Srí Lanka – The Home of Ceylon Tea Discovering Tiger River and Adam’s Peak tea in 1996.
Fishermen’s Hospitality In one of the innumerable inlets on the west coast of the island of Srí Lanka lies the fishing village of Negombo. The local fishermen, just like their distant ancestors in the period described by the author of the 2000-year-old legends of the Ramayana, sail out to sea each morning to pursue their trade on catamarans skillfully carve
d out of huge tree trunks. “Come and visit my humble dwelling,” I am asked as I walk through the village. The aroma of dried fish, the sun at its zenith and the red scorched sand under my feet has tired me out, and I accept the invitation without much hesitation. My host is called Warnakulasooriya Hernandez and he is a member of the Christian minority on the island. His forebears were christened in the times of the Portuguese voyages of discovery and colonization, which brought mass (whole village) baptisms. In a hut built of bamboo stems and palm leaves stuck together with clay, a kerosene burner is glowing and the sound of boiling water begins to rattle from a tin pot that I believe is the only metal article in the “house.” The master of the house throws in a handful of scented black tea, broken into very small pieces. “There is fresh m
ilk and a little cane sugar, if you please,” says the mistress of the house, who has come to take a look at me but after a moment vanishes to tell her relatives in the neighborhood that they have a rare visitor from who knows where. Tea and the Mountain Gods, a Story of Cultural Diversity “This tea is grown at high altitudes in the heart of the island, at around 6,500 feet above sea level near the Adam Mountain. That was where Adam came down from Heaven to Eden and he first touched earth at the very summit. But the tea in this area is name
d after the highest situated town Nuwara Eliya, which in Sinhalese means “town of radiance.” “Tea is cultivated in other places as well,” my host informs me. “Don‘t forget to try the tea from the area named after the ancient town of Kandy, which is classified as a “low mountain” tea.” Then he goes on, “The teas from the high mountains produce a lighter brew, while the lowland teas are very dark and you must put a little milk and sugar in them. Teas from the Uva or Haputale areas are of outstanding quality, and this is mainly to do with the South-West monsoon, and so the best harvest is in the August–September season. By contrast the harvest in the Dimbula and Dickoya areas is dependent on the North-West and the best quality is to be picked in the January–February season.” While my host has been speaking the hut has filled up with several men and a quantity of children, who after a while are shooed back over the threshold. The tea is poured into small ceramic bowls and the tea extract that has formed in the tin pot is diluted with boiling water.
The next to speak is the eldest of the brothers, as we later learned. “I hope that on your tea travels you will also visit the summit of Sumanakúta” (7,300 feet above sea-level). “And where is that?” I pretend to be scared, since I had a feeling. “Buddha once came to this country to turn the wicked cannibal tribes – the Rakshashi – to the true faith. To show his supernatural power and ability to transport himself anywhere, he put one foot north of the royal city Anurádhapura and the second foot on the top of the mountain I mention. In both places he left a deep footprint (the two places are about 100 miles from each other). In the 1st century BC, King Vattagámani had a Buddhist monastery built at the place of the footprint near the royal city, and both these footprints of the “Enlightened
One” are much venerated.” “But that is the summit of the same mountain that -,” I start a joke, anticipating the reactions of those present. “Yes indeed, and the Hindus believe that the summit of the mountain is a holy place too, where their highest deities live,” the answer comes back, confirming my view that I am witness to the purest example of religious tolerance. But I have not yet heard enough and so I ask, “And what about Muslims?” “There are also a lot of them living here and they are mostly descendants of long ago traders of spices and precious stones, who settled here for good, especially on the coast. You won’t find them in the interior. There the majority is Indian Tamils, who were moved here by the British to work on the tea plantations,” explains my host pouring the rest of the fine black tea into the earthenware bowl.
Later, sitting in the bus taking me to the interior while the driver uses all his skill to avoid the trucks full of fresh tea chests, I notice the signs on the truck sides. From the names of companies like AKBAR Brothers, ISMAIL T.A.M., and ABDUL HUSEIN & Sons it is clear that the descendants of the old Arab traders are still doing a lively business today. James Taylor – the British tea pioneer – in 1867 far-sightedly planted the first 19 acres of tea plants in the garden of Loolencondera, a move thoroughly justified by the results, and the fact that a century later the island Lanka was to earn the suffix Srí, meaning “brilliant” or also “fortunate”. The tea plant at the time became a symbol of religious harmony. How else could the plant be regarded when it was picked on the land of the Buddhist Sinhalese, processed by the nimble hands of the Hindu Tamils and then transported to the tea houses of Christian Europe by Muslim traders?
Time cannot, however, be held back and for a long time now S
rí Lanka has not been as fortunate as its inhabitants wished for it to be in the times when the local tea was still called Ceylon. At least, may our choice of teas be fortunate, we have
teas from the gardens of the Nuwara Eliya and Kandy regions for the clients of Dobrá Tea. by Jirka Simsa