Amanda Jayatissa – “Writing about Yakkus and exorcisms was liberating”

Island Witch draws inspiration from local folklore. How did you fuse these elements into the story of a woman in colonial Sri Lanka?

I was always intrigued by stories about demons, possessions, and exorcisms. While growing up, I watched a lot of horror movies and enjoyed reading books in the genre. Since I never really saw any representation of how supernatural elements work in my culture, I thought it would be fun to explore this. For example, we have Yakku, which literally translates to demon, but it’s a little different from the demons that you might see in a western movie or book. I wanted to draw on such elements and look at exorcism through different lenses and perspectives. In Sri Lanka, we are quite superstitious; we believe in horoscopes, charms, and other such things.

Incidentally, while researching for Island Witch, one of the books that I read on demonology and witchcraft was published in Ceylon in the 1860s. It outlines a lot of practices which have remained unchanged to this day. I realised this during my conversations with capuwas (demon priests). Much of what they told me is precisely what has been documented in the book. My protagonist, Amara, walks around and describes different parts of Matara in the Southern Province, where I spent a lot of time. Though it’s quite modern, it still retains a lot of its old-world charm. The coastal town is steeped in superstition; it’s from here that punia (loosely translates to “curses”) and other darker rituals often originate. With the advent of colonialism, the town felt its impact earlier than other parts of the country; the last kings of Kandy struggled to maintain their stronghold and the area had to assimilate rapidly. Being able to navigate my way around and research new ideologies and religions was really interesting.

Amara, the daughter of a demon priest, faces ostracism and accusations of witchcraft. How does the novel explore social attitudes in the context of British colonisation?

The book is set in the 1880s. The Portuguese and the Dutch have come and gone, and the British are exerting their influence. Certain groups of people who sided with the British are rewarded with plots of land, while those who opposed them are ostracised in some manner. While there are many who have let go of Sri Lankan clothes completely and dress like the Englishman, there are others who find a middle ground and wear a sarong with a jacket; others are caught between the two. Amara’s father adheres to old-world traditions; he dresses in traditional sarongs.

But her best friend allies with the British fully, and even converts to Christianity; her family is rewarded for all this. Amara feels betrayed by her best friend. She questions her own identity and loyalty to her father, whom she loves. As she comes of age, she grapples with where she fits in a changing society. This is an interesting aspect because the lasting effects of colonisation are still felt today; British values and ideals have left a mark on Sri Lankan society. For example, while Sri Lankans traditionally eat with their hands, the British introduced the use of cutlery. Amara questions the notion of cleanliness and civility associated with these practices, pointing out that washing hands before and after eating can be just as clean, if not more so, than using cutlery.

The novel is written in the first person. How did you approach developing Amara’s character and what aspects of her journey did you find most compelling to explore?

Writing in first person allows me to delve deep into the character’s thoughts and feelings almost in real-time as they occur. To immerse myself in this perspective, I often start journaling as the character and really try to think like them. However, despite my efforts, I find that a lot of my own emotions and experiences tend to seep into the main character. It has been the same in all three of my books. When I was writing about Amara, much of what was happening in Sri Lanka at the time was deeply frustrating. We were amidst a political and economic crisis, and I felt a strong sense of anger and powerlessness. Despite our protests and efforts to help, there were limitations on what we could accomplish, and this frustration found its way into Amara’s character. Her quest to find power and agency mirrors the emotions many of us were experiencing during that tumultuous time.

For me, Amara’s story is not only a coming-of-age tale but also a reflection of the universal experience of feeling marginalised or “othered” at some point in our lives. As a young Sri Lankan woman in a time when women lacked agency and Sri Lankans as a whole faced similar challenges, Amara’s struggle resonates deeply with many. What inspired me to write from her point of view is the lack of diverse voices in the history of the region. I felt compelled to share her story as an attempt to give voice to an unheard voice of the past that has been largely overlooked in historical records. Most accounts of that time were written by British authors, with only a few by Sinhala men of a certain class. There is a notable absence of other viewpoints — of villagers, and women. I had to rely on imagination to fill in those gaps. I also took liberties in imagining what life might have been like for someone like Amara.

