Sri Lanka has long been synonymous with fine tea; witha plantation history dating back to 1862 to an export value estimated to reach US$ 2,500 million this year, the humble beverage is the island’s pride across the globe. Accounting for nearly 14% of the country’s total export earnings, it is among the nation’s most valuable and prized produce.

This journey to international fame begins in the central hills, ‘Mayarata’, as it was called, the Country of Illusions. Once thickly forested and inaccessible to humans, settlements were limited to open valleys and the city of Kandy. The British cleared these acres of virgin forest and, once their experiment with coffee crops failed, began planting tea; the rest is history.

However, history has and might continue to overlook the most important cogs in the large machine that is the tea industry of Sri Lanka; the people without whose tireless labour this process would grind to a screeching halt – the workers on the tea estates.

Descendants of South Indian labourers first sent here in the 19th and 20th centuries to work in the first British plantations, the ‘up-country Tamils’ or ‘Indian Tamils’ constitute 4.2% of the Sri Lankan population.

Over the years, they have been marginalised by the very country that they devote all their energy to. The Sinhala nationalism that fuelled the Ceylon Citizenship Act of 1948 set such precise terms of identity that even though they had lived on the island for decades, lack of proper documentation meant they were not recognised as citizens of Sri Lanka and left stateless.

A handful of agreements between India and Sri Lanka over next few decades laid out plans to repatriate some while granting citizenship to a select few. Finally, it was the J.R Jayawardene government that came into power in the 1970s that revised the Citizenship Act, adding in a Special Provisions in the form of the Grant of Citizenship to Stateless Persons of Indian Origin, accepting all remaining Indian Tamils as citizens of Sri Lanka, equipping them with a nationality and a vote.

It has been almost 200 years since the first migrant workers made the hill country their home. But is it really a home?

The ‘line’ system that exists in estate housing is the same one established in the late 19th century – a row of small houses, each more similar in size to a single room, that share a roof. These were initially meant to be temporary shelters for the workers yet estate management over the years never sought to develop the living conditions of the workers.

Each family is allocated one of these ‘houses’, meaning everyone lives in uncomfortably close quarters, severely distorting family dynamics. Should a child marry, reproduce and come to live in his/her parents’ house, as it does frequently happen, the situation worsens.

Yet the estate worker is not the owner of his house, even though it is that small. Since the plantation land belongs entirely to the estate, the worker is not provided with a deed or permit that proves that the house is his/hers. Should he plant a tree outside the line, even its fruits would technically belong to the estate management. Because of this system, where the housing comes under the control of the management, individual houses are not provided with an address. This results in administrative issues, problems for the police and issues during voting.

The lack of an address also means important correspondence doesn’t reach the house – all mail must be addressed to the estate’s head office and is distributed at the management’s convenience. Workers don’t receive time-sensitive EPF notices, students who persevere enough to complete their AL education don’t receive their university letters in time and most personal correspondence never reaches the person it was meant for.

Estates, being private lands, do not fall under the Pradeshiya Sabha Act therefore local authorities do not have the power to provide addresses in these areas as the roads too are the estate’s property; their maintenance is the responsibility of the estate.

Tea contributes to a large portion of Sri Lanka’s export revenue yet the infrastructure in place in the tea-growing regions is hardly conducive to the smooth production of the main export of the country. Taking into consideration how important transport is in the tea process, there has been no development of estate roads undertaken by the respective estate management.

Estate schools extend to Grade 5 or Grade 9 in most cases and students who wish to study beyond that resort to making the journey from the estate to the closest city to complete their education. Kids talented in sports or the arts don’t have as many options for progression in their fields as a child in the town would. While most schools would employ teachers who are specialists in their subjects to teach children, some of the young women appointed to estate schools only have an Advanced Level qualifications.

“There’s one bus; if they miss the one bus to school then the children have to walk between the tea bushes, on trails that are so steep and jagged that it’s life threatening. So, most often, they stop going to school. Children start working on the estates early or get married at a young age and have families of their own. Because these conditions are so bad, most government teachers appointed to estate schools don’t even come to teach for so long – they prefer places where they are familiar with the culture and where conditions are not so harsh. These schools are just forgotten.”

