’s school, which was taught by my older sister Rosie. I was an incorrigible pupil and my sister could no longer tolerate me and had me transferred to the girls section under Rev. Sr. Imelda, a strict disciplinarian. I was the only boy in a group of about 30 girls.

My days at this convent linger in my mind for two incidents. One was when I had to stand with a girl named Gertie Silva under the red jambu tree in the playground in view of the whole school, our punishment for eating jambu flowers that had fallen under the tree. Everyone was shouting “Teddy Bear” at me. The other incident was when I acted in a school play as Tom the Piper’s son who stole a pig (a cotton specimen, actually) and had to run across the stage several times chased by a whole lot of girls and boys calling me to drop the pig, which I never did. All the students and their parents were shouting “Come on Teddy Bear.” Finally I was caught and received a thorough beating from the farmer.

I left the convent on the 28th February 1934 to join Maris Stella College. My sister Rosie, Sr. Imelda, and the Principal Sr. Annunciata would have shed a sigh of relief the day I left, but the girls in my class were sorry as much as I was to leave them. My school leaving report said “Conduct V. Good”, quite a miracle considering my behavior. It was probably written to please my sister Rosie.

At Maris Stella College
I entered the gates of Maris Stella College on the 1st March 1934, Admission No. 414. The principal of the school was Rev. Bro. Anthony. I was admitted to the 2nd Standard class of Mr. Elias Fernando. My older brother George left me in the class and went away, then I felt lonely and cried a lot. Fortunately my classmates came to my aid and I was feeling better.

We lived in Boralessa, a hamlet about 10 miles north of Negombo. I travelled to College with my sister Rosie in a tiny Austin 7 car. The driver Leander would wait until classes were over and then drive to the convent pick up Rosie. We would often spend some time at the Negombo beach before returning home. Rosie took a lot of pain to coach me in my studies and general upbringing. Being a strict disciplinarian, she would insist that I “mortify for God’s sake” (a popular phrase of hers) and take the various medicines like worm tablets, cod liver oil, and Scott’s Emulsion, which smelt like kerosene. In the evenings, she would sit beside me cane in hand and make me study the next day's lessons and do the homework until I felt sleepy and would go to bed. However, I was never a child prodigy and school life was a pathetic waste of time as I never took to studies seriously.

Rosie and I were for some time residing at “Daisy Dale” owned by Rosie’s friends on Sea Street and attending school. I mention this because of a terrifying incident that took place there. Those days, itinerant Chinese vendors would go from house to house selling cloth. One day, Stanley, a son of the house owner, had an argument with a Chinese vendor, who drew a long bladed knife and threatened to cut Stanley. He ran into the house and came out with a fierce dog that was about to attack the Chinaman. I was so scared that I ran into the bedroom and peeped through the window expecting the worst. Fortunately, Stanley’s sister Daisy intervened and pleaded with Stanley to let the man leave the house in peace. Daisy’s son Terry and his little brother who were playing in the garden were so scared that they ran into the house and hid under the family bed, and it took Daisy some time to get them out of their hiding place.

During my time at Maris Stella, Latin was a compulsory subject and I hated to go to Mr. “Bandi” Silva’s Latin class. Everyone called him by that nickname because he had a large potbelly and was a holy terror. During the Latin period I read books on aircraft instead. So, when Mr. Silva asked me a question I couldn’t answer, and my classmates would on purpose prompt a wrong answer which in turn annoyed Mr. Silva even more. He would then detain me after school to write 200 lines from the Latin unseen, and my friends would start playing marbles just outside the door to tease me. I was also poor in Mathematics and the good teacher Mr. Gomes would make me stand outside the class, which I gladly did so that I could watch the English soldiers of the Royal Artillery drill outside. (These were the days of World War II and a detachment of the Royal Artillery was stationed at Maris Stella.) My friends would then start munching my share of gram, wadai and plantains hidden in my desk. Elephant House “Ice Palams” (popsicles) in triangular paper packs cost only 5 cents each, but there were days we did not have that much pocket money left to buy any.

