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