Though there are hospitals buildings in the estates, most of them have fallen to disarray after years of neglect and those that do function can only administer treatment for the most basic ailments. Surgeries and delivery of babies has to be done by trained doctors in a town hospital.

“She’s pregnant now and when my wife has to give birth, it will be very difficult for us. I have to take her almost 40 kilometres away to the hospital in the main town at the bottom of the mountain along these roads that are so damaged, the journey will be very uncomfortable for her.”

Health issues are constantly mounting in the cramped living conditions. A single line with five or so houses share a wall and with more than five people living in a single room, contagious diseases spread rapidly. In addition, most estates don’t have a proper toilet system for the inhabitants of the line houses to use. Water distribution in some plantations is such that the same water used by lines higher up the mountain makes its way down a channel to the lower divisions and the individuals there are left having to use water that is far from pure. Even in places where this particular system is not used, irregular water distribution methods and lack of basic hygiene facilities contribute to prevailing health dilemmas.

The options available to women who wish to work outside the estate are very limited. Aspiring to reach greater heights than the generations before them, idealistic women look for jobs in Colombo – working in someone’s house or in a garment factory. Their other option is to look for labour work abroad, which they sometimes find difficult to adjust to because of the culture differences. Eventually, most of them return only to marry and begin their own families and start, inevitably, working on the estate.

Though some do make these journeys, some fall into the cycle of the culture and are married as soon as they come of the legal age. Young brides bear children at a young age and are thereby compelled to stop schooling to take care of and provide for the children.

The consumption of alcohol by men, to beat the cold of shivering temperatures around the mountains and as an antidote to a day’s hard work, has resulted in an increased number of cases of violence against women and children.

This habit has spread among the women too. Because the communities consume illicit alcohol that is not manufactured properly, sickness results.

To approach the relevant authorities that could possibly help address their concerns is also difficult for the workers; even though the communities are Tamil, government agents appointed to offices in these areas are mostly Sinhala and the language barrier creates more confusion. Police stations, hospitals and other entities working directly with the people are not able to communicate using the language of the region’s majority.

This is one of the many factors that contribute to lack of proper documentation in the estate communities. Birth certificates are not issued or don’t carry accurate information, individuals do not have national identity cards and when couples marry, they do not seek to obtain a marriage certificate. Lack of awareness of the administrative procedures due to being cut off from society reinforces these inactions.

Tea country is a maze of bushes set on the face of steep mountains, along trails of jagged ground that drop sharply down the slope. The prevailing chill and freezing cold at some times of the year make for a challenging climate on the best of days.

Manufacturers will justify the use of human labour for the tea-plucking process due to the need for meticulous attention to detail in the quality of the leaves that result in a world-class beverage.

The average wage an estate worker is paid is Rs. 600 for 21 complete days of work.

Over the years, the estate Tamils have been a community marginalised by the state and mistreated by the corporations that employ them. The distance from an estate to the nearest town and the tight working schedules helps the estate management to keep them cornered from and uneducated about society. Unions, who should be advocating worker’s demands for benefits, shy away from their responsibility due to political influence. These workers have not been made aware of the benefits they should be receiving as employees and rights they are able to exercise as citizens of Sri Lanka.

Text and photographs by Amalini De Sayrah.

13 November 2015: The crowd consists primarily of women, but several men are also present. They are young and old, some with children and some needing help to walk. A quick ear to the conversations flying around indicates that they are largely Tamil speaking. In certain areas, there are Muslim women and in others Sinhalese women, though fewer in number. They are all united in their search for missing loved ones.

These women wait for their turn, sometimes for hours, to tell their story before the Presidential Commission to Investigate into Cases of Missing Persons – often referred to as the Commission of Inquiry or COI. Since 2013, the COI has been looking into cases of enforced disappearances during the Sri Lankan civil war. It has been mandated to address cases between 1983 and 2009. The 3-member Commission began hearing complaints in Kilinochchi in January 2014.

