The month was July now and the South West Monsoon had come in with a vengance. Gone was the intermonsoon period of April and May with its gigantic thunderstorms sweeping up the Um Oya gorge and giving a thumping shower only to be followed an hour or so later by brilliant sunshine. When the South West wind starts, there is sudden change of atmosphere. It began one evening and the grevillea shade trees heavy with foliage bow their silver heads, and by the morning there is a wonderful fresh breezy feel to the land, a great contrast after the super greenhouse conditions earlier. Everywhere leaves are flying and the Central Mountain range from the 7000 ft high Horton plains to Mount Pedrogalla at just under 9,000 ft are covered in mist and clouds. Whilst on the South West side of the Island, such as the Adams Peak range and Dolosbage, torrential rain of up to 10ft will be recieved in the three summer months. But in Uva we are in the rain shadow with what is called a lee wind, blowing down from the mountains and it is sunny as far as the eye can see. It is as though the Equator runs through the Central Range giving the south west side their winter conditions, in the hills cold and wet with a lack of sun, whilst within a few miles on our northern side of the range we would be sweltering in a mid- summer drought and a hot desiccating dry wind.
This is time of the year when after about three weeks or so of continuous wind the tea bushes have their growth slowed. The flushes on the bushes are transpiring profusely in the wind ,concentrating their juices and as a result glorious flavour teas are made commanding the highest prices. Sometimes I would stand in a field when the pluckers were working in July and close ones eyes ,and the scent of natural jasmine was so overpowering that one could easily imagine that one was in a field of flowers. Gradually as the wind continued over the coming weeks and months it increasingly got on everyones nerves. Bushes would wilt and the cropping would become slower and slower. Work would get short adding to the tension and everyone would be praying for rain or the luck of an occasional shower. So now was a good time to prune the tea as it provided work at a lean time, and it also rejuvenated the bushes and made them more manageable when the rains would recommence in September. Every year about a quarter of the acreage would be pruned in the summer dry weather period. The pruners were skilled at their craft cutting each branch with a neat clean cut about 18 inches above the ground. For their tools they used a large curved knife made by our local Sinhalese blacksmith, Jinadasa, which they kept razor sharp using a soft wood branch over which they would pulverise some quartz rock.
One day at the end of June the pruners were working in a field just below our bungalow, when on the edge of a terrace, I noticed a bush untidily pruned by a novice. I took his knife to trim his mistake, when it slipped, and the point plunged deep into my left hand half way up to the elbow. There was a sudden spurt of blood of about 8ft and I realised to my horror that I had severed the main artery in my left arm. Quickly I got a headscarf from a coolie, and made a loop to tighten it firmly up as best I could, so as to slow down the bleeding, but the next worry was to get to a hospital. Jill had gone out in our car, and Father who was just back from Turkey also happened to be out in his. This left only the leaf lorry which fortunately was trundling up nearby laden with 2 tons of rocks for terracing. It seemed an interminable time before it arrived, and was unloaded by everyone frantically, before I was able to be trundling and rattling on my way to our local hospital, 7 miles at Welimada. When we eventually arrived, I was greatly relieved to see that the doctor was present and not on holiday, so that I did not need to drive for a further hour to the next major town of Badulla.
He looked at me and said, “ My God I must first put a ligature on the artery. Come and sit on this chair on the verandah where the light is bright so that I can see better”.He then put a tourniquet and pumped it up really tight and the pain was intense whilst he knotted the severed artery. This done he was more relaxed and said
“ Come inside and sit on a bed whilst I suture the wound.” The ward was thick with flies everywhere. The white ceilings were black with them, and I was terrified that as he worked he might inadvertently sew some inside. So I asked an old Sinhalese patient if he would mind flicking the wound with his headscarf, as the doctor worked to keep them away. Eventually it was all complete to my intense relief , so I asked him if would mind giving me a penicillin and an anti-tetanus injection.
“There is no need .You have fully bled and that has cleaned the wound”
So I asked him, “ Why don’t you do something about all these terrible flies? Surely you could spray them ?”
“They are fully resistant to DDT which has no effect now on them.”
“So why don’t you use an alternative like Malathion or Basidin”
“ Government is short of funds, and there is no money available for such luxuries. Don’t you worry Mr Charnaud, you come back in one weeks time and I will remove the sutures”.
So I came back a week later. The wound had healed beautifully, and the doctor had saved my arm and possibly my life with his expertise. I walked into the ward and was shown the same bed that I had sat on the week before. It was still covered in all my congealed blood and the flies were still feasting on the dried up remains! Such was life out in the wilds of Ceylon, and I doubt if things have changed all that much today.
A month later at the beginning of August, we decided to have 10days leave at Plantain Point Bungalow, Trincomalee. Joining us were old family friends, Bob and Anne Christie who had got married about a year before us. Jill, had got particularly friendly with Anne who came from an old Ceylon family, the Gibbons and so had many relations in the island and we had also shared a flat in London when Mother returned in 1948. The weather as is usual in August was hot dry and windy, but we would rise at 5 o’clock an hour before dawn, and take out our motor launch to troll for a fish in the early light of dawn. We would then return home for a curry breakfast of hoppers (fermented flour quickly heated in a round pan) , fried eggs, and a light curry sauce. Koothan our appu, or cook prepared them to perfection. Then afterwards we would go swimming on a reef wearing a dark shirt against the strong sun,and snorkel masks.
In the afternoon we would flake out for a rest on our beds to be woken up by a crescendo of thumps and bangs ,as a troop of large wanderoo monkeys, would hurl themselves from the overhanging satinwood trees on to the corrugated iron roof of our home. Sometimes they would all sit on the edges of the gutter with their long tails hanging down like pull cords, and I was often tempted to give one a tug, but I never risked it, as they were renowned for having the most viscous bite.
We all had the most wonderful start to our holiday and it was here that both Anne and Jill conceived our first born, and both ended up nine months later in the planters nursing home at Hatton, to give birth. But a lot was to happen in the intervening period.
One evening we decided to take the boat with our boatman, Babbadeen to go crayfishing . There were a couple of tridents which I gave to Bob and Anne, and as there was nothing else, I picked up a large machete about 2 ft long as my tool.