Another teacher we feared was Mr. Charles Silva (nicknamed “Giant Boxer”), a huge 6 footer Sinhala teacher who used the cane liberally. He wore a white cloth and coat and rode a 27-inch rim size bicycle. The Tamil teacher was Mr. Mirando and the boys who offered Tamil as a subject like Ben, Cyril, Austin and Nadaraja would play the fool in class. Rev. Br. Xavier, who was from Spain, taught Chemistry and his classes conducted in the science lab were another place for our fun. We had to cross the playground to get there and this gave us time to eat whatever eatables that were still left in our pockets. 

Ben whose hobby was radio receivers, would filch any useful item lying about in the lab like pieces of flexible wire, soldering lead, plugs, etc, helped by his friend Douglas. Mr. Manuel the lab keeper never detected the culprits. Ben would invite us home to see his handiwork and let us listen to the B.B.C. broadcasts of the war situation. His father and mother would sometimes peep into the room to see what the commotion was.

The subjects I loved were English Language and Poetry under Mr. Storer. When he read Wordsworth’s poems, like “A thing of beauty is a joy forever,” and Thomas Gray’s “An elegy written in a country church-yard,” it was music to my ears. I also liked Geography, Botany, Art, English and Singing. Our music teacher was Mr. Ferdinands, who would sit at the piano and we would sing “O Danny Boy” at the top of our voices just to annoy him and disturb the other classes. Sometimes the principal who had his office five blocks away would come and stand at the door to check what the racket was; we would then drop our voices and be innocent boys until he left. “Benja” as we called Ben affectionately, could not sing for toffee, and would play truant at the rear of the class. (By the way, Ben was the younger brother of actor and film director Premnath Moraes.) Cecil Lobo was a fair handsome boy and Mr. Storer would point at him and say “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” This made Cecil blush shyly and the whole class would make various noises to annoy the teacher. I stood up one day and said I did not agree with Wordsworth’s version and said,

“A thing of beauty is not a joy forever,
Its loveliness may increase,
But it shall some day pass into nothingness.”

The whole class clapped and laughed which in turn annoyed Mr. Storer, who sent me out of the classroom. 

Another prank in class was to make paper rockets and paper balls and throw them at each other in between periods before the next teacher takes charge. Ben sent a rocket which flew out of the door and struck Bandi Silva who was just then entering the room. He called Ben and gave him a thundering slap, and all the gram he had been munching flew out of his mouth onto the teacher’s face and clothes. Ben was in a state of shock and ran out of the class crying. Mr. Silva wiped himself, took his seat, and inhaled a copious pinch of snuff, wiped his nose with his filthy brown handkerchief and started the Latin class. Another day, while Mr. Silva was writing on the black board, Nadaraja placed the chalk-filled duster where the brown hanky was. Mr. Silva through habit stretched his hand and took the duster and wiped his nose. The chalk covered his face like a powdered baby and almost choked him.

Boarding Life
College boarding life was also very rewarding. Bro. Lawrence and later Bro. Aloysius would ring the bell at 6 am sharp and we would rush to the long bathroom with our soap, tooth-brush and towel in hand, to the row of twenty taps, wash and rush to the seven toilets, after which we would go back to the dormitory, get dressed, arrange our beds properly and go to the study hall. All this had to be done within half an hour. By 6.30 we were in the chapel for holy mass which usually took half an hour, then back for breakfast and studies, and to school at 8.15 am. Weekends were always the most enjoyable, ending with a walk to the sea beach on Sunday evening. Whatever discipline and etiquette I learned at that time has stood in good stead even in my old age.

Those days, there was a drain carrying dirty brackish water running around the playground bordering the side road. It used to have little fish and crabs and worms, the filthiest drain possible but we small boarders would get into the water whenever the boarding prefect was not watching, catch these fish and keep them in bottles on our cupboards.

The annual college feast was eagerly looked forward to by the boarders owing to the extra special meals served on this day which included cakes for breakfast, chicken for lunch, and ice cream for dessert. After Holy Mass, the students would assemble opposite the chapel and sing the college anthem followed by “God Save the King” and the cadets would march past saluting the College flag with Bro. Anthony standing below. The celebrations included a cricket and football game between the old and present boys.