How much of yourself do you see in Amara?

Many of the issues women face persist to this day; women’s bodies are controlled, and they are not believed when they speak their truth. Perhaps some of us are not confined to our homes anymore — maybe they were in Amara’s time — but certain aspects of women’s subjugation are still there. Yes, we may have gained the right to own land and to vote but, at a fundamental level, many things haven’t changed. Besides, women from various parts of the world can relate to feelings of powerlessness across the board. I always joke that, except for maybe one or two characters, most characters would have a little piece of me in them. That includes everyone, even the antagonists, although there was one antagonist who had nothing of me in him. I like to make my characters as well-rounded as possible, giving them something I can connect with. Every character would have some aspect that resonates with me, whether it’s something positive or negative. They might have other flaws or strengths, but there will always be a little bit of me in them because that’s how I can make a character realistic.

How does the novel balance the mystical with mystery and what challenges or freedom did incorporating supernatural elements present for your storytelling? 

I love mysteries and plot-driven stories. I think it started with reading Enid Blyton’s Famous Five series. Those were the first books I remember reading when I was really young. Because of that, I’ve always had this idea that there should be some element of mystery in a story. It’s something I try to incorporate when I write. I centre my stories around the main character trying to solve or fix something. That’s what drives the story forward. Writing about the supernatural is fun because I have a vivid imagination. My first two books are contemporary thrillers, but I still found a way to mention ghosts. With Island Witch, it was amazingly freeing to be able to lean into it fully. The prospect of writing about Yakku, demons, and gods was thrilling to me.

How did you navigate the intersection of personal stories with broader historical and political contexts?

It’s one of the most challenging, but also the most rewarding, aspects of writing to balance this out. Because, at the end of the day, readers will always want to form a connection with a single person’s story. If you spend too much time discussing the political climate or other social issues, it ends up becoming a book that’s only about that. I love the challenge of trying to navigate and provide some sort of commentary without letting it overshadow the story itself. There will be a plot/mystery or something else to propel the story forward. It gives me the opportunity to inspect some issues through a certain lens. Being able to balance that out is where I think I’m still honing my skills. It’s always a push-pull, especially because I have a lot of opinions about a lot of things. Sometimes it’s hard to pull yourself back because you don’t want to just have your character on a soapbox, delivering big speeches. After a while, you’ll lose your readers; there has to be something else. As for Island Witch, it’s also a book about the clash of cultures, about the way women are treated throughout history, about how their voices are usually stifled, and how they are often vilified. Amara’s story is important and I want readers to try to connect with it as much as possible.

How does Island Witch explore or challenge notions of identity and belonging?

I grew up in Colombo, where my family lives. Then, I lived in the California Bay Area, where I attended university and made friends. After marriage, I lived in the UK for a while before moving back to Sri Lanka. We spent many years here before finally moving to Portugal. But the first time I went to the US, I asked myself, “Who am I? Where do I fit in this very big picture?” Growing up in Colombo felt like living in a bubble; I was protected but I didn’t recognise my privilege. In the US, most people didn’t even know where Sri Lanka was; I had to point it out on a map. I often heard, “Oh, you’re from India,” and I would have to correct them, saying, “Sri Lanka is a completely different country.” That’s where I realized the idea of values and cultural shifts and how much of ourselves we’re always discovering.

I always had the support of my family, but I wondered what if I didn’t? This is where a lot of Amara’s character comes from. She’s trying to figure herself out but feels like she doesn’t have anyone to turn to. That feeling of loneliness is very distinctive, something many young women, and perhaps young men, face when they’re starting to venture out into the world. They’ve grown up with certain ideas and values, and suddenly, those are being challenged. They’re unsure if this challenge is positive or negative. They’re afraid to hold on, but also afraid to let go. I believe most of us, at some point, have asked ourselves, “Who am I, and where do I fit in this crazy world?” That’s what Amara is dealing with as well.

Shireen Quadri is the editor of The Punch Magazine Anthology of New Writing: Select Short Stories by Women Writers.