Resultados de las entrevistas a profundidad

Phyllis' father was a senior bureaucrat who, as a member of the Ceylon Civil Service, was stationed in many towns in Ceylon. He eventually retired, left Ceylon and lived in Sydney. In this article Phyllis describes some of her early experiences.

My memories of Ceylon are always connected with the houses we lived in and my earliest memory is of the house in Wellawatte on Galle Road. It was called `Homestead' and I was about five years old when we lived there. It was a typical Colombo house of that period and had a wide verandah running the full width of the house with steps leading down to the portico. The verandah opened into the drawing room and then an arch led into the dining room. On either sides were doors leading to the bedrooms. At the rear was another ‘L’ shaped verandah off which were the kitchen and the servants' quarters. I probably remember this house well because I fell down the steps and broke my hand. There was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing to the doctor's to have it set, but all the fuss was just what a little girl wanted and I enjoyed it in spite of the pain.

We moved, a few years later, to Francis Road. This house was very similar to the other and my memories of the time we lived there were happy ones. All my grandparents lived near us, my father's parents lived opposite us, and my mother's parents lived further down the road. Behind us lived my cousins. We played with them and life was a happy one.

We next shifted to Havelock Town. It was a large two-storeyed house with many bedrooms and bathrooms and a lovely balcony over the porch. Like the other houses at that time, there was no sewerage. `Thunderboxes' complete with wooden boxes of saw-dust was all we had. Baths were zinc and there was no hot water. When we wanted a hot bath, -a great big cast-iron kettle was boiled and brought up the back stairs by one of the servants. This staircase, which was outside the house, allowed the 'bucket man' to get to the toilet buckets once a day and clear them. Most houses had no basins in the bathroom. The bedrooms had washstands with china jug and basin, receptacles for soap, toothpaste and toothbrushes and slop buckets to empty the dirty water into.

We lived in this house for a few years and it was from here that I first went to school. I have happy recollections of this house, of being dressed in the eve-

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nings, and going to the park with the ayah, of cousins and neighbourhood friends coming over to visit or spend the day and the many `made-up' games we played.

A few years later my father was transferred to Kalutara and my sister and I were packed off to boarding school. The house in Kalutara was similar to the others we had lived in. It had two storeys and was built on the old Dutch fort, complete with ramparts and sentry boxes. There was also a stone tomb at one end of the garden. A cousin who often stayed with us was convinced that the place was haunted and she swears she saw a Dutch soldier in full armour in her bedroom one night.

Holidays in Kalutara were wonderful. We had many friends. The parents would get together and organise picnics and parties. Christmas was especially

enjoyable. The Church was within walking distance and after the Carol service all our friends would come over and what a party it was with the singing and the games. It was about this time that I first became aware of food and this was especially at Christmas time. There was the delicious Christmas cake, breudher and Dutch Edam cheese (a whole ball of it), turkey and ham, Christmas pudding, 'bon-bons', crackers (Chinese fireworks), and all the lovely presents from Santa Claus. My father would take me shopping on Christmas eve and many were the wonderful things we would get for the dinner and Christmas parties. Life was truly wonderful for an eleven year old!

Dad was next transferred to Matara. That house was at the top of Brown's Hill and the views were magnificent. On one side the Dondra Head light house cast its beams and on the other side were the views to the Deniyaya hills. Holidays were again wonderful. Matara, being a stronghold of the Burgher community, gave us many friends and parents would arrange picnics for us to Dondra Head and to Weligama with its magnificent beach.

We next moved to Anuradhapura where we lived for three years. The house was in the sacred 'old town' and was old and infested with bats. A light was kept burning all night to keep the bats away but we never could get rid of the smell of them. I vividly remember the geckoes, some like little crocodiles, and the monkeys that came down to drink from a great carved rock near the house. These monkeys were always well organised and queued one behind the other for their drink. Friends were few so we had to make our own amusements. We spent a lot of time wandering around the ruins of the ancient city of Anuradhapura, which was over two thousand years old. There were no picnics here so, with our parents, we explored the places of interest in the district and visited Sigiriya, Mihintale, Polonnaruwa, Trincomalee and all those beautiful wewas (man-made lakes).

