She is part of a generation that knew nothing but the war, a childhood shaped by conflict, yet, carried forward by memory. Today, we step beyond her art to meet the woman behind it: a voice from Jaffna whose recollections of home, resilience, and quiet beauty remind us that memory is not just what we keep, but what we fight to preserve. This is her story of survival, belonging, and the fragments of hope that endure. She is Catharina Danial, whom I met on Kaleidoscope Dialogues.

 Following are excerpts of the interview:

Given that you grew up in Sri Lanka, shaped by conflict and uncertainty, what are some of your earliest memories of Jaffna that remain with you even today?

It is very important to talk about memories and also about Jaffna. I was born and raised in Jaffna in 1991, during the war, so I have many experiences. If I share all of them, time will not be enough. One memory that stands out is the displacement in 1996. We travelled in bullock carts, and even today I can still remember the sound of those carts. That is one of my earliest memories of the war. 

I can also say that even during wartime, there were happy memories. Between the war, and beyond the war, there were many beautiful moments with my grandmother, my neighbours, and the people of Jaffna. I feel that those memories are just as important to express.

You spoke about beautiful memories. However, we always see only the dark side of the war. What are some of those beautiful memories?

I want to speak about my grandmother and how we lived before and during the war. I focus a lot on the kitchen because that is where life happened for us. Through food, my grandmother taught me so much. We spent time together cooking, and she shared stories about life before the war, how the war started, and how people lived through it. She talked about everything. Those conversations are still with me today, and I continue to carry those memories. They are the stories that I most want to share.

You mentioned the kitchen. What is it that you remember about it?

During the war, we were displaced from place to place, but, wherever we went, we always found a way to cook. Somehow, we made rotis and rice — that is how we survived. My grandmother always taught me how to cook, and we had traditions that brought the family together. One memory is what we called ‘moon rice’. Even during times of bombing, we would gather as a family. We would mix leftover rice together, and after dark, my grandmother would roll it into balls and give one to each person. In that way, she helped us move beyond fear and created comforting memories. Maybe that is one of the reasons that I’m who I’m today.

When you think of home, what comes to mind first?

 Definitely my house, our simple old home, and especially the kitchen with my grandmother. That is what home means to me. That is where I grew up.

For many people who lived through the war, memory is often fragmented. Are there other moments from your childhood that have remained frozen in your mind?

A: Yes. I can speak about the final stages of the war when I was around 17 years old. We had no food, we had nothing, and we lost relatives. We struggled in many ways. At that time, I wondered how we would survive. But, somehow, we fought through it and somehow, we survived. That period remains frozen in my mind even today.

What did resilience look like for you during your growing-up years?

Resilience is closely connected to women. It is about how they managed to live through the war, how they fought for their families, survived with very little, and still found ways to comfort their children. They managed with whatever they had and continued moving forward. That is resilience to me. As a woman from Jaffna, I feel that resilience is about becoming stronger through what we experienced. Despite the struggles and hardships, we still had the confidence to continue living our lives.

Given that there was a 30-year war, what traditions have disappeared and what traditions have remained?

One thing that has disappeared is the joint family lifestyle. We used to spend so much time together in the kitchen, sharing rituals and conversations as a family. Today, because of phones and modern lifestyles, those interactions happen less often. I remember asking endless questions from my grandparents and learning through those conversations. That way of life is slowly disappearing. At the same time, some traditions remain. There are cultural practices that have been passed down from my grandmother to my generation, and now to my sister’s daughter. Those traditions still exist and continue through the generations.

When, how and why did you come to Colombo?

I moved to Colombo in 2025 because I wanted to focus more on my art. I miss the depth of Jaffna because I was born and raised there. I feel deeply connected to the land and the people. But, moving has also made those memories stronger for me. 

At the same time, it has been good for my artistic journey. I am able to explore the art community more, and people recognise me as a Jaffna artist. I am proud that I can live and work in Colombo while continuing to express Jaffna through my art.

As a teenager, how difficult was it living in Jaffna at that time?

I was surrounded by grandparents, parents and neighbours who cared for me, especially as a teenage girl. They gave me advice, encouraged me and gave me hope. They always told me that I could achieve things and reminded me to stay safe. I did have fears about the future, but, somehow, we managed to move forward.

What are some of the quieter stories of Jaffna that the rest of Sri Lanka may not know? 

It is important to say that Jaffna is not only about the war. Whenever I speak about Jaffna, people immediately ask about the conflict. Yes, we faced many struggles and difficulties, but, beyond that, it is a beautiful place. We have a unique culture, traditions and way of life. People care deeply for one another. Through my artwork, I want to show people that Jaffna is much more than the war. It is a place of beauty, heritage and history. We have many valuable stories beyond the conflict.

Given that you belong to a generation that grew up during the war, do you feel that your generation looks at life differently?

Yes, definitely. I feel that there has been a big change since around 2010. Society has become more modernised, and some traditional aspects of life have been lost. At the same time, many traditions still continue. As someone who grew up in the 1990s, I can clearly feel the difference between the life that I experienced as a child and the way that life is today.

That is why, as an artist, I try to represent how life was. Those days were beautiful, and I want to preserve those memories.

If there was one memory or one feeling about Jaffna that you would want people to keep with them, what would it be?

It would be unity. I want younger generations to understand how we lived and what our lifestyle was like. I want to preserve the memory of that simple way of life and pass it on. Many young people today don’t know what it was like to live through the war, or how people rebuilt their lives afterwards. Younger generations don’t know the pain, but, they also don’t know the strength that came from it. That is why I use memories in my work—to show how we lived, how we moved forward, and how we found the confidence to become stronger.

The writer is the host, director, and co-producer of the weekly digital programme ‘Kaleidoscope with Savithri Rodrigo’ which can be viewed on YouTube, Facebook, Instagram and LinkedIn. She has over three decades of experience in print, electronic, and social media

---------

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the interviewee, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication