CYMRU (TANGAKELLE)

1954/55

     On my return to Cymru, Tangakelle had a new PD and one of the first things he did was to say to me something to this effect, 'Regarding that report, just put it behind you and lets prove that it was quite wrong.' This PD was in his early thirties, was from a farming family in England and therefore had a sound agricultural background. He was an innovative thinker and was completely free of airs and graces.

    Not long after my return to Cymru I was told by my gardener that the previous PD had often come to the Cymru bungalow to keep an eye on things in my absence, that he used to bring plants from his garden for mine, and that he once said, ' That SD is the best SD for you people.'

    Prior to this, Tangakelle had a piggery on Cymru containing a couple of dozen pigs and a boar, plus piglets. The main purpose of this piggery seemed to be the provision of urine and manure for addition to the large compost piles in the shed attached to it. Weeds were transported from the fields to the sheds where they were combined with the urine and manure to form large aerated heaps of 10 tons each, that were returned to the fields when ready. Some of this went into the PD's and SD's bungalow gardens with startlingly positive results. The new PD decided to husband the pigs on a commercial scale according to modern techniques and, in time, there were over two hundred animals on Cymru and on Walaha, where he had built another piggery.

     The stud boar was a huge beast. It was black, 6-7ft. long, about 2 1/2ft. tall at the shoulder and had very thick skin. Although very formidable looking, the look belied his true character. When he had got to know me I could stand next to him and pet him. At one time he got ill and the vet prescribed an injection of penicillin. It was decided that the best person to administer this was the Tangakelle Dispenser(22) . He was a relatively frail man who, on seeing the boar, was plainly fearful. Anyway, he duly prepared his syringe and tentatively approached the animal while the pig-keeper and I stood on either side of him, one towards the rear and the other towards the head. After a lot of dithering he finally had the needle correctly poised..……….. then pushed it in and pressed the plunger. To his consternation, and the pig-keeper's and my surprise (and subdued hilarity!), a perfect jet of fluid flew up into his face. In amazement he looked at the needle - there it was, bent in a half circle, pointing straight at him! The boar's skin was so thick that the needle did not penetrate. The poor Dispenser had had enough and was neither up to nor willing to have another go! Later, the vet came, filled a syringe, took the needle off it, slapped the needle into the pig's rump and, when he had come to a stop after a small squeal and a few steps, attached the syringe to the embedded needle and completed the job.

    In tea too, science was starting to modernise practices. The Tea Research Institute had been working on the vegetative propagation of tea and had selected a range of clones for commercial planting on a large scale. The intellectually dormant business of growing tea was on the move, and for many of us ahead lay a time of great strides. This PD was soon to start his own programme of VP selection, a few acquiring sufficient status to be planted on CTP plantations and trailed elsewhere, but whether on a large scale or not I am not sure. They bore the prefix of TK, and TK 9 was one of them.

    He also started the reclamation of ravines, having obviously done this previously. On all plantations up to ¼% of the acreage was waterlogged ravines and these could be drained and planted in tea. He would have the existing drains cleaned out and deepened if necessary, lay two lines of stones(23) in parallel about four inches apart, cover them with a line of flattish stones, cover the resulting tunnel with a complete layer of thatch, and then fill in the drains. After drained of water and cleared of troublesome grasses, these would be planted in tea.

    At one time my PD wanted to demonstrate to me one of the new methods of inducing spread in young tea plants, that of bending branches outwards horizontally, and made arrangements to meet me in No. 1 field at 2.30 one afternoon. At 2.30 that afternoon I walked past the appointed spot having totally forgotten the appointment. I was not a forgetful person, in fact, quite the opposite, but this was the day I did forget! About half an hour later, I was still doing my round when the PD comes up behind me in his car and says, 'Where the hell have you been?' THEN I remembered! I apologised profusely for my lapse; and he said, 'Half an hour ago I could have killed you, but now I am OK.' I don't think he even said, 'Don't do it again'. If he had it would have been unnecessary.

    In the factories tea was made, stored, packed and accounted for by weight. Hence, stocks in the factory at any time were by weight, and the weight depended on the moisture content of the tea. If my memory serves me correctly, the target maximum moisture-content in tea in the factory was around 3.4% to allow for an increase to around 8% on arrival in the UK. A plantation the size of Tangakelle would, based on yields at that time, carry a stock of, say, 100,000 lbs at any one time. If the records of manufacture were manipulated to show a moisture-content of 3.15% instead 3.4%, a .25 % reduction, the factory stocks would show 250 lbs less in stock than there should be - a hidden surplus.