After my father retired we moved to Kandy. I later moved to Colombo for work and it was from there that I married a 'tea planter' or manager of a tea plantation. Life on a tea plantation was very different. It was a self-contained little world, very different to anything I had known before. There were three bungalows (houses) on the estate for the managers. The biggest and the best was for the Manager himself and the others were for the two S.D's. (sinnadorais or assistant managers) with the more senior having the bigger and better bungalow. We first lived in the 'small' bungalow. It was very comfortable with a drawing room and dining room, two bedrooms with attached bathrooms, and the usual kitchen, pantry, store room and drying room: We had an Aga

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type cooker, connected to a hot water tank, so we had hot water on tap. I fell in love with the life.

There were glorious views on every side and the garden was full of flowers. Distances were great, along narrow, winding roads, often unmade, but we made many friends. A few years later we moved to the bigger S.D.'s bungalow and this was larger and more comfortable. We had an additional bedroom and grew our own vegetables and kept poultry. Both of us loved animals so there were dogs and cats that regularly produced puppies and kittens. The plantation was high in the hills of Uva province and the social life among the planters, both European and Ceylonese, was good. Two English families in our district became good friends. The P.D. (perai dorai or senior manager) and his wife, when we were newly married, often invited us for lunch or dinner and would have me stay overnight when Mervyn had to go away for Planters' Association meetings. We had no 'hang-ups' with regard to the European planters so were able to hold our own.

We had many friends among the Ceylonese planters. Often they would telephone, or we would telephone them, and say 'we are coming over' and the reply was 'Fine, I will get the cook to add more water to the soup'. We often got together in one another's homes and spent a wonderful day together. Often we would organise a picnic to the east coast to either Kalkudah or Arugam Bay, about a hundred miles away. We would leave home about 5 a.m, meet at a prearranged spot, and a little later halt at a boutique for hoppers and kata sambol. After a very relaxing day on the beach and in the sea, we would return home late at night. Another favourite haunt was Lahugala Tank, an artificial lake. It was very beautiful, peaceful and relaxing. The waters of the lake and the surroundings were full of bird life. All of us were interested in birds and this was encouraged by W.W.A.Phillips who resided in Uva, was an authority on Ceylon birds, and wrote many books about them. Most of the planters and their wives were bird watchers and we would remain at Lahugala until dusk to watch the elephants come down to the water's edge to drink before we returned home.

Thursday was 'Tennis Day'. Each week one of the wives was responsible for organising afternoon tea and it was always something special like homemade bread and scones, cream and butter, cakes and sandwiches.

Those who played tennis were on the courts and the rest of us would sit around gossiping and many were the reputations torn to shreds! After afternoon tea there was more tennis and then we went on to the 'pictures' in the tin shed that was the local cinema. 'Tennis meets' were held about three times a year and all the ladies contributed to the sumptuous meals. The party would go on all day and well into the night and many were the men who found it difficult to stand straight. The next morning was the usual 'hangover'. Life was good to us. We didn't pick-up the tennis balls, for there were paid 'ball-boys' for that purpose, and cooking and housework were the responsibility of the domestic help. The gardens were the responsibility of the gardeners and the washing was done by the dhoby. He collected our dirty linen and clothes and brought them back a week later beautifully clean, starched and ironed.

That life is now like a dream. I am glad I was able to experience it. When we left, we left everything we loved behind, the country where we were born, our friends, our favourite haunts, the beautiful hills, the beaches of the east coast, the jungles, all those places where we had spent many happy hours. Settling

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down in Melbourne was not easy for there was little money, we had to do everything ourselves and the week-ends were spent cleaning and washing. I was too busy to become 'homesick' or to regret the decision to come here. We just looked ahead and, after 35 years, do not regret the decision...but there are times when my heart aches for the 'places and faces' we knew and loved but Australia is now truly home.