INGOYA
1960/61
(1500 acres approx)
(Acting PD 4-6 months)

    This The name Ingoya is derived from the Sinhala words ING (a name) + Oya, meaning small river or stream. This river ran along the northern boundary of the plantation.

    The David Lean film The Bridge On The River Kwai was filmed, in the main, on the Kelani Ganga(36) but some of the massacre scenes were filmed on the Ing Oya. Also, the PD at the time was a young man with tousled blonde hair and the physical attributes akin to those of a prisoner of war. As a result of this, the filmmakers invited him to participate as an extra in the film. The Company having granted him permission he did so, earning his salary as well as the pay of a film extra!

     In total, Ingoya was about 1500 acres of rubber of which 300-500 acres at the highest elevations had been abandoned except for some tapping, which was being done until the remaining resources were exhausted. This area had been deemed too high in elevation to be productive - the maximum elevation considered suitable for rubber being 1000 ft. above sea level. For the plantation as a whole high rainfall was a negative factor as the Ingoya average per annum was 100 inches. Too much rainfall, or more correctly, too many wet days adversely affect tapping, and hence yield, because if the tapping panels on the trees were wet the latex ran down the side of the cut and was wasted; furthermore the damp helped the penetration of parasitic fungi into the tree. The plantation started a few hundred yards from the main road near Kitulgala, at an elevation of about 300 ft. and ascended to about 1500 ft. The PD's bungalow, five miles by road from the gate, was one of the many post war ones built by the Company and was almost at the top of the plantation, with commanding views to the north and west, the former over lower elevation mountains and valleys, and the latter down the Kelani river valley almost to the sea. For some reason the rear of the bungalow faced the western views and the front a hillside. Early one morning, the entire valley to the west was full to the top with cloud; like a flat, dense blanket of cotton wool and, as I watched, a small but dense wisp of cloud rose from the middle as if a giant hand had grasped a little wool with two fingers and tweaked it upwards. A couple of minutes later, the whole blanket started to rise and disperse in the morning sun. It was surreal. However, these views were no compensation for the hot and steamy conditions and the millions of mosquitoes which used to arrive at the bungalow in dense waves almost exactly just after 4 pm every day. These were the small ones with itchy bites, and they were followed later by a similar waves of half inch sized ones who stayed the night.

      Up to some time in the late forties there was an SD on Ingoya but this post was abolished and the bungalow demolished.

    The factory was a few hundred yards below the PD's bungalow, about a kilometre by road, as were the clerical and factory staff bungalows and the office was at the back of, and part of, the garage positioned at the side of the front lawn. The land up to the PD's bungalow was steep and there were two roads up to it. The original one, most probably the old horse track widened, ran straight up the hill and was so steep that it was said that the only way that PDs of old could get their cars up it was to come up in reverse gear (and presumably in reverse too!). Not too long before 1960 however, someone had cut a road at a lesser gradient well below and past the side of the bungalow where it turned on itself and continued up to the garage apron adjacent to the front lawn. The point of describing all this is that, by the time the clerks walked up to the office, by either road, they were so hot and sticky that work was difficult, if not impossible for some time. They had asked my predecessor whether they could be driven to and from the office in the company car and had, understandably, been granted their request.

     One of the things I had to do on Ingoya was to write a report on its viability for the Board, via GS &Co who would have recently taken over the administration of the CTP plantations. The report was to assist the Board in deciding on whether to sell the place. The report had to take into account the other minor crops being grown, as well as the advisability of continuing manufacture on site because of the high rainfall, and attendant high humidity, and the problems that that caused with the drying of the rubber "laces". Because of long drying times these laces attracted mildew with a consequent downgrading of quality and, therefore, price. The minor crops were citronella grass from which oil was extracted (a few acres under power lines), pepper vines and nutmeg trees.

    This being another "Act" for me I was overlooked from Dewalakande, some forty-five minutes away, by my last PD on Dewalakande who was, by then, becoming quite an authority on rubber and, and because of the prominence of Dewalakande amongst rubber plantations, at least in its wider region, getting VAing too.

    Ingoya was an isolated plantation - miles from anywhere even after the five miles to the gate. Perhaps, because of this it had developed a sort of "island" culture. The departing PD was of retirement age and was departing for good. He was a very kind-hearted man and this, together with the isolation(37) and the ten years or so he had been on Ingoya, seemed to have resulted in the many things that were going on, many with that PD's permission, that just could not be condoned for various reasons, unless the place was a non-profit, benevolent institution. An example in the field was a gang of twenty or twenty-five senior men, of whom many were nearing the pensionable age of sixty-five, who formed the road maintenance detail and appeared to me to be malingering most of the time. One day I discovered that they were not at work during the afternoon and, on enquiring as to the reason, was informed that because of their age they had been given permission to go home after the mornings work was done. I asked whether they were paid half a day's wage and was told that they were paid for the full day. I revoked that concession. After that and the general tightening up that I did, which I cannot now recall and which I think, therefore was not particularly serious, the Thalaivar, or Thalaivars, came to me and complained about the changes I was making. I explained to them that the CTP was seriously thinking of selling Ingoya and that I had come to assess whether this should be done. I also impressed upon them the truth that, if it were to be sold, some cheapskate native person would buy it and they knew what that would mean for them - they did. I had no overt trouble from anyone after that but I did carry a cricket wicket in the car with me just in case, and because those five miles to the bungalow were a very lonely five miles at night.