Once during the school holidays three class mates and I cycled all the way to St Anne’s Shrine at Talawila and back, a distance of over 100 miles. In that bygone era the church had to be reached passing a stretch of thick sea sand two miles wide which no motor vehicle could traverse. We had to hire a donkey drawn cart which towed our cycles held upright by us in the blistering heat of a mid day sun, which in turn heated the sand; it was a penance by itself. Years later, Sir John Kotalawela constructed a metal road to the shrine.

At Maris Stella, the Rev. Bros. I remember are Bro. Anthony, Bro. Pascal, Bro. Conrad, Bro. Valentine, Bro. Lawrence, Bro. Xavier, Bro. Clement, Bro. Aloysius, Bro. Jonas, Bro. Neizer, and my batch mate Bro. Gerard. Bros. Valentine and Jonas being sports prefects took great pains to convert the marshy land into the perfect play ground it is today. My first teacher was Mr. Elias Fernando in Grade Two. Thereafter Mr. Peiris, Mr. Silva, Mr. Storer, Mr. Gomas and Mr. Charles Silva. They were all genuine teachers and devoted their whole life on their profession. Our cadeting officers were Mr. Vincent, Captain Jayamanne and Mr. Nicholas, and the sergeant was Denzil Fernando, later M.P. for Negombo.

Goodbye to School
In 1944, my father Charles Stanley Braine, who had been ailing for some time, passed away. He had been the manager of Mawatte Estate near Dankotuwa, and was loved by his subordinate staff and labour force who called him “Raja”. They wept bitterly at his gravesite. Daddy’s death was a sad and severe blow to me as a schoolboy still in Form III (which was Senior Prep) and I decided not to go back to school and thereby ended my mediocre “academic career”. A number of my classmates too left school in order to seek employment as the country was still on a war footing and times were hard.

On the last day in school, we all went to the sea beach and had a bath, when someone (probably it was Benja who was a tomboy), suggested going into deeper water on a catamaran. Everyone jumped at the idea though only Basil could swim. I was seated on a tin of army biscuits to prevent seawater getting into it. Having gone about a 100 yards in deep water we decided to turn back when the boat almost capsized, and there was panic as the boat rocked from side to side when turning around. Basil shouted at us to keep calm and managed to guide us back, the tin of biscuits floated away. Closer to the shore where the waves break, I jumped into the water and was nearly carried away by the under current when Basil pushed a log for me to cling onto. I experienced the fear of death by drowning and avoided going for sea baths ever after. Mother and sister Bridget were unaware of this when I went home in the evening like a good boy; my corpse might have been taken home instead. What a sad calamity it would have been to mother.

This is a rare photo, circa. 1943, of the morning assembly at Maris Stella College. The cadets and the students can be seen in the background. These huge “mara” trees, which still stand, circle the playground. Captain Jayamanne, the cadeting officer, could be seeing marching towards the main building where the Principal Bro. Anthony stood to take the salute. Teddy Braine was a cadet at this time.

An Idyllic Childhood

The dawn of the 3rd day of January 1926 was like any other day in colonial Ceylon. It was the first working day in the New Year. On this day in the sleepy village of Boralessa, a mother was in labour to deliver her tenth child. She had selected a small room away from the main house where the other children, seven daughters and two sons, were living. The children were enjoying the last few days of the Christmas vacation before returning to their boarding life in schools. The father, an Englishman and manager of a large coconut estate, had not arrived home yet.

I was born around 10.00 a.m. on this day, to the sound of children‘s hushed voices in the main house and the thunder of steam driven locomotives passing a mere 50 yards from the room, as the Colombo-Puttalam railway line was constructed through the land where the house was situated.