   What was happening on many plantations at the time was that Tea Makers were doing this and smuggling out of the plantations, by many devious means, and usually at night, such "surpluses". The main reason that this practice was workable was the habit of executive staff to check stocks on the same day each month, usually the last day of the month. Some even gave notice of a stock take to the TM if it was not on the last day of the month. If stocks were checked without warning and at random, the TM would get caught with an unexplainable surplus.

   My PD received information that this was happening at his factory and arranged to be forewarned as to when it was next due to happen. He did not tell me about this. One night he was forewarned very early in the morning and phoned me but got no answer. So he sent his bungalow/office watchman to my house but I was not there. He then phoned the SD on Walaha who hurriedly drove the seven or so miles to Tangakelle and the two of them, with a few others I think, rushed to the factory and apprehended some workers in the act on behalf of the TM. I understand that a deft rugby tackle by the SD brought down one individual. I was only "out late" and not out for the night and I do not recall a dressing down. I do seem to recall that it was more a matter of my PD relating to me the sequence of events than complaining about my absence. In any event the rigidity with which these rules were applied was waning and we were moving to the times when all an SD had to do was advise his PD that he would be away for the night.

   On one January 1st during this stint on Cyrmu I had returned from the club in my dinner suit just in time for morning muster, but I did go up to the bungalow to change, although SDs conducting muster in their dinner suits was not unknown. That morning, in a very delicate state of health, I went round the fields keeping well away from any living being. I was simply flying the flag so to speak! Early in the morning, I was on the road leading from the PD's bungalow to the factory when I saw the PD's car approaching at a distance. In the twinkling of an eye I had leapt off the road and into the tea to become invisible in a drain - and the PD's car went past. He told me later that he had looked for me to ask me to check the plantation stocks, a big and fiddly job at the best of times, but, having failed to find me, had asked the junior SD, from Walaha, to do it. In due course, he apologised for having had to do this and I said that it was quite all right. I cannot recall what that SD had to say to me!

   There was one particular kangany who should never have been given supervisory duties. No doubt he got them because he was the head of a group of people he, or his antecedents, had brought out from India. Generally, this was, and had been, the criterion for appointment as a Kangany. He was a very small, old man whom no one respected in the field; in fact, workers used to treat him as a joke. He was a plucking Kangany and was always getting into trouble with me for bad supervision. One evening I had docked his pay for the whole day as a result of bad work and, as I was driving back home after work I passed him, small and frail, and hunched a little over his walking stick, and having lost a whole day's pay. I nearly wept. But what was one to do? For overall efficient management it was essential that one maintained discipline, especially where large workforces were concerned, such as those on plantations.

   I was concerned about the power I had over my workers. I could sack them, fine them or send them home for bad work or behaviour (with no pay for the rest of the day(24) ), but I was, really, very fond of them and, though strict, was always willing to help them, even with their personal problems. I had, in fact, a moral dilemma, and it was only about two years later, perhaps as a result of reading a book, that I resolved this. I came to understand that one had an equal responsibility to one's employer and to one's staff and workers - in the case of the latter, individually and collectively. In the broader context, the interests of the employer and those of the employee were inextricably linked. A good standard of work and good morale increased production and productivity to the benefit of both parties, and the converse was equally true.

   On one afternoon per week both PDs and SDs would have what was called "labour day". This was the main time when the "Thalaivar", the resident workers' union representative, or individual workers communicated with management and vice versa. Urgent matters could be raised at any time during any day and miscreants were sometimes told to attend for special attention. Small inquiries into breaches of the peace or discipline were held during these afternoon periods, but long inquiries were held at other times, some times over two or three days. Labour days were the time when workers could also seek help with personal and/or family matters and, in order to maintain the privacy of my home, no one was permitted within the garden except at "labour day" time. In any event, these sorts of matters were usually dealt with by the Head Kangany. One night my servant came to me and told me that there was a worker at the back wanting to see me. I told him to send the man away. He returned to say that the man would not leave, and I repeated what I had said before. He returned to say that the man would not leave. Angry, I got up, marched out to the back, and dealt the man a blow to the side of the head that sent him into the hedge and thence away. Nothing further was heard about this. Had he taken his problem to the Head Kangany and the latter, being unable to resolve it, had decided that it warranted my attention at such a time and come to see me with the man, my response would have been different.

