Awwe Yana Aganunne Lyrics by Athma Liyanage

Out in the sun, the day’s worth
when for a whole shift there was no work
hungry along with the long hours
oh, give us a little treacle
oh, give us a little treacle

Here now, where is the tapper
which way has the tapper gone
here now, where is the tapper
which way has the tapper gone
the tapper who climbed to the shaded blossom
the tapper who brings treacle by evening
the tapper who brings treacle by evening

Even after I asked, he scored the sap-flower
and made good, good treacle
even after I asked, he scored the sap-flower
and made good, good treacle
he shared the little lumps out to me
he made the whole household’s mouth sweet
he made the whole household’s mouth sweet

This is a cheerful village work song built around the kithul tapper, the man who climbs the fishtail palm to draw its sweet sap. In old Sri Lankan village life he was a familiar figure, the one who brought home the treacle and jaggery that sweetened everyone’s food, and the song is sung in the warm, half-teasing voice of people waiting on him.

It opens with the hard side of the day. Out under the sun, hours pass with no work to show for it, and hunger sets in along with the long stretch of the afternoon. Then comes the small, hopeful call that runs through the whole song: “oh, give us a little treacle.” That one line carries the mood of the piece, the simple longing for something sweet at the end of a tiring day.

The middle is all about looking for him. “Where is the tapper, which way has he gone?” The “nilla male” he climbs to is the kithul’s flowering stalk, the inflorescence high up in the shade of the palm. To get the sap, the tapper scores and beats that flower stalk, then ties a pot under it so the sweet liquid drips in overnight. That is the whole craft hiding behind the plain words: the climb, the cutting of the blossom, the pot waiting for the evening’s treacle.

By the last verse the waiting pays off. Even after being pestered, he does the work, scores the flower, and makes good treacle. He shares out the thick lumps of it, the “godu,” and the closing line lands the joy of the song, he makes the whole household’s mouth sweet. It is a small, happy picture of village life, where one man’s skill up a palm tree turns a hungry, sun-tired day into something to savour.