Appreciations
View(s):Memories of a magnificent matriarch | Nanda de Rosayro
With the death of Nanda de Rosayro earlier this month our family mourned its last matriarch and mentor. Aunty Nanda was my father’s older brother, Uncle Sonna’s wife and a surrogate mother to me and to all her nephews and nieces. She was there for us since we were toddlers and cared for us all as if we were her own brood.
In truth, she cared more about her family and her friends than she did herself. She never wanted to talk about herself, but would rather listen and lend a sympathetic ear. A seasoned diplomat could have taken some object lessons from her for her coolness under pressure and the careful way she weighed her words.
She said and did the right thing and avoided family politics or petty bickering. Rather she would play peacemaker. That was another of her great attributes that endeared her to the entire extended family as well.
Aunty Nanda was as house-proud as could be. Wherever she lived — from Colombo to the suburbs and from Anuradhapura to Nawalapitiya — she kept an immaculate and beautiful home. Obviously, everyone responded to her warmth because she always had an open door to her home with assorted friends and relatives visiting or living there as a matter of course. Family was everything to her.
What was important to her were the people in her life and the simple pleasures of time with family, friends and her main hobby — gardening. She loved gardening and we sometimes thought that she lived for gardening. I will always think of her with every beautiful flower that bloomed as a result of her green thumb. She was never above any kind of work.
Not only was Aunty Nanda capable and determined she was also extremely gifted. Renowned as an adept gourmet chef, her cuisine spreads were as aesthetically pleasing as they were scrumptious. And her Christmas and love cakes, pastries, ‘cutliss’, desserts and confections were so temptingly mouth-watering in fact that it constrained our wild bunch to raid her larder long before the festival.
Indeed she was one of the most accomplished women I have ever known. She could sew as well or better than any professional tailor. In those days of shortages and austerity her outfits were positively designer stuff. But as an adept dressmaker she only made clothes for her extended family and friends. The girls of the family, Vilma and Margo, my cousin Amber and sister Ann were very lucky growing up. Thanks to her expertise as a super seamstress they resembled little mannequins when they were marched off to church or other festive occasions such as parties or weddings.
And oh yes, who can forget how she medicated and bandaged cuts, used ice and eau de cologne to bring down swellings suffered by a pack of wounded hellions. It became a perennial pursuit for Aunty Nanda to scold and soothe as she attended to the injuries of hordes of reckless rapscallions who indulged in pushing breakneck stunts to the limits. Her favourite phrase for us was: “You incorrigible rascals.” If ever there was a guardian angel for delinquent daredevils it must surely have been Aunty Nanda.
She was ebullient, charming and fun to be around with. Most of all, she possessed a great sense of humour and laughed easily and often. And her laugh was positively resonating and infectious. A few years ago she suffered a dizzy spell and was sitting in the back pew of a church following a service. When I went to her side, she with twinkling eyes quipped: “Darling, I am getting giddy in my old age.” And we both laughed uproariously. The priest standing at the entrance walked up and asked us what the hilarity was all about. I said I was concerned about my giddy aunt. The priest wittily quipped: “The giddiness must run in the family!” Then all three of us exploded in raucous laughter.
She was also a resourceful person and could take charge of any situation at a time it mattered most. My uncle Sonna too was a man of immense generosity. He would invite hordes of people home. Aunty Nanda never complained and her meals and sharing captured everyone’s hearts while filling their bellies.
She was aware that there was for her a special place in the hearts of the scores of people whose lives she had touched in an evocative way by her graciousness, empathy and legendary hospitality. Aunty Nanda, we will all certainly miss you. You were emphatically the hostess with the mostest, always dishing up your delicacies served with love and generosity.
Now I imagine you ‘Up There’ along with Uncle Sonna playing his accordion and inviting the ‘saints to come marching in’ while you are serving at the Banquet of the Lord. I can also perceive you looking down from the Blessed abode blushing over my tribute with your beautiful, benign smile and saying: “That’s enough, son. It’s time to zip your lip!”
Gaston de Rosayro
My unforgettable treasure– Ammi | Swarna Mendis
Most of what I am is due to my parents. My Ammi Swarna Mendis was our angel and Thaththi Terrance was our hero. Even though it is more than seven months since she entered into glory, my mother’s memory stays deeply etched in the minds of many who were fortunate to know her.
She was much loved as she helped all who needed help; to us she is an unforgettable treasure. My earliest recollection was her in Watawala where Thathi was chief engineer of the CEB. I was four years and my siblings were boarded in Colombo. At night I remember kneeling by the side of Ammi at the piano with my doll singing either ‘Jesus Tender Shepherd hear me…all this day Thy hand has led me, keep me safe till morning light;’ or ‘Saviour teach me day by day; love’s sweet lesson to obey; sweeter lesson cannot be; loving him who first loved me.’ And then after being warmly hugged by Ammi and Thathi retiring all by myself to my room with my doll.