“My son was taken from Pesalai in 1989. He was 26 at the time, after his A/Ls he went in search of jobs to Colombo and stayed with my sister-in-law. He sent word through a lorry driver saying he needs 5000 to go abroad but my son didn’t go to claim the money. I heard from relations that Army had taken him in and put him in Magazine prison. I went there, wrote down his name and asked them to show him to me but they said no such person has been brought there. I then went to Bogambara prison; same reply. Welikada prison; same reply. Thalaimannar prison; same reply. I finally reported the incident.”

The response to the call for complaints was overwhelming; thousands of citizens came forward with cases of missing loved ones. Many of the complainants had gone before several state initiatives including previous commissions. With the overwhelming number of complaints made and the need for more time for investigations and inquiries, the Commission’s mandate was extended till August 2014.

Following the extension to the Commission’s mandate, another amendment was made regarding the period they were authorised to investigate – the Gazette provided that they would investigate cases that had occurred between 1st January 1983 and 19th May 2009.

July 2014 saw a further expansion of the Commission’s mandate; ‘to include inquiring into a wide range of issues spanning from violations of International Humanitarian Law (IHL) and International Human Rights Law (IHRL) including the recruitment of child soldiers and suicide attacks, to the criminality of financial and other resources obtained by the LTTE.’

CPA initially expressed concerns at this stage when the expanded mandate was presented, stating that it ‘fears for the integrity of the Commission, in particular, that its primary task of investigating and inquiring into the thousands of missing persons in Sri Lanka will be severely curtailed by the present gazette.’ [Read the statement in full.]

‘We were crossing from Mullivaikkal to Vattuvaikkal point. The Army stopped my son. I wanted to take him with me, but the Army said they will inquire and send him back, so we trusted what they said. We were taken in a van and dropped at the camp. Until now my son is missing. My son wasn’t involved in the movement, he came fishing with me. Is is safe with the Army around? I don’t know…..’

At the same time an Advisory Council was appointed to advise the Commission. Issues were raised as to the independence of this Council and questions still remain as to the nature of the work it set out to do and how this work will support that of the Commission.

Concerns were raised by CPA and other members of the civil society on the appointment of Sir Desmond de Silva to this advisory panel, claiming that it ‘further discredited a Commission of Inquiry that has failed to earn the confidence of victims and overburdened it with a mandate that was meant to address the overwhelming cases of missing persons from across Sri Lanka, raising serious questions about the willingness of the government to address the issue of enforced disappearances.’ [Read the statement in full]

Though the mandate of this Council was not made known, their report was made public at the end of October – read it in full here.

“He went missing from the Savanagara area in 1994; 3 others had joined him and they had gone fishing. They were coming down the road when they went missing. Army and terrorists were both moving around the area – I don’t know who to blame. I went to 3 LTTE camps in Mannar looking for him. Those at the LTTE camp during Chandrika’s time told me that there’s a UNP government and that I should go ask them. We were told they are free to move around and to look for him ourselves. We searched first at the Thalaimannar camp and then at the Alayadivembu camp. During our search, we heard that there was a problem between Prabhakaran and Karuna and we were ordered to go home.”

“She was 18 at the time and going to school when she went missing in 2006. It was a very problematic time; she was taken by force on her way home, by the LTTE in June that year. We were also displaced, but I met her in Kilinochchci; she said she was alright and not to worry about her. She was studying computing under the LTTE. She came home once after being taken. We ended up at Pudumatalan refugee camp. My other daughter got
wounded in a shell attack and I went with her to hospital. It was under LTTE control and there was shelling so they shifted us to Mannar hospital for treatment. At Omanthai checkpoint, my eldest daughter had surrendered – the village girls had seen and spoken to her. I want her back. My other wounded daughter was sent to Dambulla hospital, but since it was a military hospital I wasn’t allowed to see her. Maxwell [Paranagama] said he will check with the hospital records but I have heard nothing.”

An interim report by the Commission was submitted to the President in March 2015 but this report was not made public until very recently. Initially, a statement on the report was sent, to the media, stating that responsibility for 60% of the cases in the Northern Province were attributed to the LTTE, 30% to the security forces, 5% to armed groups and 5% to unknown groups.

