Meet 7-year-old Arugam Dan from Arugambay

By Surya Vishwa

Meeting seven-year-old Dan on a rainy day is like having the sun sitting in front of you – his unruly, long, bronze coloured curly hair is very much like sun rays!

I tell him this and he looks at me, rolls his eyes in a distinct manner and tells me in a droll tone in perfect Sinhalese ‘Mama Arugam Dan. Arugambay gama. Mama Ira nowe.”

I burst out laughing and he makes use of my distracted state to take my pen and notebook. He puts it away and returns to look at me – close up – hands on chin – albeit with constantly rolling eyes. I think to myself that this particular sun belongs in a very different sky. He starts giving me a running commentary on his friends in Arugambay, his hometown; that he spends his time after school swimming and playing cricket with his friends. When I speak to him in English he crosses his eyes and when I speak to him in Sinhala he uncrosses them and answers in his inimitable style. 

“Oyage hondama yaluwage nam monawada (What is the name of your best friend)?” I ask him and he replies (eyes uncrossed) – “Mata Godak Yaluwo Innawa. Godak Nam thiyanawa, Mahesh innawa, Randula, Thawa Godak innawa,” he says.

I comment on his barefoot status, having been informed by his father that Dan never wears any footwear except when he has to go to school (a village school) in Arugambay. There too he attempts to wriggle out of his shoes at the slightest chance! He has been admitted to a Tamil medium school in an attempt to get him to learn Tamil, a language he seems to find difficult to catch although his Sinhala is effortless, having started speaking the language as a child. His mother however is not Sinhalese but of African and Thai origin.

When I meet him he has come to Colombo for a brief visit from Arugambay where his father; Mitan Miller, a British-German national runs a hotel. The family has spent a few days in Colombo having arrived to attend a posh Colombo party. 

I ask Dan whether it is true that he did what he did at the party. He looks at me, eyes crossed and rolling and I decide that I do not want a headache! 

“Ithin party eka kohomada,” I ask again – trying a different tactic. “Oya party ekata giye shoes danne nathuwada (did you go to the party without shoes)?”

A sideway smile emerges and I start laughing as I recall what I heard. Self preservation overtakes Dan and he insists, “‘Mama mukuth kare nehe (I did not do anything).”

At the party that he attended, messy hair and barefoot, wearing some baggy shorts, apparently he was looked upon by the other children as if he had come from some other planet. He indeed does look like he has! These kids had not allowed him to play with them at the play area set up for kids at the party. The main attraction for the children at the party had been an inflatable bouncing castle. Obviously sad and irritated that he was barred from it, Dan had wandered across and done what he felt had to be done – pulled the plugs out of the compressors, unleashing mayhem! Power had gone out along with the crumbling structure!

“Mama nevei,” he asserts, eyes on the ceiling, and distracts me by reminding me that my phone, notebook and pen were all with him. 

“Oyage pothai penai phone ekai mang langa” (your notebook and pen and phone is with me), he says.

I say ‘Ow’ (yes) resignedly and waited for him to give it back.

“Mama denne nehe (I will not give it),” he responds and picks them all up and lopes away down the shopping mall we are in, to the children’s playing section. There, he asks the person in charge if he can play and waves for his father to make the payment to enable him to climb up on the ropes (where children can climb up on ropes in an assisted manner).

His sister, 15 years of age, and also speaking fluent Sinhala starts chatting about rural life in Arugam Bay and her friends. 

Neither Dan nor his sister are Sri Lankan passport holders although they have attempted several times to get citizenship. They were born here and know no other home. Their father has lived in Sri Lanka over five decades and has contributed millions of dollars into tourism here. Their mother manages the Arugambay hotel which incidentally is fully booked until 2024, (which means this family is contributing effectively to the local economy at a time many are deserting it).

Their story is unique for many reasons – at a time when Sri Lankans are doing everything within their limits to go to ‘international schools’ these kids whose parents can afford it, are sending their children to the ‘village school.’ At a time when tuition is a common fashion these kids are studying on their own.

When most seven-year-old boys will sulk for ages if a posh pair of shoes is not given to them, Dan sulks when he is forced to wear shoes to school. 

“Mata asama nehe – ewunata iskollen kiyanawane danna kiyala,” and he morosely examines his toes – which are quite clean – when considering that he trots about everywhere barefoot!

As he dashes out in the pouring rain at one point I tell him that he will get sick and need medicines and he starts laughing as if I told a major joke.

As it turns out the children have grown up only knowing nature and nature’s medicine – fruits – herbs – leaves and neither parents nor children have ever had to go to hospital. 

I cannot help but think that the spirit of the ancient kings of Lanka would be proud of this child – these two children and their parents who in all aspects merit the term ‘Sri Lankan.’ 

 

(Note: The writer extends gratitude to human rights activist, Muheed Jeeran who posted a video on social media on this child and subsequently introduced this writer to Dan’s family.)