My siblings and I were fortunate to be taught short cuts in addition and subtraction so we could excel in mental arithmetic. She gave me a love to do my homework from Monday to Saturday without any pushing. She inculcated in us a love for nature especially at holidays in Haputale at our ancestral holiday home Hawarden. She made us appreciate the beauty of the mist rising over the valley below Haputale and Diyatalawa hills. She showed us wild flowers and got us to press them between blotting paper inside big books. She identified birds and their calls wherever we went. She even tolerated me having a squirrel which used to go out in the morning and come back in the evening. I got nicknamed ‘lenamissi’ by a domestic as this squirrel used to pop out from different parts of my clothing.
She got outfits sewn for my doll and dog; the latter wore clothing when we took it on holiday. We owe our love for music to her. When necessary she used to sit beside Akki and I at the piano and later whilst I played violin. My violin teacher, the late Evan de Fonseka, would say that Ammi should be given a medal for the way she drove the three of us while we did our individual activities and a supportive wife to Thathi, a busy chairman of the Ceylon Electricity Board. Further when I left the university she would accompany me to various estates as I worked as my father’s private secretary and to Lunuwila and Agalawatta to get advice from the director or his officers and also to the Inland Revenue Department.
She would take us to and from school, as Thathi used his official car only for himself. It is the compassion she had that made me love social service. Once I recall a friend of hers checking from her whether Father Beling of St. Michael’s and All Angels mentioned at a church in England of a mum playing the piano whilst her three children sang round her and the dad looked on proudly at them.
Yes, my siblings and I owe our singing and ability to improvise to her.
She wrote appropriate amusing theatricals or virindu and got us to dress up and perform at birthdays of Thathi and grandparents. She even turned Aiya into a magician so he could help in church fund raisers.
She taught her grandchildren, neighbours and relatives free of charge and even had some of them perform over the radio. Everyone she came into contact with loved her. Our domestics called her ‘Raththaran Walawamahataya.’ Her in-laws said ‘our brother was good to us but Swarna was special.’ She always gave a meal to a relative, old servant or beggar if they turned up at meal time.
Yet she hated to worry people. This was what led her to in her last wishes say that her remains were to be seen only by her children, grandchildren and their spouses, the priest to officiate and then that she be cremated.
When my seven-year-old granddaughter was told about the demise of her great grandmother, she said ‘Anney’! Many echo same and thank God for a beautiful life so well spent on this earth. I can only repeat what she said on the demise of her grandfather, the late Sir James Pieris. ‘Lives of great men remind us, we must make our minds sublime; and in parting leave behind us footprints in the sand of time’.
Lilanthi Fernando
A loving tribute to a special friend and man of many talents | Frank Samaraweera
A man whose parents were stalwarts of the Salvation Army, whose two sisters were Priya, a renowned counsellor, and Swarna, a teacher of repute; a man who was into the arts, enjoyed acting and was involved in the theatre from schooldays to adulthood; who had an excellent singing voice; an honours graduate in English from the University of Peradeniya, and the holder of degrees in marketing and business management; a man who reached the pinnacle of his career with jobs attached to the UN. Indeed a man of many talents.
But most importantly, a kind and caring person; this, in a capsule, is a description of our beloved friend, Frank Samaraweera.
I first met Frank when he brought his fiancée Kamala Fernando to our house down Milagiriya Avenue. We were immediately drawn to them both. Kamala stayed with us for over two years while she was teaching at Visakha Vidyalaya. This was around 1959. Frank was employed as a teacher at Carey College – they had both just graduated and these were their first jobs.
A keen and versatile actor, Frank played the role of Rama in Iranganie Serasinghe’s production of ‘Rama & Sita’. I also recall his mellifluous tones singing ‘Green Sleeves’ at our place. My parents and I loved them both and my mother (who was an excellent cook) often saved a portion of Polos curry (one of Frank’s favourites) for Frank when he visited Kamala in the evenings.
Frank visited Kamala almost daily. I remember well the day he got his first private sector job at Lever Brothers. He visited Kamala as usual and casually mentioned that he had had an interview with Levers a few days earlier. Later that evening – after Frank had left, it began to rain heavily and through the thunderstorm we heard our doorbell ring – this must’ve been around midnight. My father went to the door and was alarmed to see Frank standing there — by this time all of us had gathered fearing the worst. But Frank was smiling — and he told us the good news. He had on returning home found a letter from Levers informing him that he had got the job!