Life on the Estate

My mother, once a beautiful young damsel named Engracia Nonis from Jaela, had caught the eye of the handsome young Englishman, Charles Stanley Braine. He was a pioneer coconut planter living in a fine bungalow on Mawatta Estate near Dankotuwa belonging to Ceylon Tea Plantation Company Ltd. We children didn’t live on the estate, but I recall the family visiting daddy in the estate during school holidays. He had a lovely garden with flowers and fruit trees. Meals were served at a vast dining hall with large table with the Appu at hand serving. At night, the place was lit by Petromax and kerosene lamps, there being no electricity at the time. There was no radio either, and music was played on the gramophone. On warm days, during meals, Appu would stand at the end of the dining hall and pull a rope which was connected to a large canvas curtain hung above the table, swinging the “punkah” to fan those seated at the table.

At the estate, the mornings were always welcomed to the sound of coconuts being cracked for drying in the copra kiln. We would go there to eat the young kernel of the cut nuts. The fragrant smell of copra drying in the two kilns on either side, with rows of coconut shells burning underneath, always held an enchanting spell which any child would envy.

My mother Engracia Nonis

The dried copra in the estate would be bagged and sent in double bullock carts to the ferry to be loaded into “padda” boats to be sent to Colombo along the Dutch canal. Lorries were unknown at the time. I joined the boat on one trip which took 12 hours to reach Colombo, I had slept inside

the boat and was surprised to see the Kelaniya bridge the following morning.

My father Charles Stanley Braine

Recent view of the Hamilton (Dutch) Canal, Negombo

Padda boats on the Hamilton Canal

My parents lived their solitary estate life, at a time long before FM radio, television, penicillin, polio shots, frozen foods, contact lenses, or videos. Without family planning or the pill, families were large. The average would be about eight children. There was no radar, credit cards, dishwashers, air conditioners, gas cookers, and the moon was only meant for romantic pastimes. Man had not even dreamt of landing on the moon. Pizzas meant lunatics, there were Dutch burghers, never hamburgers. The country being under the British, the official flag was the Union Jack and the national anthem was “God Save the King”. Smoking was fashionable. Dad had been a heavy smoker in his young days but had given up the bad habit by sheer will power.

Life in the Village

My parents' second home was at Boralessa, a hamlet a few miles north of Negombo. The house was named “The Meet”. Being children of a marriage between a European and an Asian we were referred to as Eurasians. The village folk came to mother for minor favors and were always welcome and rewarded. The deep well in our premises was a perennial source of pure drinking water to households in the vicinity, even during the worst drought. And it was a familiar sight to see the women drawing water from our well, entering the garden through the little gate mother had provided for the purpose, and invariably indulging in gossip before leaving with the pots filled with water. Now and then one or two would come to our kitchen window and tell her the latest news of any incident that occurred in the village the previous night.

The most memorable person in the household was an elderly servant named Philip, a jack of all trades, whom we called “Pillah”. He would help mother in the running of the kitchen section and managing the pack of Fox Terriers that daddy had provided for the safety of the family. Pillah would now and then argue with mother over some trivial matter and leave the house saying he will never return again; but by nightfall he would sneak into the kitchen and help himself to a meal and sleep. By morning all was forgiven and forgotten and the kitchen life went on as usual.

During this period the railway had a rail-car service, a sort of baby train which stopped at marked crossings between stations. One such stop was close to our house. The drivers and conductors were very became our friends. Mother made various sweet meats and sent them through Pillah to the friendly railway staff. At times they kept the railcar halted till we took our time getting dressed to go to Negombo.

Mother with her children at Boralessa

It used to be a practice in our family (the children were mostly teenagers) to provide the village families a Christmas party in our garden at “The Meet.” A Christmas tree would be erected in the compound, decorated with streamers, balloons and parcels containing toys for the children and items of clothing for the elders. The women would bring out the large “rabane” that my mother owned, place it on a tripod and light a few burning husks underneath to heat the skin of the “rabane”. Five or six of them would squat around it and strike it with their fingers to various tunes. The children would be running around playing and waiting anxiously for the party to begin.

My brother Benny would be dressed in a Santa Claus suit complete with a white bearded mask and red cap, holding a long stake with lots of balloons, and would step out of the house to be greeted by the waiting crowd by clapping hands and laughter. The children would first be served with sweet meats and soft drinks. I was only about eight years at the time, and dressed in polka dotted pajamas as a Joker and helped Santa in his work. We would then lead the children up to the Tree and present them a gift to suit their age. The adults would then come up to mother to receive their presents. The sound of firecrackers, gramophone music and the clapping of hands would the festive mood.

