Small made, but strong-willed and large-hearted

My mother was born in Kalehe, close to Galle town, to Aaron Suraweera and Catherina Wijesinghe. After a few years in the village school, she was boarded at the tender age of ten, at Rippon Girls School, Richmond Hill, the oldest girls’ school in Galle.

Amma had been a clever student and after the senior school examination she was selected to the Training College as there were no universities in Ceylon then. She obtained the second highest marks in the batch and was absorbed into the staff of St Clair’s Girls School, Wellawatte. After a year or so in Colombo, she yearned to return to her hometown, and had inquired from the Methodist Mission about vacancies in Galle. The European school manager had responded that there was a vacancy for a head of a mixed school with male teachers on the staff, which he assumed would be a difficult job for a young woman.

My strong-willed mother took the challenge. This was in 1916, and she became the first woman head of a mixed school – the Methodist Mixed School, Magalle. The school was managed by the Methodist Mission, but the staff was paid by the Government, and were entitled to a pension.

Arriving in the school, she was aghast to find that the children sat according to their caste, the high caste children on chairs and the low caste children on benches. She promptly contacted the manager and insisted that either everyone sat on chairs, or all sat on benches. The manager had no problem, but she had to tackle the parents and the neighbourhood. She got a carpenter to design a long desk attached to a bench of similar length where five to six students could easily sit together.

As expected, the parents and neighbours came to confront her. She informed them politely that if they did not like the new arrangement, they were free to remove their children. Protests died down and everything went on smoothly.

She was small-made and hence nicknamed “gammiris etay” –a black pepper seed small in size but hot in taste.

After school, she taught hardworking students for the Training College examinations, free of charge. It was her dream to see her students doing well. She also helped a few students from lowincome families with their school clothing, breakfast and lunch. Each morning, Amma took bread, margarine and jam tins to school for them.

My father, Peter, asked whether the Government would offer her a crown for her untiring efforts. When the Inspectors visited her school, they wrote letters of appreciation and recommendations of her good work which are still with me.

After retirement, we shifted to Hirimbura, about two miles interior. Our new place had plenty of fruit trees and my mother would keep basins of fruits and give to children from the school nearby when they passed our home after school. The less fortunate families would help themselves to del, kos and pol whenever they needed. Our drinking well was theirs as well.

If a village couple needed a car on their wedding day or to transport a pregnant mother to hospital, it was my mother who generously offered her car and driver.

She could cook, sew, do glass painting, crochet, beeralu, sing, and even play the church organ. She was an ardent gardener, and we had flowers in full bloom.

She passed away on November 21,1977 and was a useful human to the end. Even on the evening of her death, she was teaching my friend’s son, a primary student, English and Sinhala.

Although I am her daughter, she always called me Putha. She lived to see her two granddaughters and was very grateful for that. With all her goodness and generosity, she certainly would have gone through the Pearly Gates. My family miss her.

Your one and only putha,