Spit and Polish

by Carl Muller

  Hansard 15-3-40.

  A member states the fact that ‘it was a common platform on which the ex-ministers of His Majesty the King stood (A member: some of them) and they are a homogenous board and ranted with the rest of them, “Long live revolution. Down with British imperialism”.’

  Orders of the Day April 2nd.

  A member moved ‘That this council . . . urges the people immediately to prepare for a nation-wide mass struggle against British imperialism.’

  Times of Ceylon 29-5-40 (relevant Hansard not yet published):

  The chief cecretary asked for a supplementary estimate for Rs 100,000 to meet the cost of acquisition of land for an Air Force base for the RAF.

  A Communist member opposing the vote said . . . ‘Was the RAF retreating East? They were always clever at retreating according to plan.’

  Another Communist said they could not see any useful purpose in such expenditure. ‘What the British need is not equipment or money but courage. The British are running away, retreating.’ The Speaker—’Order, Order.’

  ‘These are facts appearing in the newspapers of this country. If they are not facts, the government should stop such news. The British are a declining and decrepit empire.’

  A minister of the government said in council: ‘Ceylon would be a hundred times better off if the Englishmen did not set foot on our shores.’

  Seditious pamphlets have been broadcast in Tamil, Sinhalese and English throughout the island of which the following extracts are examples: ‘If all unite together and strike with help of the union the cruel and exploiting planters will feel stifled.’

  ‘The strike started by the estate labourers against the white planters is the most powerful fight today against the imperialist system.’

  ‘O comrades, if we fight united and unfurl the red flag all the exploitations will cease from today.’

  ‘It is revolutions that are wanted in order to secure freedom.’

  ‘The real war the British are fighting now is in Ceylon. For them, the remaining theatre of war, with any chances of success, is the plantations against the unarmed plantation workers.’

  ‘Workers of the world unite. Down with the police cruelty. May revolution spread.’

  ‘We should not support in any way this mastery over colonial people. Rather we should seek to overthrow this system and work for the day of our freedom that must arise from the downfalls of the contending forces.’

  ‘Don’t support this imperialist war!’

  And there is a sinister addition of a verse by Shelley, the last few words of which are underlined in black: ‘Forge arms—in your defence to bear.’

  The Sinhalese and Tamil Press publish sedition unchecked of which the following extracts from one paper of 8th March are typical. ‘John Bull (England) who is under the strong grip of war is unable to extricate himself and is strangled.’

  ‘Just as the Russian labourers did, the imperial war should be converted into a internal war and we should array ourselves to fight for freedom.’

  ‘The day has approached when your uncontrollable thirst for freedom should gush out from your strong heart, your eyes should redden with rage, you should beat the war drum and line yourselves for the fight.’

  ‘Boycott English goods. Effect general strikes. Bring deadlock in council.’

  ‘With such awful weapons, we will make the empire choke and bring it to a standstill.’

  ‘Down with war.’

  ‘Let the empire die off.’

  The Hammer and Sickle Flag has openly been flown in Colombo and to make the insult more galling, it was flown near the foot of the Victory Column—our largest War Memorial. My Lord, it was not so that this flag should be allowed to fly in Ceylon that those of us who are comrades fought.

  On the day of the national prayer the walls of the town of Moratuwa were plastered with posters saying:—

  ‘Down with the British’ and ‘Don’t pray for the Allied Forces.’

  In one instance a poster was exhibited on a church.

  On the day on which flags were sold for the Gloucester Fund, Communistic literature containing such remarks as ‘To Hell with the Gloucester Fund’ were distributed freely in the streets of Colombo by women in red shirts.

  ‘White dogs’ has become the regular expression used by some of the agitators when referring to planters and the police are frequently referred to as ‘dogs’.

  Field Marshall Lord Birdwood is well aware of Ceylon’s effort in the war of 1914-1918, and it is to be deplored that, owing to the present state of misrule in the island, it is practically impossible to allow any loyal men to proceed overseas.