CPA wrote to the commission in this regard, stating ‘the lack of transparency regarding this report which one hopes sheds light on the progress of the work of the Commission.’ [Read full statement here.]

The sittings after the submission of this report saw the addition of two more commissioners to hear the ever-increasing number of complaints made by affected citizens.

“There are 5 camps in that area. Whoever goes on that road, they must pass this area. As you pass the camps and go through the Sinhala area, there are cut outs, road blocks and a Police station. Maoya junction, we were able to search upto there but not further. Records showed that my son had signed in at one check point and the police are aware of this incident but no one knows what happened after that. My son’s telephone is still functioning.”

Each Commission hearing witnessed hundreds of women coming before sittings, many facing hardships that range from the economic to the physical and emotional. Some make long journeys just to be heard by the Commission and to continue their search for missing loved ones. While many women recount
narratives of missing male family members, there are also men who come before the commission in search of missing female family members. Details available also range from specific names of people in power and camps to where people were taken, to anecdotes such as ‘he was on his way home and he was taken’ or ‘he left for school and never came back.’

An Investigation Team was appointed earlier this year, but its role and functions regarding investigation of cases has not been made known, though Commissioners assure that they have commenced work.

“She was 18 at the time, when the LTTE took her. I saw her at the Vellipuram but that was the last time. I went looking for her when I heard that my child was at the detention camp, my only girl. We couldn’t find her. So far I haven’t gotten any information. I want my child back; I plead with you in all affection, please find my child. No, my housing and livelihood can wait – my search is for my child.’

Further, as the Commission heard about cases across the Northern and Eastern provinces, observers noted errors in the translation.

CPA noted ‘translators’ and the Commission’s lack of contextual knowledge of the affected areas and key issues related to the incidents before the Commission. [Read the report here.]

CPA questioned whether ‘the failure to genuinely address the grievances of over 19,000 complainants a stark reminder of the flaws in and failures of domestic processes that are meant to investigate violations?’ [Read the statement in full here.]

‘My husband was 25 years old at the time. One day, armed Air Force personnel took him away for inquiries – they were in civilian clothing. A Buddhist monk at the China Bay temple helped us – he went and saw that he was being kept in the China Bay Air Force camp. The next time we went there, we were told he had been taken to the Plantain Point Army Camp but when we inquired there, they denied it. I reported it to the ICRC
and the HRC. Later, officers came home to make inquiries and I went to the 4th Floor for this. I faced so many inquiries yet nothing happened. I’m here to request his death certificate and due compensation.’

At present, a death certificate is required to claim compensation. This has resulted in many families not having a choice and having to accept missing loved ones as dead and requesting that the issuing of the death certificate be expedited to ensure they are able to obtain assistance. The economic situation for most families in the North and East is difficult – most work in agriculture and in small shops to make ends meet. Most accept a death certificate purely to receive state social welfare payments that will help them in their daily lives.

CPA proposed a policy recommendation – the issuing of a ‘Certificate of Absence’ to families of the disappeared. This would be ‘an official document issued to family members of the disappeared persons, affirming their status as “missing” as opposed to “deceased.” This option has been used in countries that experienced high numbers of disappearances, based on the perception that it is better tailored to balance family members’ emotional and psychological needs without dismissing the need for active investigation into cases of disappearances.’ [Read full paper here.]

This recommendation was well received and during the recently concluded sessions of the United Nations Human Rights Council in Geneva, the Government of Sri Lanka stated that it would issue this certificate to the families of the missing. Soon thereafter, a cabinet paper proposing the introduction of such certificates was approved by the cabinet based on CPA’s recommendations.

Civil society across Sri Lanka including groups from the North and East have criticized the working methods of the Commission and some have engaged in protests. There have also been several calls to expedite investigations on cases of enforced disappearances.

The government mentioned plans to abolish the Commission, but Chairman Maxwell Paranagama has stated that it will continue investigating cases. This
statement was followed by the release of the Commission’s final report in Mid-October and the news that a round of sittings has been scheduled to take place in Jaffna, mid-November.

