• Galle Face Green vendors share their fluttering hopes

As the colourful hues of kites paint the skies, a timeless tradition unfurls across the sun-kissed plains of Galle Face Green. Amidst the fluttering of colourful creations and the laughter of eager enthusiasts, lies a narrative of resilience and adaptation within the age-old craft of kite-making.

In this kaleidoscope of tradition, the price tags dangling from each kite tell a tale of their own. Do customers still gravitate towards the humble paper kites, steeped in centuries of tradition, or do they seek the allure of durability in imported alternatives? Beneath the surface, a complex web of manufacturing and supply dynamics unfolds, as artisans grapple with the scarcity of materials and the relentless march of globalisation. Amidst these challenges, the resilience of Sri Lanka’s kite vendors shines through, their hands weaving dreams into every kite, even as they navigate the winds of change.

A newcomer to the green

Under the scorching sun of a bustling afternoon at the green, amidst the anticipation of kite season, we encountered Janaka, a newcomer to the vibrant world of kite vending, on his first day on the job. With hope gleaming in his eyes and kites neatly arranged, he shared his aspirations while awaiting his first sale.

Since kite season is starting to pick up, he’d decided to get a few and set up shop on the green. At the time we spoke to him, which was around 3 p.m., he said he was yet to sell any kites, but reckoned sales would pick up towards the evening, when the sun wasn’t as strong. “Since it’s my first day, I’m not too sure what to expect, and I can only hope that people will still come out despite the heat warnings. It’s really hard even for us to stand here in the sun and hope for sales, so we will have to see how today goes in order for me to decide if this is a lucrative career for me,” he shared.

Guarding family legacy

Nearby, Nava, a seasoned vendor, guarded his family’s legacy with both pride and concern, reflecting on the challenges faced by generations of kite sellers. Initially hesitant to engage with us, Nava’s guarded demeanour spoke volumes of the caution borne from past encounters. With a sigh, he revealed a harsh reality: the exploitation of his vulnerability by those masquerading as well-meaning storytellers, only to profit from his struggles on social media platforms like YouTube and TikTok. Yet, beneath this protective exterior lies a legacy woven through generations, tracing back to his forefathers who bestowed upon him the timeless art of kite-making and selling.

Despite the weight of years resting upon his shoulders, Nava stands tall, a stalwart guardian of tradition fuelled by unwavering determination and pride. In his weathered hands, the thread of heritage intertwines with the fabric of resilience, a testament to the enduring spirit of generations past and the indomitable human will to persevere.

Despite his seasoned expertise, Nava grappled with the harsh reality of changing times. The scorching sun not only tested their endurance but also threatened the vibrant hues of their handcrafted kites, symbolic of a fading heritage. Like Janaka, he too had set up a few kites on display, but kept most in the bags, telling us: “The sun is too hot these days, so we cannot put the kites out for display as they lose their colour. This obviously attracts less customers as the temptation to fly a kite is not there if they can’t see any kites, but there is nothing we can do about the weather.”

Traditional paper versus durable plastic

Upon closer examination of the kite market, a stark duality emerged among the vendors’ offerings. Nava, with a weathered smile, delineated the divide – a juxtaposition of imported marvels from distant lands and the cherished relics of Sri Lanka’s heritage.

With a discerning eye, Nava unveiled the dichotomy: imported kites, crafted from cloth and plastic and sourced from distant shores, juxtaposed against the cherished Sri Lankan counterparts, meticulously fashioned from eakle and paper. In the marketplace of demand, the allure of durability casts a shadow over local craftsmanship, driving a wedge between tradition and modernity.

“The Chinese-made kites are more in demand because they are assumed to be more durable, but since they are not made locally we charge Rs. 1,000-1,500 per kite. The local one is only Rs. 500,” Nava explained. Navigating this labyrinth of consumer preference, Nava grappled with a conundrum – a tug-of-war between affordability and quality.

While the imported marvels commanded a higher price, their resilience found favour among patrons. In contrast, the humble local kites, priced more modestly, faced scrutiny for their perceived fragility, relegating them to the side-lines of consumer preference. “Because of this, kite sales are really very low these days, and it’s understandable: people don’t have money to eat, let alone fly kites.”

Amidst economic adversity, the resounding call for recognition and support reverberated – a plea to the authorities to safeguard a cherished tradition from the relentless march of modernity. “Our governments fail to understand. We get a lot of foreigners visiting Galle Face but since the tourists we get are mostly backpackers, they don’t tend to spend money. Despite our locals not having money to spare, most of my sales come from our people,” he opened up.

Another challenge he struggles with is sourcing materials to build kites locally. With raw resources dwindling and quality diminishing, the age-old craft of kite-making faces an existential threat, echoing the broader struggle of preserving cultural heritage in a globalised world. “Everything is being exported these days. Eakle is becoming harder and harder to find, and what we do find are the low-quality leftovers. Even paper is being sent out. All our local treasures are leaving the country, leaving us with nothing but shoddy products. This is why it’s hard to build anything that will last,” he lamented.

Strings of survival

Reflecting on the uncertain horizon that lay ahead, Nava’s sombre tone mirrored the prevailing uncertainty of our times. “Tomorrow’s promise remains elusive. The pace at which society evolves leaves us questioning the place of cherished traditions like kite-making and the enduring legacy of vendors like ourselves,” he mused.

Gazing into the past through the lens of nostalgia, Nava lamented the bygone era when time flowed leisurely and simple pleasures adorned the fabric of daily life. “Gone are the days,” he sighed, “when the joy of flying a kite lingered in the hearts of many. Today, survival eclipses sentimentality, as the chase for sustenance takes precedence over the preservation of tradition.”

With a steadfast resolve, Nava appealed to the authorities, beseeching them to acknowledge the plight of vendors entrenched in the annals of history. “We are not relics of the past,” he implored, “but custodians of a cultural heritage that transcends generations. It is vital that the powers recognise our struggle and extend a hand of support, offering viable solutions to safeguard our legacy and preserve the essence of our shared history.”

As the sun glared down on us, casting a white hot hue over the green, the plight of Janaka and Nava resonated as a poignant reminder of resilience amidst adversity. Their unwavering dedication to a timeless tradition echoed through the ages, a testament to the enduring spirit of community and heritage. As they looked towards an uncertain future, one thing remained steadfast – their fervent hope for recognition and support from those entrusted with safeguarding their legacy. In Sri Lanka’s cultural landscape, the humble kite vendors stand as unsung heroes, weaving threads of tradition into the fabric of modernity.