Being a survivor of Black July has shaped how I roll

It has taken me forty years.? Forty years, to rationally and emotionally piece together why I am, who I am.? It finally makes sense.? The parts of the puzzle come together magnetically.? It has taken a rich set of experiences from within the rooms that I have chosen to walk into, to in turn, show me why I chose those doors and why not others.? As I put pen to paper on this difficult essay, I feel a sense of overwhelming gratitude.? Gratitude to my parents who made some tough decisions and foresaw the future. Luck and good fortune have been my best friends.? People from all walks of life have walked alongside me and for that I’m grateful.? I have been honoured with a wonderful set of human beings I call family.? And I’m grateful to our brethren and their ancestors for letting me share this home that is girt by sea and abounds in nature's gifts.

I have rarely, unless induced, spoken about the harrowing episode from my past.? Was this because I was trying to leave it suppressed? Or was it because I did not wish to show my vulnerable side to friends, colleagues and family? Perhaps it was because I didn’t think anyone would care, or was it because I didn’t want any sympathy? Was it simply a case of not knowing how and when to let someone sit by me under the dark clouds??

This year has been different.? I have come out.? More and more.? I feel I’ve reached a point where opening up is going to help me and those around me.? Is it because I’m planning to take Tilana, Selena and Deshan back to the past, for the first time? Perhaps, it was the award-winning and hard-hitting play Counting & Cracking that replayed the events so painfully that it brought out the hidden trauma? Is it because I’m thinking about what I do in my third innings, and how I do it? Or is it simply the stoic philosophy of momento mori; 'remembering one must die', and somethings just should not be taken to the grave?

If you are reading this, and you have known me through work, as a friend or acquaintance, I’m certain that you will not know this part of my past.? As you read it, I hope you begin to understand my peculiarities and passions better, and that it paints a fuller picture of who I am, what I am, and why I am.? Why I can be quiet yet vocal, soft yet solid, unassuming yet bold and open yet shut.

Black July

The events of Black July are as if they happened yesterday; they have carved a permanent mark in my heart.? Let me take you to that time and place.?

Our family was living in a place called Matale in Sri Lanka, in the middle of the teardrop island paradise that never found inner peace.? Matale was the spice capital of Sri Lanka, renowned for cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, pepper, turmeric and so on.? My dad was the district government veterinary surgeon. It was a predominantly Sinhalese area.? We had been there for ten years by then and had established our circle of friends and community.? We were among a small sprinkling of Tamil families in Matale who had left their homeland of the North of the island for work.?

Sri Lankan Tamils constitute about 20% of the population, and predominantly live in the northern third of the island. The rest are Sinhalese.? For eons, we had had our own kingdoms.? While we may have had the occasional war, history suggests trade, a shared culture and peaceful coexistence. Genetics suggests the beautiful coexistence was more than being good neighbours, but that we often fell in love with each other.? Studies indicate that Singhalese are genetically the closest sub society to the Sri Lankan Tamils, and vice versa compared to any other South Asian group, even Indian Tamils.? Whilst we had different languages and were majority Buddhists (Sinhalese) and Hindu (Tamil), we shared common heritage, ancestry, culture, food and place.? We should have built on our similarities instead of allowing divisive forces to see each other so differently. And more recent invasive history has not helped.? The island was colonised by the Portuguese, the Dutch and finally the English given the strategically important location near India, and as a vital trade route.? When the British finally left in 1948, they did not hand back the respective Kingdoms, but as they did in many parts of the world, set up a system that they well knew would leave the country in a permanent state of conflict.? They gifted us the poisoned chalice of the Westminster system and the ideology of democracy.? The differences between the Sinhalese and Tamils were amplified through the parliamentary process resulting in discrimination. If the shoe was on the other foot, the Tamils may have also shown their upper hand. It is human nature.? Shifting the governance opened up the fault line.

This backdrop is important for you to understand what happened in July 1983.? In the late 70s, several freedom fighting movements had emerged in the North, calling for an independent Tamil Country or State, wanting to take us back to the original kingdoms.? The Tamil Tigers emerged as one of the fiercest.? In 1983, they had had their biggest strike, killing thirteen soldiers in a guerilla attack.? This set off a wave of resentment and hostility by the Sinhalese towards the Tamils.? It is said that Sinhalese politicians who were starting to understand the benefits of division and hatred to retaining their positions of power, orchestrated an organised holocaust, first of many, against the Tamils across the Country.? This became known as Black July.