The UNHRC resolution, co-sponsored by Sri Lanka, also welcomed the suggestion to establish an ‘Office of Missing Persons’, although its tasks and responsibilities have not been made known to the public.

Consultation with civil society and families of the disappeared, essential to making this a victim-centric mechanism of transitional justice, is key but yet to materialize.

A study of one organisation’s dedication to fighting violence against women.

Anupama’s* arms are folded, unconsciously protecting herself as she tells her story.

“Since we have two small children, I bore it for some time, thinking he is not a bad person. He will change. Once he is in his senses, maybe he’ll be back to normal.”

That didn’t happen.

It all went downhill after her new husband lost his job while Anupama was still on maternity leave. Her mother in law then began setting her new husband against her. Suddenly, the young family found themselves in the midst of escalating tension, eventually erupting into violence. Initially, Anupama felt powerless.

“I didn’t know anybody here, since I am from a different country, and had the language barrier to face. I didn’t know who to approach,” Anupama said.

In the end, it was her country’s high commission who referred her to Women in Need (WIN) a centre dedicated to eliminating violence
against women, particularly domestic violence.

WIN was trying to mediate a settlement, when suddenly Anupama’s husband filed a court order and took her two young children away
from her. She approached the police, who told her they couldn’t help her without a court order. In the end, Anupama won back temporary custody rights, thanks to WIN’s intervention.

Anupama isn’t alone. Like her, there are many others who are afraid to ask for help. Much of this stems from shame. As Priya* put it, “Often, you are too embarrassed to talk about domestic issues [to outsiders].”

Priya’s son was still in nursery school when her husband turned abusive – and witnessed much of it. Priya’s husband was initially a pavement vendor, but lost his job when the pavement was demolished to make way for a new shop. He then found work at a small ‘hotel’ and began an affair with a much older woman – right in front of Priya and her young son.

Priya too had to fight for custody of her son. What’s more, her husband wasn’t just violent towards his family; he had also killed a boarder who had been staying with him. “I was shattered when I first came here. I had no money, and was living with my mother, who was supporting me. Every morning when I woke up… I couldn’t think of the future. I thought we would die,” she said, recalling those dark days.

Today, Priya has a job at Women in Need, and is able to support herself – she even paid her son’s nursery school fees by herself.

“I’m not afraid any more. Now I can survive on my own,” she says, proudly.

Priya says part of the reason she is able to get up in the morning is her counsellor, who is ‘like a second mother.’

Accessibility view
Chief Counsellor Padma Kahaduwa has been working at WIN for 25 years. She initially joined as a volunteer, but once she received her diploma in Psychiatric Counselling, she joined as a permanent staff member.

Padma’s job never ends. After hours, calls to WIN’s hotline are often redirected to counsellors’ mobile phones. It is the counsellor who is the first point of contact at WIN, talking to the patient and assessing whether they need legal help.

At times, suspicious husbands even call up the WIN hotline, demanding to know why there were missed calls to them. “We had one such call just yesterday, from a man who’s an unemployed drug addict. The wife wants to leave him, but she has two young children. The court has given her a three month period to see if they can settle their differences – but they can’t be settled. Every evening, he takes drugs. He won’t leave her alone,” Padma said.

WIN’s first priority is to try and settle the dispute between an arguing couple. “We talk to both parties to try and negotiate a settlement. If it becomes clear that one can’t be reached, it’s only then that we resort to legal measures,” Padma said. This is to try and disrupt the family as little as possible, since removal of the breadwinner of the house can cause numerous social and financial issues, which can affect young children, Padma explains.

Apart from this, counsellors conduct many activities, from sewing circles to support groups. The groups have been particularly powerful for those recovering from domestic violence, since they can see others in their situation supporting themselves successfully, Padma says. In addition, the group members often meet and support each other even outside therapy sessions.

The Legislation Regulating Domestic Violence

Each year, WIN’s legal department files an average of 15 to 20 domestic violence cases. Currently, there are 25 ongoing. According to the Women and Children’s Bureau, 499 domestic violence cases were filed with the police in 2013 alone. Most people think that the court system in Sri Lanka is fundamentally flawed, with cases dragging on for years.

