Twilight Reminiscences 31 – The Diplomat

The recent furore about the speech made at the recent World Economic Forum by our Minister of Industry and Entrepreneurship Development, Sunil Handunnetti reminded me of my old friend the diplomat.

Handunetti, who had established such an excellent reputation as an honourable member of parliament and Chairman of the Parliamentary Committee on Public Enterprises, made a hash of his appearance at the WEF by speaking poorly in English – when he could quite sensibly have spoken in Sinhalese and utilised an efficient interpreter – as many non-Anglophone leaders do at international gatherings.

Over four hundred years ago the English poet and diplomat Sir Henry Wooton famously described an ambassador as “an honest gentleman sent to lie abroad for the good of his country”. Having served abroad for many years – and even lying a bit in the service of our country – my friend has a fund of stories which he would recount to me when he visitsed, almost always with a delectable bottle of diplomatic wine for us to share.

The story of which I was reminded when I was reading about Minister Handunetti’s speech was the one my friend shared with me about the time many years ago when he was serving in our mission in Italy and was tasked with accompanying one of our ministers who was visiting that country as part of an official delegation.

Now this particular Minister had become a member of the legislature purely by virtue of the regular and generous contributions he used to make to the political party that wrested power at the previous general election. The party rewarded him (as winning parties were wont to do, bestowing senate seats and chairmanship of corporations on political donors) by appointing him to the Senate and then making him a Minister. In those days the Senate, which was abolished when Sri Lanka became a republic was useful to ruling parties because they could reward donors and politically useful folk who could not survive the hustings – just like the parliamentary National List can be utilised today.

 This poor Senator could not (even by the greatest stretch of imagination) have been described as a good speaker in any language. He was one of those folk who spoke poor Sinhalese and poorer English. Being on his first overseas trip, however, he was keen on making speeches at every opportunity – and when the delegation was visiting the municipal council of one Italian town, not only did he insist on making a speech to the local members, he even wanted to speak to them in our national language.

My diplomat friend, who spoke fluent Italian, realised the Minister could not be dissuaded. He thereupon offered to simultaneously translate the Minister’s words into Italian while the Minister spoke in Sinhalese – which offer was happily accepted.

The speech the Minister made that day is still remembered (so my friend tells me) as one of the best speeches ever made by a visiting politician to that town. At one point, the Minister even related a particularly longwinded joke (in Sinhalese) which surprisingly evoked uproarious peals of laughter from the audience. Naturally the Minister, who had never evoked such applause on the infrequent occasions that he addressed a gathering in Sri Lanka, was duly pleased.

What actually happened that day was that after every sentence the Minister spoke in Sinhalese, my friend dutifully translated, not what the Minister actually said, but what my friend felt should be said (which was quite different to the Minister’s words!). When it came to the joke, my friend merely told the audience in fluent Italian “My minister has just related a very funny story. Unfortunately, the humour will be lost if I translate this into Italian. So may I please request all of you to laugh loudly in appreciation of this great joke!” The Minister fortunately knew no Italian – and for years afterwards used to describe his trip to Italy as one of the best times of his life!

Another of my friend’s tales related to the time that Dudley Senanayake was visiting London after he had become Prime Minister of Sri Lanka (then known as the Dominion of Ceylon) for the first time. Now, although Dudley had been to England previously as a young university student, this was his first visit to that country as Prime Minister of the independent Dominion of Ceylon. Needless to say he was a trifle nervous about the whole business. On his first day there he was afforded the privilege of travelling with the Queen from Westminster Abbey to Buckingham Palace – and, as was considered appropriate for the visiting head of government of a commonwealth country, Prime Minister Senanayake was seated next to the Queen in a posh horse-drawn carriage for this journey. After responding to Her Majesty’s initial polite inquiries about his trip, his health and the Ceylonese weather, Dudley (for want of further topics to converse about) spent his time seated in state next to Her Majesty, silently admiring the stately London buildings they were passing.

Unfortunately, one of the horses drawing the royal carriage that day must have had a bit of an upset stomach because it kept passing wind every few minutes. Now when horses break wind the noise can be quite loud – but not only was the equine flatulence particularly noisy in this instance, it was also quite offensive. After a while even the Queen must have been feeling embarrassed, because following one particularly noisy passage of gas she turned to Dudley and said “Oh, Prime Minister, I do apologise!”

Ever the gallant gentleman, Dudley promptly turned to the Queen and said expansively, “That’s quite alright, Your Majesty – I did not realise it was you. For a moment as a matter of fact I was thinking it was the horse.”

I am afraid I do not know what Queen Elizabeth responded – but suffice to say that She was not amused!