A moonlit walk
Devaka Seneviratne-31 Jul, 2013
July 1983 was four years after I was born. Like many in my generation who were not directly affected by the events that took place, memories are hazy and disjointed. Black July is mostly remembered by faint memories such as the closing up of Lanka Medicals in Kandy, a shop that in those early days had a steady stock of Matchbox ‘dinky’ cars. My Uncle’s house in Bandarawela where we would spend holidays, had a neighbor whose car was set on fire. As a Sinhalese it is something that has at the back of my mind, made me ashamed to belong to the same people that were capable of such horrors, horrors that I only recently have fully come to know of and understand. Spending large parts of my childhood on tea estates surrounded by Tamils and going to a school where we had a mix of Tamils and Sinhalese in the same class made it so normal for us to believe that we were all just Sri Lankans and not divided by petty politics and race.