This isn’t actually true for domestic violence cases, however, which fall under the Prevention of Domestic Violence Act. Most of the women who call the hotline are married and between the age of 20 and 50 years. There are far more calls now than in the past, but the stigma of talking to a stranger about personal issues at home is still strong.

Once it is decided that legal action needs to be taken, a legal officer will attempt to get a protection order from the abusive husband. Usually, an attempt is made to bring the protection order ex parte, i.e. without the husband’s presence. Though not guaranteed, this is usually granted. After this, the husband has to appear before the courts within a period of 2 weeks. Next, a decision needs to be made whether the interim protection order be made permanent. Unlike other cases, domestic violence cases are processed relatively fast thanks to this law. However, this only applies to victims of domestic violence – i.e. wives, ex-wives and co-habitees. What’s more, there needs to be proof of abuse – ideally hospital and police reports. Showing evidence of mental and emotional trauma is also possible under the Act but there are practical difficulties, since a judge has to be satisfied that there is a definite threat.

While domestic violence cases are processed relatively quickly, the emphasis is still on attempting to maintain the family unit. Often, the courts will suggest a short period at home in order to ascertain whether the conflict between a couple can’t be resolved. This results in many victims of violence, like Kumari* going back to their abusive husbands while the court cases are ongoing.

“I was just 19 when I eloped. He told me he was a Sales Executive at Suntel. It was only after I married him that I found out he was a drug dealer,” she said.

When Kumari was admitted to hospital to deliver her first child, the doctor noticed she showed signs of sustained sexual abuse. The ward nurse, a family friend, alerted Kumari’s father, who took her in. Kumari made several police entries, to little effect. She then went to court, and returned home for a 6-month period to try and reconcile with her husband, for the sake of her child, on court orders. She was soon pregnant again.

The doctor who delivered her second child was less sympathetic. In fact, he told other nurses and patients on the ward that Kumari was promiscuous.

“Now I can’t leave the house… I can’t take my children to Montessori. It’s really affected me,” she said, breaking down. “Only the first doctor who spoke to me knows the truth.”

Kumari’s case is still ongoing. She has also been given a job at WIN and is grateful for the support she has received. “My father was supporting me, but I can’t always depend on him.”

One striking similarity between all the women interviewed for this piece was that every one of them asked not to be photographed. They feared that their children would somehow suffer repercussions after they shared their stories.

Apart from their reluctance to be photographed, most of the women interviewed had another thing in common – their reaction upon being asked what they would say to other women in their position.

“Speak up. Don’t stay silent,” Anupama said. “Initially I thought, if the person who I came to this country for, the person I gave my life to, doesn’t understand me, then how can anyone understand me? That was wrong. There are people who understand and care. WIN is one such organisation who gives you confidence and everything is done in a human way.”

“Don’t hide your problems. If you do, you will suffer [in the end]” Priya said. “I have no words to thank WIN for all they have done for me. It is thanks to them that my son and I are alive today.”

WIN’s Services

WIN offers many services apart from counselling and legal assistance.

Crucially, they operate a 24-hour hotline (0114 718585) where women can call in to report incidents of violence. They also offer counselling, legal services, and temporary shelters in Colombo and Matara, providing safe spaces to victims of violence. Going the extra mile, they also have a dedicated desk in several key police stations in Colombo (at the Kirulapona Police Station, Women and Children’s Bureau at the Police Headquarters as well as the Kandy and Weligama Police Stations). Recognising that many abused women do not want to reveal the true source of their injuries, WIN also operates 8 one-stop crisis centres offering counselling in hospitals across the island. 8 more women’s resource centres offer not just a safe space but also library facilities, skills development and outreach programmes for women in Anuradhapura and Matara. In addition, WIN’s successful recycled paper greeting card project gives women recovering from domestic violence the means with which to support themselves.

WIN also provides psychological counselling services, legal advice, awareness programmes, skills development trainings and court representation to female inmates at the Welikada, Kalutara, Anuradhapura, Badulla, Kandy, Jaffna and Tangalle prisons.

*Names changed to protect privacy