I was twelve years old at the time, and we were living a wonderful life surrounded by a community within which we had built endearing friendships.? A truly multicultural community of Sinhalese, Tamils, Burghers (Eurasians - mixed Sri Lankans with Dutch, Portuguese of British ancestry), Hindus, Christians, Buddhists, Muslims (or Moors as they are referred to in Sri Lanka).? We would wake up to the Adhan from the Mosque Minaret.? We used to look forward to each and every one of the religious festivals from Diwali to Vasak to Eid and Christmas and the variety of sweat treats, the street firecrackers and lanterns. ?I could speak, read and write Tamil, Sinhalese and English! It was multiculturalism at its true best, as far as I had experienced.?

Then one day, our world changed overnight.? As mob attacks in the capital Colombo began, targeting Tamil shops and homes, we would listen to the radio hoping that the State would step in and end the rapidly evolving carnage.? Instead, the State added fuel to the fire and sanctioned the violence, and the contagion spread.? Some Sinhalese friends of ours who had been pre-warned of what was about to take place in Matale alerted my parents to go into hiding, and that our lives were in danger.? My mum was a teacher at the local convent, and the nuns offered to hide us in the Church compound.? Overnight, violence erupted in Matale. Our house (shown inset), alongside many Tamil houses, were looted and torched, burnt beyond recognition.?? We later found out that over 5,000 Tamils were killed across the country, including some souls burnt alive in their cars while trying to escape.? Ours was one of 18,000 homes that were set alight and destroyed.? While it has no basis of logic, my mind has been permanently altered to think that life could be turned upside down overnight.? In some ways it is good to be prepared for the worst, but in other ways, that’s a terrible way to persist.

As a child, I lost all my memories, my toys, books, and some of our pets, but also all my friends and community.? But thankfully survived unlike many others.? Once the violence had settled, I remember seeing the streets dotted with burnt houses and cars including our house.? We then moved back to the North, Tamil country, to our home in Jaffna where both my brother and I had to re-establish ourselves in new schools, new friends’ circles and new community, not to realise at the time that we would have to do this all over again three years later in Australia.? Those three years, while extremely precarious, was the only time I was part of a community where I was in the majority (shown inset).? I’m not sure what that means, but I know most people have lived their entire lives in communities where they are part of the majority.

The three years in Jaffna however were not safe.? We lived in a conflict zone.? The Sinhalese Army would regularly round up teenagers and adults alike and most would never come home. Some incidents are vivid in my memory. Once my parents hid under a car while a number of people on the street were shot and killed by the Army.? Another was when I was in a scout camp and fighting broke out nearby. Bullets were zinging past the tents we were in. Thankfully all of us survived.? Once I remember playing a game of cricket and heard gun shots not far away.? We ran home.? We later found out that kids at a nearby ground were shot from a helicopter.? Our school principal was gunned down by the Tamil Tigers for organising a friendly cricket match with the Sinhalese Army.? I carried his casket.? In another unforgettable incident, one of my friends was tied to the lamp post and shot and killed, at the tender age of fifteen. ?I have seen arms and limbs separated by bomb blasts. These memories will never leave me, and have indeed genuinely made me.

Our family was granted refugee status by the Australian government in 1986, and thankfully we managed to escape the Indian Army that landed in Jaffna in 1987 leading another killing spree. We also escaped the final war in 2009 during which the UN estimates, over 60,000 lives were lost, the final of the holocausts against the Tamils.? There are Tamils who have gone through every one of these episodes and yet carry a brave face.? A sliding door moment may have seen me join the Tamil Tigers as many of my classmates did, and most likely lose my life.? But here I am, fighting not for a homeland, but our collective home, the planet, through my work and non-profit roles. The fight has stayed with me, and thankfully I have been able to channel the energy in positive and hopefully more impactful ways.

Common Ground

When we moved to Perth, yet again I was different to most, in colour, cultural norms, accent, and, most importantly, how I defined and lived life.? As a teenager showing up halfway through year 10, school life was tough.? Mum and dad could not find work in their fields.? Australia is harsh on immigrants.? Perhaps all countries are, but asking for Australian experience when you’ve just turned up is neither logical, nor moral.? We did what we had to, so as to survive.? Being Catholic helped.? We had something in common with one tribe.? Mum re-trained as a teacher and found work through the Catholic schooling system.? Dad, as a Vet, had treated and looked after Asian animals in Sri Lanka.? Those animals were how he found a job, working at the Zoo and eventually in research completing his PhD. So, we had yet another tribe in common in Asian animals across the vast seas! Finally, we as Sri Lankans noticed how similar we looked to our First Nations People, the Noongar. The dialect sounded familiar, and words and cultural aspects seemed intriguingly from the same tree.? I made some great friends with whom I’m still close to, including Kado Muir, now an elder in Leonora. ?I later understood that we may share common ancestry through sea faring Dravidians coming to Australia over 5,000 years ago!? The origin of the Sanskrit word drāvi?a is Tamil.??

