Death to the Trees

From my van­tage point in this new kuti up in the moun­tain, I look down upon the val­ley below. Even though this is the vassa, in Sri Lanka it’s the dry sea­son, and every evening I am the audi­ence to glo­ri­ous sun­sets, each unique and as beau­ti­ful as the other. The air is hazy from the fires in the dry paddy fields: farm­ers burn­ing the hay to pre­pare their lands for the next round of rains.

Today the sky is illu­mi­nated with bright orange, and orna­mented with swaths of deep red in the hori­zon. As I enjoy the slow dance of colour in front of me, a dif­fer­ent kind of red and orange beyond the val­ley catches my eye: a for­est fire.

The north­ern face of the moun­tain which is home to the Sudugala For­est Monastery is burn­ing. It is not a pretty sight.

There are no peo­ple liv­ing down there, and it is quite far from the monastery. It’s a pro­tected gov­ern­ment reserve, home to trees and ani­mals. Ele­phants live there.

Almost half of the face of the moun­tain is already ash. Giant tounges of fire lap up trees around the edge of a grow­ing patch of black and grey and smoke. Was it some vil­lager try­ing to cre­ate a bar­rier so that the ele­phants don’t come down to the vil­lage, as they some­times do? Or is some­one try­ing to grab land for his hena?

I find another fire – of rage – burn­ing inside me. I turn away from the window.