 Claude Perera, omi
A Folk Psalm of Lamentation
of the Tamils from the War-Torn North-East Sri Lanka Lord! We looked to heaven for solace. . But often what fell on us were mortars and shells. Carrying our vagabond treasures on head or in hands Stepping on booby traps or land-mines becoming limbless Leaving the dead and critically wounded, we hastened for our lives. Fleeing for life, under the open-skies drenched by monsoons Floods raged over us; we crossed treacherous torrents. Drenched by diarrhea and dehydration, mosquitoes sang us dirges. Snakes in commotion and venom in promotion No medical aid or in slow motion. The war devoured our sons; our daughters polluted. Conscription of our tender children, which the militants justified We sob for the generation of our youth deprived Our legacy is a host of orphans, widows, and the lame and maimed. Limbless or wounded animals aimlessly creep for food. Temples, mosques and churches lie in ruins. Our ever-green heritage in dire desolation dries. The rice-bowl of the north lays barren, alas! In the soil mingled with blood sleep our fallen martyrs. Politics, fanatics and fascists have played havoc on us. Is this the land where Dhamma is said to reign supreme? A Folk Psalm of Lamentation
from a Sinhalese Borderline Village in War-torn Sri Lanka Our hamlets became ghost villages with the fall of the evening shades. We escaped into the forest leaving home and livestock. Night turned ghastly with the haunting of giant-bats and screeching of owls. Dogs howled at the moving silhouettes of nocturnal demons and angels Children restrained from crying, lest the blood-thirsty enemy detects us. Every night we appeased swarms of mosquitoes with blood libations. Elephants hit and snakes bit their unwelcome intruders. Males could no longer night-watch the farmlands. Had they stayed on the watch-huts, they’d get killed by militants. If they didn’t, wild animals would lavishly prey on our crops. Sleeping at home was a betting game with death. For if sons of terror come we would be are hacked or shot. A pregnant woman’s belly was cut open, the foetus jutting out. Thirty five novice-sons of the Buddha slaughtered in broad day-light. Blood-thirsty militants unleashed hell on civilians poor and innocent Mortars fell on schools; panicky the children and teachers became. Schools closed or shifted for safety elsewhere. Our very existence was in jeopardy, let alone the children’s future. All around the putrid smell of death was galore. O Godhead! While we endured this hell were you there with us? -------------------------------------------- Claude Perera is a priest from Sri Lanka belonging to the Congregation of the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate (omi). In 1984 he obtained a licentiate in Sacred Scripture from Biblicum, Rome and in 2008 as a MWI scholarship-holder he defended his PhD thesis entitled, “Was Qoheleth Influenced by Early Buddhism? The Book of Dhammapada as the Point of Departure” at KULeuven, Belgium. He also has an MA in Buddhism from the Postgraduate Institute of Pali and Buddhist Studies of the University of Kelaniya, Sri Lanka. For many years he has been teaching Sacred Scripture in Ecclesiastical circles in Sri Lanka and European languages in state institutions in Sri Lanka. Presently, he teaches Holy Scripture at the Catholic National Seminary in Windhoek, Namibia. 22.11.2009 |
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