Since the Easter bombings, the community has faced violence and vilification. Many think there may be worse to come. Fri 15 Nov T he phone calls began two months ago from an unknown number. Hilmy Ahmed, the vice-president of the Sri Lanka Muslim Council, did not recognise the voice but there was no mistaking the threats: throw your support behind Gotabaya Rajapaksa for president or we will set fire to your house, rape your wife and then kill your family.
The election, happening against a backdrop of some of the worst violence and political instability the country has faced since the end of the civil war a decade ago, could prove a decisive moment, with everything from human rights to sectarian harmony hanging in the balance.
Most precarious of all is the place of Muslims in Sri Lankan society. On Easter Sunday this year, self-radicalised Islamist extremists carried out multiple bombings, killing people in churches and hotels and shaking the foundations of the country, pitting communities who had lived harmoniously against each other. Since then, the lives of many Muslims have been thrown into turmoil. Some were attacked and shops and homes were destroyed by Sinhala Buddhist mobs, and some were arbitrarily arrested.
Women were banned from wearing headscarves in public, and in July newspaper front pages carried the unsubstantiated story of a Muslim doctor who had allegedly sterilised 8, Sinhala Buddhist women without their knowledge. For many people who lost family in the Easter attacks, reconciliation with their Muslim neighbours seems impossible. Her father, Narayanan George Chadrasekaran, was among those killed.
It is sad because we always got along before. My dada only worked with Muslims, they were his friends, and they would bring biriani to our house during Ramadan.
