Confronting the Complexity of Loss

2.1 The 1983 Pogrom
A participant now based in Colombo presented the following narrative, which is part of
his family’s shared recollections of the pogrom.
My grandfather was a Fiscal Marshal in Bandarawela at that time. We were
doing quite well—we owned some property in Bandarawela, Haputale and some
other parts including Matale. We also had a money lending business. At that
time, my father worked in Colombo in a shipping company. He was not with us
when the incident took place.
The incident took place on the afternoon of 26 July. We were expecting
something like this to happen because the LTTE had started its campaign and
there was a lot of tension in the country. But we never expected it to spread to
Bandarawela. That day, mobs started to attack houses in Bandarawela and the
top Tamil businessmen were targeted. News travelled that the mobs wanted the
‘three heads’ of the top businessmen including my grandfather. My grandfather
had gone out when two people came to the house and wanted to speak to my
uncle. The two men then threw two petrol bombs into the premises, which
destroyed the cars that were parked outside the house. When the attack was
taking place, my grandmother bundled up her jewellery and hid it in a well
located in the garden. My grandfather returned while the attack was taking place,
and we began to make preparations to leave.
My grandfather owned a gun and initially wanted to shoot the two men. But my
uncle convinced him not to, because he had heard that a family in Colombo who
had tried to fight back was killed by the mob there. According to my uncle, the
daughter in that family was forced to set the rest of her family on fire.
The two men left and later returned with a larger mob. We had three dogs—two
Pomeranians and one Labrador. They killed the dogs and cut their heads off.
They then threw the bodies into the burning vehicles. Then they began to douse
kerosene on the house and garden. We left through the back door and hid in a
house owned by a Sinhalese doctor in the area. We could see our home from this
doctor’s house. The mob eventually burnt the house to the ground.
The mob later tried to enter the doctor’s house, but he refused to let them in.
They decided to move on, as he was a respected and reputed doctor in the area.
But he didn’t want us to stay for long—he was afraid that the mob would return
and attack his house as well. So he organised for us to be transported in an
ambulance to a nearby camp. We were dropped off at a camp where Tamil
families were taking refuge. The others in the camp began to say that if my
grandfather—with all his political connections—was in the camp hiding, those
without any connections had no hope at all.
Then there was a rumour that the camp would be attacked on the 27 th night. At
around midnight, something large fell on the roof of the building and made a
loud sound. Everyone thought the attack had begun and screamed for help. But it
turned out to be a large fruit from a tree that hung over the roof of the building.
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