“In Sri Lanka, much of the media carried articles on Gandhi, and his sayings and doings. It wasn't hard to grasp the inferences. Perhaps, after 60 years of independence - including 20 years of ethnic strife - there was an expectation that Sri Lanka's people would move towards the same kind of change as across the waters.”_____________________________
by: Amjad Mohamed-Saleem
(March 12, London, Sri Lanka Guardian) I originally sat down to write this blog in late January, planning to reflect on a symbolic period for Sri Lanka and the region. The end of January marked 60 years since the death of Indian freedom hero Mahatma Gandhi, and the beginning of February was the 60th anniversary of Sri Lanka's independence.
Maybe it was just me, but I sensed some sort of hope and anticipation in the air. In India, the second freedom struggle to end poverty and the caste system had just been launched at the appropriately named Gandhigram (the university founded on Gandhi's teachings).
In Sri Lanka, much of the media carried articles on Gandhi, and his sayings and doings. It wasn't hard to grasp the inferences. Perhaps, after 60 years of independence - including 20 years of ethnic strife - there was an expectation that Sri Lanka's people would move towards the same kind of change as across the waters.
As February 4 rolled around, official government celebrations were overshadowed by the threat of suicide bombs. Most people escaped to the beaches down south, taking advantage of the long weekend. "Independence? From what?" remarked some of my friends when I asked them what they were planning to do for the day.
My reply went something along the lines of how independence meant freedom from the yoke of colonialism and working towards a new Sri Lankan identity people could wear with pride, free from oppression and injustice, but that there was still a way to go despite setting it in motion 60 years back. This was met with even more cynical responses: "You are just some romantic idealist Amjad! That's the job of the government! Never going to happen!"
In reality, people were more concerned about getting ready for Valentine's than Independence Day. Shops stocked cards and heart-shaped boxes of chocolates; radio and TV stations advertised "Valentine's Night" specials; and hotels promoted special offers. One five-star hotel was touting an all-inclusive Valentine's night offer, for the princely sum of $2,000 - even more shocking, people were actually buying it.
And so for me, hopes for possible change turned to disillusion. How could people spend that much on a silly concept night when others were struggling to cope with 24 percent inflation? How could they be so insensitive to suffering in the conflict-torn north and east?
Of course I knew this was the work of the "Colombo Crowd" - that rare species of established and nouveau rich, who roam around Colombo in their perspex carriages and live in ivory towers - also to be found in many other developing countries. Nonetheless, I could not comprehend how even they could be so indifferent, insensitive and oblivious to their neighbours' plight.
'Nothing To Be Proud Of’
Sadly, this apathy is symptomatic of a bigger disease in Sri Lanka. The capacity to not give a damn means Sri Lanka can never really progress from the abyss it found itself in 60 years ago. When you ask most Sri Lankans, what they're proud of, their response is often blank or they say, "I was born Sri Lankan, so I have nothing to be proud of, I just accept it".
With that kind of attitude, how can the country move forward? When I first came back to Sri Lanka, I knew it was going to be a challenge. "So Amjad, you are an engineer from Imperial [College, London]?" was the common question, swiftly followed by, "So what the hell are you doing back here in Sri Lanka?" Sometimes they went further, asking, "What is an educated person like you doing working for an international NGO? Are you on some personal crusade for redemption?"
The main puzzle for most people is that they can't understand why I would want to "sacrifice" my life in Britain to come back to Sri Lanka. When people are desperately trying to leave the country or send their children abroad, it seems strange to them that someone else should be making a strategic choice to come back.
Therein lies the crux of the problem. In recent years, Sri Lanka's brain drain has been evident and intense. While one can make a case for people leaving to seek better fortunes elsewhere, it's also true that now, more than ever, Sri Lanka needs its human capital to stay.
"Why?" you might ask. Of course, as development and humanitarian workers, we're engaged in trying to bring about change: change in people's lives; an improvement in their economic status; a shift in attitudes towards respect and acceptance. But for me, with Sri Lankan roots, it's even more personal. It's about showing that bringing peace and development to Sri Lanka is the duty of its children regardless of caste, creed and religion. Yet how can we do this when so many people are apathetic?
Decades on, the words of India's peace apostle remain remarkably relevant. Gandhi famously said, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world." Here in Sri Lanka, why should we bother if so few people seem interested in change?
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Amjad Mohamed-Saleem classifies himself as a 'global citizen' - born in Nigeria, educated in Ethiopia and Britain, and now based in Sri Lanka. Following careers in engineering and management consultancy, he joined British relief and development agency Muslim Aid in April 2005. He was posted to Sri Lanka to work on reconstruction after the Indian Ocean tsunami and is now country director. He also oversees Muslim Aid's Bangladesh operation and coordinates its international disaster response unit. On the rare occasions when he's not globetrotting or on the road in Sri Lanka, Amjad enjoys books, music, socialising and going to the gym.)- Sri Lanka Guardian
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