Reflecting on Black July, the Civil War, and the People of Jaffna
Walking around in the hustle and bustle of Colombo, it’s difficult to imagine the city in flames during Black July. Thirty-eight years ago, on July 24, 1983, the Sinhalese mob attacked their Tamil neighbours to avenge the 13 soldiers killed at the hands of Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). The mob looted and torched Tamil homes and businesses in the capital, and the chaos eventually spread throughout the country. A week later, an estimated 2,000 to 3,000 people had been brutally murdered, thousands more displaced. In Colombo alone, 100,000 people, more than half of Colombo's Tamil residents, were made homeless. This massacre ignited the 26-year civil war between the Sinhalese government and the LTTE that finally ended in 2009. For more information about the atrocity in July 1983 and its aftermath, the BBC’s “Remembering Sri Lanka’s Black July” provides a comprehensive analysis.
As a result of the massacre and the subsequent civil war, many fled Sri Lanka to countries such as the UK, Canada, Singapore, and Australia, creating massive Tamil diaspora communities worldwide. Many Tamils, however, couldn’t relocate and they stayed in the northern and eastern parts of Sri Lanka. Jaffna, the most northern Sri Lankan city, has always been a Tamil strong-hold, renowned for its vibrant Hindu culture. It is almost a different country than the Sinhala and Buddhist dominant Colombo and southern Sri Lanka. When we lived in Sri Lanka, Derek and I were intrigued by the city 400 km north of Colombo. When we told friends our intention to visit, some of our Sinhalese friends shook their heads. “Don’t go,” a friend said, “Jaffna is very dangerous.”
However, others wanted to come along. “Is it strange that we want to go to Jaffna with foreigners?” another friend asked, “if I were to go there with other Sinhalese, something bad might happen.”
In July 2021, Derek and I took the train to Jaffna. The train schedule was confusing, and we accidentally booked the slow train. We also made the mistake of booking a second-class car—we loved the idea of opening a window, sticking our heads out of it, and snapping a picture (we saw travel influencers doing this). There was no air conditioning, but with the open window, the journey was bearable. However, the train broke down 100 km before reaching Jaffna. We had no breeze for two hours while workers repaired the engine. Twelve sweaty hours after leaving Colombo, we finally arrived at the most northern city in Sri Lanka.
Three fishermen checking their nets in the Palk Strait off the coast of Jaffna.
Thousands of fish lay out to dry at a fish processing centre outside of Jaffna.
Due to the civil war, Jaffna was closed off from the rest of the city. Until 2009, Jaffna was a city that had stood still as time passed. We walked around the market, not too different from the ones in Colombo, with hawkers selling everything from fresh fruit to baked goods to hand-woven baskets to vibrant sarees. As Derek and I explored the market, I looked up and saw something spectacular. "Look, Derek!" I shouted and pointed at a coffee shop sign. “It’s hand-painted!”
Two locals stare in confusion as to why someone would be so interested in the coffee shop’s sign.
One of the many friendly stray dogs poses in front of one of hundreds of hand-painted signs in Jaffna.
Bavan’s hand-painted watch sign inside of Jubilee Bazaar Building, Jaffna.
Derek and I became obsessed with the hand-painted signs in Jaffna and decided to document them. We hoped that we could find some of the artisans that made the illustrations. We enlisted the help of Rajeevan, who drove us around and acted as a translator. As we were exploring near the market one day, Derek and I fell in love with a watch repair shop sign. Raj went into the shop and asked the shop owner about the sign. They spoke in Tamil for a while. “Did you find out who he is?” I asked Raj as we walked towards his car.
“Yes,” Raj said. “His name is Bavan. He lives in Navali, next to the Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul.”
“Do you think we can find it?” I asked, incredulous that we could find a person with so little information.
“Yes, no problem,” Raj said.
As we neared the village, Raj gave us a history lesson. In 1995, the Sri Lankan government tried to gain control over Jaffna. The authorities told the Tamil civilians to take refuge in places of worship. As a result, many civilians in Navali took shelter in the local Catholic church, Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. When a bomb landed on it, 147 Tamils perished.
Raj, Derek, and I arrived on the main street of Navali, a village 6 km from Jaffna. Raj opened the car window and greeted several old men who sat outside one of the shops. Moments later, Raj parked the car. "They said he lives up that road," he said, pointing to an alley.
So we walked into the alley. Raj stopped at a gate and asked if this was Bavan's house. A woman directed us down an even smaller path. Finally, Raj found Bavan’s home, which was at the end of the alley. We walked through the unlocked gate, and while standing in the yard, Raj hollered. After a while, an old, frail man came out wearing a pale yellow button shirt and a sarong, with sleep in his eyes. Raj told him why he was there with us, and Bavan lit up.
Bavan, a retired sign painter, sitting on his porch with us.
Bavan was a man who looked much older than his seventy-one years. Life had not been easy for him though he had steady work as a sign painter for over thirty years. Inside his living room, Bavan pointed out pictures of him in Colombo holding a plaque commemorating his professional work. He had retried retired and lived with his wife, who ran a cram school for children. We chatted for about forty-five minutes—Raj kindly translated our whole conversation. Bavan's eyes sparkled— he was ecstatic that Derek and I had found his work. He allowed Derek to take pictures of him, but he was unaccustomed to having a gigantic lens pointing at him. He twitched and didn't know where to look.
After our chat, Bavan insisted on taking us back to the village stores—where we had stopped to ask for directions to his house—to show us the sign he had made for the two shops over thirty years ago. We had hoped that we could commission a small drawing from him, but it was not possible due to his poor health.
After spending many days with Raj, we also became friends. We chatted as he drove Derek and me around, and I learned a great deal about him. Towards the end of the war, Raj worked for the International Committee of Red Cross (ICRC). He first worked as a dispatcher in Jaffna, alerting aid workers about potential bombings and other dangerous situations. Then, he moved to Colombo and was working as a data administrator. We had a long conversation about his work with the ICRC on a 7-hour car ride from Jaffna to Colombo.
Rajeevan Ratnam, owner and operator of Yarl Tours.
Towards the end of the war, the ICRC started to document people in hospitals, prisons and refugee camps. Many Tamils have been displaced since the beginning of the war. As a result, many people, mostly Tamils, ended up in camps for the Internally Displaced Person (IDP). Raj visited IDP camps and prisons to take down their personal details and document their existence. Though many of the stories were tragic, Raj did manage to find family members who were separated during the war.
“I was able to reconnect husbands with their wives and helped mothers find their sons, "Raj said. "I was very happy to see them happy.”
Since moving back to Jaffna, Rajeevan has been running his tourism company, Yarl Tours. If you are planning to visit Sri Lanka, I recommend reaching out to Raj. He will organize an outstanding itinerary for you.
Last year, I was living in Sri Lanka and obsessively reading about Black July. This year, I have been working and reworking this blog post for the last two weeks. It's been challenging to write about because instead of focusing on the horror of Black July, I wanted to reveal the humanity of those considered to be 'others' due to racial, religious, or political differences. It's true that many Sinhalese murdered Tamils in July 1983 and looted and burned down Tamil homes and businesses. Yet, there were countless Sinhalese who aided Tamils during the darkest hours. Reading about the people who hid and saved their neighbours, colleagues, and friends during the massacre inspired the short story that accompanies ‘Priya.’ Even though I only lived in Sri Lanka for one year, the country and its people have touched me. I hope you, my dear reader, will experience the gorgeous country someday too.
Google Maps List showing our documentation of the Hand-painted Signs of Jaffna.