  We all anticipate that, unless we have in the very near future a strong government that will take strong action to prevent this canker of unbridled sedition from spreading, we will soon have bloodshed and rioting throughout the island.

  In view of the foregoing facts we would respectfully request you to use your powers, with the least possible delay to prevent what was, and still is at heart, a peace-loving and intensely loyal population from becoming, owing to slack government and unbridled seditious leadership, enemies of our empire. My Lord, we think that we all, and especially those of us who are comrades, have the right to make this request.

  In closing we should like to express our appreciation of the loyal work of the Ceylon police force who have acted splendidly throughout, but whose hands have been tied by the weakness of those in authority and who all, officers and men alike, are well-nigh exasperated at the lack of backing they received.

  Colombo, 8th June, 1940.

  It wasn’t long after this that many of the ‘disloyals’ were arrested and some of them sent to prison. But the British could not quell the tide of disaffection. When the disloyals were released after their terms, they were feted by state councillors and given grand lunches and dinners. In Kandy, these ‘Martyrs’ were garlanded by the mayor and taken in procession through the streets. In Galle, the municipal council gave them a civic reception. The message to the British was clear. We don’t want you!

  Within weeks of their release, these nationalists were at it again. In November 1945 a pamphlet was seized in the plantation district of Kandy. It urged the people ‘to cut the throats of all white people and those blacks who work for them.’

  In 1943 a local minister had said: ‘We are told in the incomparable language of Winston Churchill that England is fighting for decency, for freedom, for democracy, for all these things that make human life worth living; that she is the outpost of civilization. Great heavens, what an outpost of civilization! . . . We have given them such assistance as we have been asked to give in this fight to preserve civilization which is fraught with hypocrisy and one which seems largely to consist of nothing but humbug . . . (we) must request the state council as well as the general public to cease giving further assistance to the war effort . . . already the local administration has decided to inform all local bodies that contributing to war funds will be banned. Why should we sacrifice our blood and money for a nation which is trying to ruin the existence of the Ceylonese?’

  Another minister said, ‘The British started the war with very noble and pious protestations of fighting for equality and democracy. Democracy meant equality, but to them equality meant only equality for white faces.’

  It is easy to see how resentment ballooned. It was well accepted that the British were absolutely out of sympathy with the people of Ceylon. In a way, this was painfully evident. There was, for one thing, a tremendous superiority complex that the British wallowed in. Many of them had been leading lives in England far below the type they became accustomed to in Ceylon on inflated salaries. Furthermore, the type of Britisher sent out to occupy various positions in government service was not the best of the litter.

  Things got so bad, so vituperative that there was a motion to give notice to the British government that Ceylon would be functioning as an independent state. A member of the state council demanded that they no longer rec
ognize the British government and no longer recognize the governor.

  Things had come to a boil. Peculiarly, Japan today has really extended its economic sphere within which Sri Lanka is a most dependent member. Ceylon was never really asked to stand up and be counted during the Pacific War. The British left that to the Americans, and the Americans did not come to rule Asia. The Americans simply wanted to bring Japan to her knees. What Ceylon thought or did not think mattered little in the awful events that marked the onset of the nuclear age.

  Only one thing really mattered. Britain had to pull out. Just as Japan’s Rising Sun was humbled, the sun over the British empire also set. It was proudly claimed that this could never happen. But it did.

  Asia plucked the reins from the white man’s hands and kicked him off the driver’s seat!

  47

  Of Illegal Boardings and Parading for the Police and the Fouling and Flying of Flags

  The duty officer was very annoyed. ‘Charges for all of you!’ he bellowed, even as the decrepit bumboat pulled alongside at seven in the morning with its bunch of awful-looking sailors.