We laughed and cried (in joy of course!) and hugged him before he finally was given the chance to have a few quiet words with Kamala and leave for home.
The next surprise we had was when Frank turned up in a green Ford car a few weeks later! I am sure he would have liked to have taken Kamala for the first ride in his car but did he have a chance with me (a teenager at the time), my neighbour from down the road, and the little boy who lived next-door (both constant visitors to our place)! We leapt into the car and demanded he take us for ice cream. He did as he had no other choice. When we returned I well recall my parents telling us to get down from the car and give ‘this sweet couple’ just two seconds to themselves – we must have been incorrigible to say the least!
In a few years, Frank and Kamala were married and when Aruni and Asitha were born they became devoted parents and took on the busy role of running a house and family. When I married Sriyantha (Simon) I was delighted to learn that he had known Frank and Kamala at the Peradeniya University.
Frank continued to rise up the mercantile ladder. From being a senior manager in the marketing division of Lever Bros., he moved to Darley Butler and Company, then on to Reckitt & Coleman where he was appointed marketing director and later managing director. He held this position for over fifteen years and was also an independent director of Taj Hotel.
He then joined Shaw Wallace and Company as MD and was there for several years. He was awarded the Eisenhower Scholarship and soon after took on an overseas assignment with the International Planned Parenthood Federation aligned to the UN. In this line of work he was posted to Jordan, Pakistan, the US and Kenya. On returning to Sri Lanka in the mid 1990s Frank was invited to join a few companies as an independent director while undertaking some consultancy assignments.
In addition Frank was a member of the Steering Committee that founded the Sri Lanka Institute of Marketing in which he served as an office bearer and also as president.
We spent an unforgettable holiday with Frank and Kamala while they were in Nairobi, Kenya — exploring the magnificent game parks, touring the lakes and other areas of interest. We also enjoyed the somewhat unusual experience of attending a dinner theatre which was absolutely superb. We travelled with Frank and Kamala in their vehicle — it was such great fun.
Once they returned to Sri Lanka they were always a part of our family. We shall always treasure their love and friendship. Dearest Frank, Simon and I will always remember you. Now that you are reunited with your beloved Kamala may you be blessed with true happiness and peace!
Anthea Senaratna
A Cambridge flower that bloomed in Lanka | Joan Muriel Fareeda Macan Markar
My mother Joan Muriel Fareeda Macan Markar passed away peacefully in her sleep after a brief illness on September 22 this year. This is one of the saddest days of my life.
Fareeda, as she was known to her friends and relatives, was a remarkable woman; she was an erudite person who had a zest for life and knowledge. Stories of her experiences, when she first came to Ceylon in 1945 were both hilarious and interesting. I am glad to have kept a record of those precious recollections of life in a bygone era. My mother could relate a story about her life, friends and family using plenty of humorous anecdotes. These stories that span a lifetime offer us a storehouse of treasured memories.
I understand from her bridge friends that she could play a good hand of bridge. She looked forward to her Saturday bridge game; the tea, short eats and a bit of gossip. I know that her golfing mates will remember her fondly and will miss the camaraderie they shared over many years. I think most people who knew her found her to be helpful, understanding and a good friend.
My parents fell in love whilst my father was studying at King’s College, Cambridge. Their marriage was quite a phenomenon, in the days of the British Raj when mixed marriages were unheard of. In spite of this, she and my father had the courage to marry on June 17, 1941.
My father was from a conservative Muslim family, and my mother from an orthodox English family. These obstacles did not dissuade my mother and father. They came to Sri Lanka in July of 1945. This island nation remained my mother’s home from that time until she passed away. My mother was always so proud of her unique Permanent Resident Permit issued to her under the premiership of the late D.S. Senanayake.
Named ‘Fareeda’ upon her arrival to Ceylon (by my grandfather), she adapted gracefully to my father’s family who in turn embraced her with kindness and love until the end. While she enjoyed her life in Sri Lanka, part of her heart always belonged to England. She made many trips to her ‘beautiful Cambridge’ to visit her English family and friends. Fareeda had the good fortune to enjoy the best of two worlds — a frequent theme of her varied experiences with life.
Her memory was so acute and her ability to do crossword puzzles like the ‘wordy gurdy’ in a whizz was astonishing; even in hospital during her last few days, she wanted to read and solve puzzles. We will miss her knowledge on just about every topic from theatre, movies, music, world politics and especially history, for which her knowledge seemed limitless.
My mum had an eventful, rich life; she lived to see and enjoy her five grandchildren and her three great grandchildren. It was truly a sad day when she passed away. Joan Muriel Fareeda Macan Markar was the kind of person one rarely forgets.
Goodbye mom – I will miss you.
Your loving daughter,
Rohina Macan Markar