   As in most plantations there were on Cymru, two unions, the DWC and the CWC, and one of the Thalaivars was named Veeriah, aged about thirty. He had a strong personality and a commitment to doing his union job well, and there was I with the same commitment. Consequently, when we met, the atmosphere was 'charged' - largely due to the inexperience of both. However, there was respect and discipline on both sides.

   In time, Veeriah so impressed me that I decided that he would excel as a kangany in the field and put this proposition to him one day. He thanked me and said, in effect, that he could not serve two masters at one time and, therefore, could not accept the offer, but went on to say that his term as Thalaivar would end in three months and that he would then gladly accept. Three months later he was appointed as a kangany.

   This appointment was a simple challenge for me but a huge one for Veeriah for he was a low cast Tamil in a predominantly high cast workforce; and low caste people did not give orders to high caste people! He did, however, have a quiet strength, a certain dignity, and he may have gained a certain amount of respect as Thalaivar. In any event, I considered the caste system immoral and totally unjustifiable and unacceptable in the workplace, so I made it known that I would not, under any circumstances, tolerate any disrespect to the new kangany. For his part he, from the very first day, dressed smartly in clean clothes, and looked the part. He also demonstrated an aptitude for the job. There was an occasion early in the piece when, at the start of work, fifty or sixty pluckers were squabbling over who would pluck which row of tea. Wasting no time, Veeriah solved the matter by getting them to draw lots - something I had never seen done before. His work proved to be good and there was no trouble about his caste as far as I was aware.

   One day when the PD was away, I was informed that the Tangakelle division Conductor had been assaulted by some workers and was badly injured. I went to my car and hurried to where he was, and found that he had a depressed fracture of the skull, two to three inches in diameter, and was in great pain. I drove him to the hospital and, on the way, he told me what had happened. He was on a field road in a remote part of the division when he was attacked by a few workers. In the course of the attack he fell off the road and was lying prone when one of the assailants hefted a large stone, about eighteen inches by nine inches, above his head and hurled it down at his, the Conductor's, head. Fortunately, it hit his head and the ground at the same time.

   My dog Emile was now about eighteen months old and I had trained him to go home from anywhere on the division if he was told to. He was quite docile unless he or I was threatened. At the end of each pay there was usually unpaid cash left over and, one day, I gave him the tied bag of cash and told him to take it home. This he did with great enthusiasm. I was sure that no one would dare try to take the bag from him. I did this a couple of times only.

   As there were Saak Kaarans there were Saak Kutties, a kutty being a young woman. These latter were the youngest of the pluckers and ranged in age between eighteen and, say, twenty-two years, and were detailed to assist at leaf weighing times and to carry the filled mesh sacks (about 45 lbs each if not over-filled) to the nearest lorry pick up point and one often passed one, some or all of them when in the fields. One of these, Sellamma, appeared to have fallen in love with me judging by the way she looked at me. She was tall and slim, but well proportioned, and if a wraith of temptation did arise, it was dismissed by me as any such association with one's female workers was taboo for two reasons: 1. It was against Company rules, and would result, we were told, in instant dismissal 2: one could be held to ransom by the girl's family and 3: it generally undermined one's ability to manage the workforce. This latter was borne out some months later when the Plucking KP told me that, that evening, Sellamma's uncle was coming to muster to confront me with the claim that she and I were having an intimate relationship. That evening the uncle approached me in the crowded weighing up area but, before he spoke, I said to him, in no uncertain terms, 'If you say what I think you are going to say, I will sack you!' He decided against saying anything and went away.

   A year or so later I visited the then SD on Cymru and Sellamma's father came up to me and told me that she had burned to death one day when her sari was ignited by the flame of a lamp in their home. He said, 'That happened because of what she said about you.' Naturally, I did not believe any such thing and said something in reply to soothe his mind and heart. In this incident is an indication of the true quality of these people. Occasionally, over the years, I have remembered this sad story and seen, in my minds eye, that poor girl with her lovelorn eyes. What thoughts, what hopes filled that heart and mind?

   Inevitably I moved on from Cymru and when I was driving away I was amazed and humbled by the whole gang of new field pluckers who stopped work and rushed down their rows to the edge of the embankment of the road to farewell me.

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