  In Galle, the police, the postmaster, the Army camp Commander, the harbour master and the chauffeur of the official car provided to take Victor wherever he wished to go, were exchanging notes. The police said that three constables had been severely beaten. The manager of the Sydney simply moaned and wrung his hands. He wanted to give the Navy a bill. There were damages, he said darkly. The postmaster urged the police to count the windows of his post office. The harbour master was miffed. Maldivian seamen had rushed to complain. They had been boarded, they claimed, by pirates who had huffed at them like manatees. The CO’s official driver kept saying, ‘and what about me? What about me? Just minding my own business. Came and hit me and threw me in the sea.’

  The Army camp Commander growled. ‘Came to ask to sleep in the barracks. Who are these fellows? When the sentry said to go, said they’ll fight the whole Army. Pah! Scoundrels! Pah!’

  There is nothing more frustrating than being a sailor with no ship to go back to at night. The boys had spent too much time wrecking, as best they could, the Sydney Hotel. They had hoped to hire a boat. Chickera had said that there was no real harm in even stealing one and Ryan had complained for the sixteenth time, ‘Why the fuck can’t the Vijaya come in and berth instead of lying outside, I don’t know!’

  They had found no boats, but they did find a dark Standard Vanguard—Victor’s official transport sent from Colombo to take him on his visits to town, return calls on the mayor and other dignitaries. The driver, a stoker mechanic named Bala did not like his assignment at all. He had to stay with his vehicle day and night. He had to park on the pier and be ready to chauffeur the captain and other officers who came ashore and said, ‘Let’s go.’

  Bala had smoked his umpteenth cigarette and was dozing off when there were several rude thumps. He saw a mob of uniformed men who had no business to be ashore. He opened the door and swung a leg out.

  ‘Hey, can we sleep in the car?’

  Bala pulled his leg in, made to slam the door, but Ryan held it open, leaned and poked a beefy face inside. ‘We missed the last boat,’ he said.

  ‘But you’re drunk. And how to sleep inside this?’

  ‘Buddy, we’re not asking. Simply telling. We have nowhere to go. Now past eleven also.’

  ‘But—but this is the CO’s car. How to sleep inside this? Go and sleep in the town.’

  Ryan hauled the man out. ‘One thing,’ he said chattily, ‘useless asking anything from anybody these days.’

  It was only a short punch. Even the sound was decidely a crisp biff! and Bala spun off the jetty, hit the water with a wail.

  ‘You think he’ll be alright?’ Carloboy asked, ‘Can’t see him.’

  ‘Better find and pull him out,’ Aubrey said, ‘some buggers cannot swim with shoes on.’

  Daft was peering over anxiously. ‘He’s there alright. Can’t understand a word he’s saying. Have a rope or anything?’

  ‘Where rope, men, tell him to go near those steps where the boat landing is. There, near that bollard.’

  Bala made for the steps and Chickera hauled him up. The man dragged himself to the car and plopped down beside it. He was a palpitating bundle of wet clothes. ‘I’ll report you,’ he croaked.

  ‘Up yours,’ said Hughes pleasantly and they wandered back to town.

  Carloboy said, ‘There’s an Army camp somewhere here, no? Let’s go and ask for a place to sleep.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Arnie.

  They were run out by an enraged sergeant-major. ‘Out! Out! No coming inside here looking like that!’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like you! That’s what!’ The man blew a whistle. Sentries marched up with rifles. ‘Go away!’

  The men stood at the concrete and barbed wire. ‘Come out!’ Ryan invited, ‘You and your bloody Army! Come out!’

  ‘Go away!’

  ‘Just come out! We’ll show you what the Navy is!’

  ‘Go away! Otherwise will come and arrest you!’

  ‘So come and arrest! Break your bloody heads! Come an’ arrest if you can!’

  After more pleasantries, they made several obscene gestures and drifted away. They had nowhere to go, and all they could think of was the port. It was, at best, a gateway to the Vijaya. They regarded the Maldivian sailing vessels that lay, bunched together, then, as if on signal, plunged into the water, swam the short distance to the first of the buggalows.

