“What elections! We have voted in election after election. Our lives have not changed one bit,” says A. Christopher, leaning his palm against the low ceiling.
Ahead of elections to Sri Lanka’s Uva Provincial Council on Saturday, many like Christopher, are pessimistic about a better life — and not without reason.
His neighbour S. Lilly Teresa, who works in a tea estate near Bandarawela town, has a job only three days a week. “After the rains failed this time, there aren’t enough jobs.” Her daily wage fluctuates between LKR 650 (approximately INR 300) and LKR 450 depending on whether she meets the target of plucking 18 kg of tea leaves.
“My husband works as a guard in our assistant manager’s home. But he has to take up other odd jobs for us all to eat,” she says. With rice in Sri Lanka costing anywhere between LKR 80 and100, the income is nowhere near sufficient for the family of six that lives in a line-room home that the British allocated to their ancestors employed in the same estate.
A majority of the nine lakh “plantation Tamils” — the descendents of those the British brought from India in the early 19th century to work in their estates — are employed in tea and rubber estates across the Central and Uva provinces, contributing significantly to the country’s economy. However, the future of this community that makes up five per cent of the island’s population seems far from promising.
Campaign trail
Later that day, at a nearby public ground, a rally of the United National Party (UNP), Sri Lanka’s main Opposition, is in progress. Several thousands from the scenic Badulla district have packed the ground sporting the party’s colour, green.
In an apparent bid to reach out to this Tamil constituency, the party’s young chief ministerial candidate Harin Fernando switches to broken Tamil briefly in the middle of his charged Sinhalese speech. Badulla and Monaragala districts, which constitute the province that has nearly 10 lakh registered voters, are Sinhala-majority areas with a small percentage of Tamils, largely employed in the plantation sector.
“There is so much to do here in education and health, but the former Chief Minister has done nothing,” Mr. Fernando alleges. The incumbent Shasheendra Rajapaksa is his key opponent, contesting for the United People’s Freedom Alliance (UPFA), Sri Lanka’s ruling coalition that his uncle President Mahinda Rajapaksa leads.
The UPFA camp believes the best has been delivered. “The people of this province are really happy with this government. They don’t have to be, sorry to use the word, beggars anymore,” says Udith Lokubandara, a young UPFA parliamentarian who was distributing notebooks to a group of pre-school children in Haputale, a town in Badulla district, that morning.
The provincial poll is significant as the UPFA sees it as a precursor to the presidential elections likely early next year. “The President has been campaigning so actively, as if it were a national election,” says UNP parliamentarian Eran Wickramaratne.
The next afternoon there is a massive traffic jam on the road connecting Badulla to the neighbouring Monaragala. State buses sport a board reading ‘15’, Shasheendra Rajapaksa’s number, in bright blue, his party’s colour. They unload people near Wellawaya for the President’s rally.
Monagarala is one of the poorest districts in Sri Lanka. “Poverty has not spared Sinhalese or Tamils,” says Gobi of Monaragala People’s Development Foundation, a small community organisation, but the Tamils who work in the rubber estates are worse off. “They are such a minority here, like a speck of dust that no one notices,” says Mr. Gobi. “Many workers are waiting for their provided fund for nearly 15 years now,” says Muthuswamy Parameswaran, 53.Many like him have little faith in the unions most of which are affiliated to the Ceylon Workers’ Congress, formed in 1939 for rights of plantation Tamils, currently aligned to the ruling coalition.
“All we want is 20 perches of land to build a small home and live with dignity. We were brought here from India as slaves, and we have been toiling for years for Sri Lanka’s economy. We need a plot of land that we can call home.”
