Avurudu at Aththa’s
Goes back in time to recapture the wonders that Andewatte, her grandmother’s home in the Matale valley, held for her as a child during that special time of the year
New Year brings back memories of a childhood enriched with what could be termed today as dual “ethnicity”. A Buddhist Sinhala father and Burgher Christian mother, which enabled the assimilation of both cultures, for which I am very grateful.
In our home the fact that my mother was a Burgher was no deterrent to her entering into the spirit of New Year with gusto. Every rite and ritual was given place. The Nakath (Auspicious times) and “Nonagathe” (or ‘No nakath time’ – as I’ve heard it described) were observed. She did it all from the making and supervision of homemade sweets and oil cakes, over a wood fire in the outside kitchen to the boiling of milk in a brand new little pot, the wearing of the prescribed colours, and the purchase of new clothes for everyone.
It was always my task to set the table for the “Avurudu” meal, something I took great pride in even as a child. A polished brass lamp in the centre of a lace tablecloth, the base arrayed with betel leaves and ‘ araliya’ flowers, the wicks and oil made ready.
I remember the laden table groaning under the weight of platters of milk rice, bananas, the betel-leaf shaped cakes (that as I grew older I was allowed to bake and ice) the kavum, kokis, mung kavum, athiraha -best eaten fresh off the fire. (Today- we steam or microwave the oil cakes to renew them, and re-fried kokis is always yum !) The array of home- made sweets such as milk toffee, coconut rock, and my favourite the little “pana kavum” consisting of fried bits of rice flour dough rolled in sugar syrup. There was always a pot of curd and a bottle of treacle kept on the table to signify milk and honey.
We didn’t have TV back then, and the radio would be tuned to the Sinhala Service as the announcer guided us through the paces and phases of the “observances”, the ‘ raban’ playing drum beat in the back ground. Thus the first morsel of kiribathwent into our mouths at the appointed time, after which obeisance was made to elders – and the exchange of ‘lucky money’ took place.
The next was the distribution of trays to neighbours and friends, and visiting my father’s three paternal aunts, Seetha, Soma and Daisy.
But it is NOT the “Colombo New Year” that tugs at the heart strings. This time of year the heart and mind go back to “Andewatte” to the valley amidst the hills of Matale. “Andewatta” in the village of Waalawela is where we converged like homing pigeons every New Year to that little village homestead, that embodied “Aththa”, my grandmother. Aththa’s home that was “open house” to family and friends. It amazes me how that little house stretched to accommodate everybody at “Avurudu” time.
In Andewatta - Aththa reigned over her little kingdom of rubber, coconut and cocoa – the few acres that sustained a family of six children, after she was widowed in her early thirties. She moved from a mansion in the vicinity of All Saints Church, Borella – back to the village and to the plot of land that was bequeathed to her. Her father was a landowner and Andewatta was where his horses were originally stabled.
From a cosseted childhood, and schooldays at Musaeus College under the tutelage of Marie Musaeus Higgins herself, Aththa adapted, and became adept at coping with a new life.
My memories of her include seeing her tying cattle, jumping fences, getting up at pre-dawn hours to milk the cows, over-seeing the rubber tapping, the harvesting of other minor crops such as pepper and coffee, the husking and pounding of rice, always on the move never slowing down.
At New Year she was in her element supervising the activity in the kitchen. The outhouses containing the kitchen and storeroom were separated from the house by a section used as a car port and drying area. Access to the kitchen section was up some steps- all made of wattle and daub.
The car port and drying area floor was the same – swept clean – the paddy was spread out, as were the chillies and whatever needed drying.
There was no running water or electricity. Buckets and basins were filled with water in the area demarcated for washing up. My father had built a sizeable tank on the side of the house to collect rain water, and after days of rain when the water from the gutters ensured a full tank of water – we had our ‘body washes’ standing in a small cemented area using buckets and bowls to sluice ourselves,most often shivering at the coldness of the water.
We had all seen New Year “in” - in our own homes, before making the journey to Matale. Sweaters and scarves were packed – because it meant a venture to the cooler climes. Boxes of sweetmeats, clay pots of “ambul thial” fish, chicken curry coated in spices sans coconut milk, and other contributions were all loaded into our Peugeot 203. Aththa’s “Thay mese” (tea table) was always at the ready when we arrived. We added our contributions to it and watched as the “plates” came in from other village households.not on trays, but plates, first covered in newspaper with an overlay of cloth lovingly hand sewn and embroidered for just such an occasion as this (polythene, cling film and the common lunch sheets were not in use then).
The blackened kettle was always on the boil, at the ready for the countless cups of tea Aththa dispensed. Even on ordinary days anyone passing by Andewatte to the huddle of shops at the “Deniya handiya” (the junction) stopped by at Andewatta for the “cuppa” that was always on offer.
One year we all piled into a bus and the hilarity and happiness of that journey lives within me. At Alawwa cousin Ujith took it upon himself to stand “conductor” style on the footboard and shout “Galla! Galla ! Galla” !!! (Galle ! Galle ! Galle ! ). The puzzled faces of the onlookers on the roadside is worth mentioning – because Galle and Alawwa are totally unconnected!
We gave lifts to a few individuals, and, as is customary in this dear land of ours –(even when one is carrying a bucket and towel and heading towards a well !) we were asked where we were going. Again, it was Ujith who answered by saying that we were all in the bus together on our way to “view” a bride for him, and he was most anxious to see her…. desperate in fact!
This was accepted without question, in-spite of the fact that one of the passengers at the back was a large Alsatian dog!
Ujith’s cavorting continued into the evening when Aththa elected that we accompany her with “plates” to a few of the village households she had missed out on. At the home of a villager known as “Heen Aiyah” – there was Ujith calling out through the dusk “Heen Aiyye, Heen Aiyye, Avurudu, Avurudu”… we giggled uncontrollably as Aththa tried to shush us up in a vain! (Our behaviour obviously categorized by a bemused Heen Aiyah as that of badly brought up Colombo folk ! )
When we headed back, it was to “lamp lighting time in the valley” as my aunt Kusuma termed it, Uncle Tom ( Thomas mama, one of Aththa’s many brothers) had already completed the task of cleaning out and lighting the many kerosene lamps and lanterns. We could see him with a ship’s lantern (a relic of my father’s Navy days) heading towards the toilets situated a little away from the house.