  Pandemonium ensued as they heaved themselves on board. The Maldivian crew jabbered in Maldivian and the boys said ‘Oh fuck’ and there were no interpreters. Carloboy tried mime. All they wanted was to stretch themselves on deck, go to sleep. They were wet, tired and sleepy. What was more, they were no longer drunk. Oh, they were drunk, but not any more. The Maldivians did not understand. One of them actually brandished a firebrand. They had been cooking something on the fo’c’sle and skipped agilely around saying ‘Shoo!’ in their lingo. Others from other boats also leaped in and joined the dance.

  ‘Oh come go,’ Hughes spat. ‘Buggers all look mad to me.’

  Carloboy sat on the grimy deck. ‘What? Swim again? For what? Just sit and wait.’

  Chickera sat. So did Arnie. The Maldivians began to gibber.

  ‘Ask them for something to drink,’ Hughes said.

  ‘How? They don’t know any bloody thing we are saying.’

  ‘So you’re just going to sit and wait? Buggers might cut our throats if we fall asleep.’

  The rumpus was extraordinary, and it went on even after the boys slipped back into the water and swam dejectedly to the pier. Hughes clobbered a customs guard who had no business getting in his way, and they were back in the street.

  They were disturbed by a stray dog at four in the morning, having gone to beddy-bye on the pavement. Aubrey glared around. ‘Let’s go to the post office.’

  Carloboy found some of his senses. The sky above had a sickly look. He yawned, then patted his pocket. Yes, he had letters to post. He pulled out the crumpled, wet and pulpy mass of what were three letters and looked at them. ‘You think they will deliver these?’

  ‘So first must get stamps, no?’

  Aubrey said he wanted stamps too. ‘Where—where’s the bloody post office?’

  Naturally, the post office was closed. Only a watcher dozed on the steps. He took one look at the boys and fled with a yell of alarm.

  Aubrey banged at the shutters. ‘Oi! Open up! I want some stamps.’

  But answer there was none, and this wasn’t very odd because post offices are not staffed at four in the morning. Not even in Galle. This infuriated Ryan who never liked windows. He shattered a pane with a blow. The effect pleased him. It encouraged the others to show their prowess too. Soon, they were trotting around the building smashing every window they could reach. Carloboy had angry slits in his wrist and Hughes had criss-cross cuts from knuckles to forearm. They then returned to the jetty wher
e they found an early bum-boatman bailing his boat.

  It looked flimsy, the boat, but he was a cheerful soul and assured that he could take them all if they promised to sit still and not stand up to make speeches or anything. They piled in and the man rowed with a will. He wanted twenty rupees from each, but on being pronounced mad, settled for ten.

  ‘Place them under close arrest!’ the duty officer snapped. ‘Six months jail for each of you! We have had enough police already!’

  Nathali was also under guard. He gave a whoop and a wave.

  ‘What the hell did you go and do?’ Carloboy asked.

  ‘Nothing. If do nothing these buggers get so excited, how if I really go and do something?’

  Nathali had decided to explore. He had taken a hired car outside the Dutch Fort and told the driver, ‘Go to house that have girls.’

  The driver took Nathali to Hikkaduwa, up coast, to the home of a most respected schoolmaster who had three daughters. The house was on the Baddegama road, beside the railway station. ‘There have nice girls,’ he had said, ‘can do jiggy jiggy.’

  Nathali had walked in. He had been run out. He had, it was said, assaulted a porter on the railway station platform although he hadn’t the foggiest why. He had then done a John Gilpin through Hikkaduwa with half the populace at his heels, schoolmaster leading.

  This race was conducted in two phases. On the second leg, the populace was chased by Nathali and the schoolmaster was found under a coconut tree with a broken front tooth and a very tender jaw. A police jeep gave chase to the hired car Nathali had leaped into but the driver was a sport. He grinned and stood on the accelerator. They had gone off the road past the big bridge and wandered along the beach to a small wadi where they drank toddy and ate prawns and Nathali had found his way back in time for the 10 p.m. boat, sans cap, sans left shoe, his pockets full of sea sand and his trouser buttons undone. He also told the quartermaster to stuff his standing load and this, to the duty officer, was wholly unacceptable.