   Part of the workforce was Sinhalese from neighbouring villages, and these formed a significant part of one of the weeding gangs. In this gang was a slim and attractive "village maiden" who, perhaps unwittingly, gained my attention by constantly gazing at me. Over time, I had heard tales of village girls having affairs with PDs and SDs and, after a while, the one-eyed snake got the better of my mind. As a result, one afternoon when the weeders were weeding the borders of my bungalow garden, I went over to them and told the girl to go and weed the flowerbed by a window. This was my bedroom window the curtains of which I had drawn closed. I went into the bungalow and to the bedroom and invited the fair maiden in through the window. Much to my alarm and embarrassment she bolted across the lawn to the safety of the other women and I, metaphorically speaking, bolted the other way! I was concerned about embarrassment, not trouble. However, anticipating the possibility of trouble, I picked up my gun box, went to the office, and told the HC that I was going off to get my gun license renewed. These were being renewed at the time. I did not return till late at night and not a word was heard nor a sign seen in regard to my stupidity.

    The following incidents would have been funny if they had not been important even though, from a broader viewpoint, I could not help but be amused, though I did not show it.

    The factory RM was a quaint character for whom the interaction of quality manufacture and worker discipline had long since lost its definition. Going round the factory one day I was walking past the men sorting sheets of white rubber and looking for blemishes that would consign the sheets to a lower grade, when I noticed red spots on some sheets. Looking further, I noticed that the windowsills next to the sorters were splashed with months or years of beetle spit. These workers were in the entrenched habit of chewing beetlenut whilst sorting white rubber. I was astounded and made this known to the RM and told him that this was to cease forthwith. I said nothing to the workers as they were not to blame. Some days later, as I came in through the front door of the factory, I noticed, on the further side of the factory, a worker on a chair, inside the factory, having his hair cut by the resident barber. This, in a factory supposed to be making pure white rubber! This time I did not say anything to anyone; I just stood where I was near the door and stared - and in a few seconds both barber and client were gone.

    The only phone in the office was on the PD's desk, a most inconvenient arrangement for all concerned and, one day, the HC, a gentle and courteous man, was talking on the phone to someone. I was looking down doing something at my desk when I got the feeling that something was not quite right. I looked at the HC and noticed that he was hunching over a little and had the ear end of the handset pointing down and not at his ear. This was a mystery to me and I thought 'Ingoya is certainly a place of odd occurrences!' Later I diplomatically asked the HC about his phone style and he said that he was deaf, and that the receiver of his hearing aid was in his shirt. Whilst on the subject of the phone, I heard the HC talking to the RM one day. It transpired that a shipment of rubber was due to leave the factory that day but that the RM had no labels to tie on the bales. (It would take days to re-order and receive labels)(38) I asked for the phone and asked the RM to repeat to me his problem. I told him off for allowing his stock of labels to run out and asked him how it happened. His reply, quite innocent and genuine, was 'Don't know, Sir, this morning I put the hand (and) - nothing!' He was referring to the pigeonholes in his desk.

    At stock take each month there was a fairly significant shortfall in the stock of petrol and the RM's explanation was that this was always the case and due to the heat of the (firesafe concrete) bunker in which the petrol was stored. I did not swallow that one and set about trying to find out what was going on. I was either told, or deduced from something I had seen or heard, that every weekend the RM rode to Kandy (at least two hours away) and back on his motorcycle to see his family. I did not punish him but must have had a quiet word or two in his ear because the petrol stock stopped evaporating.

    The viability report on Ingoya was written by me, and sent off, with me having put together the agricultural side of things and the Dewalakande PD the majority of the factory and manufacturing side. Naturally, this was preceded by us discussing, over time, the pros and cons of a range of relevant issues. No recommendations were made either way in regard to the sale of the property, but it would be fair to assume from present recollections, that the report was not a positive one overall. A copy was sent to Dewalakande and I got a phone call from that PD. The first thing he said was, 'You bloody fool!' Asked why, he said that I had stated in the report that he was responsible for the factory and manufacturing aspects in it and that he should be given credit for that. I replied that that was how it was, that all I had done was give credit where credit was due and that I was not one to take the credit for what someone else had done.

    The PD who took over from me was the next senior to me in the company and was a rather insecure, apprehensive person. This was once well illustrated by the PD on Dewalakande who, though not well acquainted with this person had heard about him, on hearing his name mentioned once said, 'Ah, yes. He is the one who, if a labourer farts in the field, thinks he is suffering from gunshot injuries!' This characteristic was well demonstrated during this PD's stock take. He was so painstaking with the rubber stocks that this took about three times longer than it need have taken. With the paint stocks, some of the drums were hard and useless, and with the tools, there was an awful mess because about thirty percent (Rs 3000 is a figure that comes to mind) was missing for various "Ingoya style" reasons - some were with this one and some with that one, some were on loan and so on. He started fussing and I was getting fed up because the whole business was taking far too long. So I said to him, 'Just write there, "unusable" or "missing" and "Written off", but the poor chap started to hum and haw and get worked up, so I took the stock book from him, wrote "Written off", signed it and said,' Now if this creates any problems, I will answer for it.'

    In due course I left to go on four months furlough and, for the first and last time, felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders despite the fact that I had at no stage felt any stress. This made me realise the wisdom of the Company's decision to give all its executive staff furlough.

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