Slowly, we built friendships and relationships.? I took up a new sport, Basketball.? After school shooting around, down at the local high school courts became regular, and eventually daily part of the day.? Like the NBA, we had the HBA, the 'Hampton Basketball Association'.? Some of these basketball buddies have remained forever friends.? The Catholic schooling system, and the basketball court treated me on my merits.? I was starting to feel that I belonged, again.? I lost my accent and became ‘an Aussie’ on those courts!

But, Black July and the subsequent years in Jaffna had taught me that regardless of who you are, you have some common ground with another, or indeed, any other person.? Whether that common ground is in what you believe, what you enjoy doing, the field of work or play, or even as something so common to humanity worldwide, like having a family.? This common ground, if you keep tilling it, can become fertile and bear mate ship that is unshakeable.? We found this in the Sinhalese friends who warned us, the Catholic community who looked after us in both Matale and in Perth, and in my HBA teammates who were there for me through tough times.? We have more in common than not, sometimes in our genetic make-up, our belief systems, our values of fairness and care, and in the tribes to which we may belong, from sporting codes and clubs to music interests to religious and advocacy groups.? However, we haven’t been good at finding common ground across waring nations to racial boundaries in today’s cosmopolitan multicultural societies.? But why not? Perhaps we can turn this into a progressive and constructive approach to civil discourse? One live example is happening in Taiwan.? Pol.is and vTaiwan are two platforms that embody this concept in the realm of public governance. Developed under the stewardship of Audrey Tang, Taiwan’s Digital Affairs Minister, these platforms are designed to facilitate large-scale discussions among diverse groups, including government officials, experts, and citizens identifying common ground, helping visualise options, encouraging constructive participation and using dynamic agenda-setting.

Notwithstanding having lived in Australia for the better part of three decades, I still find the concept of common ground key to my work and personal life.? I’m awkwardly different. Perhaps most people feel the same way.? But, leading a life focused on impact and minimising harm can tend to alienate one – just think how uncomfortable it would be to have me at a dinner table being a plant-based teetotaler, wearing an Edgar’s Mission top and a Reconciliation band talking about philanthropy and minimalism.? So, I tend to lean to common ground and weave in sports, the economy, shows and movies and a sprinkling of longevity science (just about everyone is keen to know how to lose weight and extend health-span, and of course plant-based eating and avoiding alcohol then seem normal). If you are reading this and were part of this mix of conversation with me, the secret’s out!

Stoicism as an antidote

Over the past five years, I’ve found a new religion in stoic philosophy, touching on the teachings of Zeno, Epicurus, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius and Seneca.? The philosophy resonates with my experiences. Let me shed some light.

Zeno, the father of Stoicism, began his life as a Phoenician merchant. His journey was tragically interrupted by a shipwreck, which resulted in the loss of his cargo and possessions. This devastating event forced him to abandon his mercantile pursuits and seek a new direction in life.

Stranded in Athens, Zeno sought refuge in the Academy, Plato's school of philosophy. However, upon Plato's death, he became disillusioned with the Academy's focus on rhetoric and began to develop his own philosophical system, drawing inspiration from the teachings of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle.? Stoics believed that the practice of?virtue?is enough to achieve a well-lived life. Stoics identified the path to achieving it with a life spent practicing the four?virtues?in everyday life—wisdom, courage, temperance (moderation), and justice—as well as living in accordance with nature.

Zeno's personal experience of loss and hardship shaped his philosophical outlook. His own struggles provided him with a unique perspective on the human condition and the importance of resilience and inner strength. Through Stoicism, Zeno sought to empower individuals to overcome adversity and find meaning in life, regardless of their circumstances.

Black July for me was Zeno’s shipwreck.? Fighting for what’s right; self-preservation; an out-stretched helping hand; finding common ground; and seeking ethics and equality.? My exterior bravado should not be seen as ambition, nor strength, but the puppeteering by deep scars. The four stoic virtues embody me more than any other.? I am in constant pursuit of wisdom. I believe that personal growth through seeking wisdom is the only way to live.? Courage, moderation and justice are a meaningful way of life for me. I enjoy the pursuit of justice for the planet, for human rights, for animal rights and I like the fact that I aim to eat last and only eat plants.? They are not just survival instincts, but my rumination of Black July.? It has become how I roll.