The younger men were not forgotten. We had erected a “greasy pole” with a cash prize on top. The youngsters would try to climb the pole only to slip down, which in turn brought peels of laughter from the crowd. After many attempts one man would reach the top and grab the prize. This being the final item of the festivities, the children and parents would wish us a “Happy Christmas” and go away comparing each others gifts. This brought a lot of happiness to all of us.

This annual celebration coincided with the birthday's of brother Benny on the 24th and Daddy’s on the 25th of December. Daddy would order baskets of flowers and fruits from the hill country where uncle Phillips, his brother, superintendent of Penyland Estate, Dolosbage, lived. M.P.Gomes & Co. of Negombo, which was the only firm dealing in foreign groceries in the area, were instructed to give mother whatever she needed to celebrate a Merry X’mas with the ten children. Our home would be filled with presents, bon-bons, balloons, caps and a Christmas tree. After returning from midnight mass the children would go to wish daddy a Happy Birthday.

In those years motor cars were few and mother had a buggy cart for our travel to church at Bolawatte or Bandirippuwa whenever there was no service in our local parish, St.Anne’s church at Boralessa. The cart was also used to visit daddy in the estate, to go to the Dankotuwa office of the Medical Officer of Health (MOH) for worm treatment called “sinna podian” which daddy insisted all the children should take during the school holidays. The carters were Jamis, who married a relative of ours, Lily, and Simon, who fell for Aggie living opposite our home and married her in spite of her father’s strong objections. Mother also had her female relatives to help in the house and to be companions to the children.

Boralessa became famous later owing to the master playwright K. Lawrence Perera, who staged a passion play during the Lent season. His actors were the village folk－masons, carpenters, wood sawers－with hardly any education and even less talent. Mr. Perera trained them to be excellent actors. As a little boy I would accompany my sisters and brothers to watch the passion play which had become famous all over the country. Each show ran for over eight hours.

Daddy with three of my sisters and stepsister Mary

My sisters were fair and beautiful and had many admirers visiting our home. In keeping with its name “The Meet”, our home was always full of family and friends. Being the youngest I was the family pet, pampered and given all care and attention by my sisters. As a tiny tot I could recollect suckling at mother’s breast, which I doubt any other child would remember. I was called “Baba” (baby) at home and by the villagers and carried that name even as an adult.

The first motor car daddy bought for the family was a Galloway, which he had got down from England and bore the registration number S-264. We had a driver names Marshall. There were only two cars in the village at the time, and people stood by the roadside to have a closer look at it whenever we drove by. Children on the road would run crying into their homes and peep from behind doors. The car had a Union Jack flag fixed in front. Mother’s annual trips to the shrine of Our Lady of Madhu, over 100 miles from home, were made in this car. It made the trip with a human load of 10 persons, plus pots and pans, mats, pillows and provisions to last a week tied to the luggage carrier at the rear and stacked high over the hood of the car.

I took great pleasure and pride in driving this car from the garage to the well, washing it, then driving back to the garage, a distance of 50 yards which seemed to be like 50 miles, as I was only ten, and my feet hardly reached the clutch and brake pedals. Mother would stand at the kitchen door gazing in wonder and probably praying I would not crash the car into a coconut tree.

Subsequently this car was replaced by a Morris Isis Six, a sleek 6-cylinder engine X series. After a few years this too was sold and replaced by a Hillman Minx bearing number Z-7473 bought new from Rowlands Ltd. for Rs.3750 and delivered home by the firm in 1936. This car was commandeered by the Civil Defense Dept., after the Japanese air raid in 1942.

More than 70 years have passed, and the memories are still vivid.

My parents with my brother George, sister Alice, and me in the car

A Hillman Minx, circa. 1939

Me relaxing at home.

(Teddy Braine, a retired planter, lives at Seeduwa in Sri Lanka.)

An article based on this story that appeared in the Lakbima newspaper on 12 October 2008.