Mother Tydfil

Republished from The Sunday Times Magazine, 2019

In 1966 Savithri Imbuldeniya came from Sri Lanka to Merthyr Tydfil, Wales, as one of the thousands that made up the ‘Windrush Generation’. Now 74, she is returning for the first time in fifty years with her youngest daughter, Sachini.

On the day we travel a million people march on Parliament Square demanding the Brexit vote be given back to the people. Anti-immigration hostility is the new political centre-ground. It is hard to believe that once upon a time we encouraged people like Savithri to come to Britain to share their skills and labour.

We have Kia’s new Proceed GT-Line for the journey. Sachini drives while I chat to Savithri and try to figure out why she swapped tropical sun for the (decidedly less tropical) Welsh valleys.

‘My father died when I was sixteen,’ she tells me, ‘and as the eldest of eight children I had to find work to provide for them all.’ It was a hard, hand-to-mouth struggle – until she saw an NHS advert looking for trainee nurses.

This was part of Britain’s post-war drive to recruit labour from the Commonwealth to cover employment shortages in state-run services. Without the ‘Windrush generation’ it is likely that the NHS would not have survived, failing before it had time to be established.

After training in Merthyr Tydfil Savithri moved to London and became a midwife. She married Mahinda – ‘a curious mix of science professor and a poet’ – and had three children. Sachini is the youngest; ‘Daddy’s little princess’, she says.

But Mahinda was born with a hole in his heart, and suffered from illnesses throughout his life. After a long stay in hospital he died on April 8th, 1993. It was Sachini’s tenth birthday.

Savithri is very matter-of-fact about it. ‘On his deathbed I promised I would give my all for our children. Our time together was over; I just had to carry on without him.’

She was true to her word. Sachini tells me that ‘I am in awe of her. She raised us alone on one of the roughest estates in West London. We had no money but she saved for piano lessons, for schoolbooks, for tutors. She sacrificed so much of her own life to help us. She’s not just my mum, she’s my hero.’

She was a particularly demanding hero – what we would call a ‘tiger mum’ today. “She was so strict. No dating, no phones, no TV, just homework. She made us work bloody hard.” So formidable was she that Sachini was too scared to confess she had dropped out of a biology degree to pursue her real interest: design.

 Today Sachini is a creative director, working for luxury clients around the world. Sachini’s brother is an orthopaedic consultant in the NHS. Her sister leads housing regeneration projects around the UK.

Savithri fulfilled her promise.  

It’s late when we reach Merthyr General Hospital where Savithri first trained, and the years have not been kind. The hospital stands empty and forlorn. A laurel tree grows through what remains of the roof. It’s been up for sale since December last year, with no takers.

Savithri points out the nurses quarters, the bus stop she would take into town, giggles about gogo skirts and heels. This was the 60s, and she makes Merthyr sound like the place to be. For Sachini, it’s a revelation to see her mum as a young woman, in a new country, taking charge of her life. “It’s ironic how tough she was on us, and then to find out she was a party animal in her youth,’ she laughs. 

Then the light fades and the mood turns sombre. So much has changed. We leave, and Savithri doesn’t look back.

In the morning we drive into the Brecon Beacons. The fields are dotted with sheep; it’s lambing season, and ewes stand up as we pass, holding their ground. Mothers protecting their young.

We walk in the Spring sunshine, and I ask Savithri if she has any regrets. ‘No. None. I would still come to Britain; still provide for my family at home. I would still marry Mahinda – we didn’t have a long time together, but he was the man I felt destined to marry.’

As a midwife she brought countless new lives into this world. In 40 years with the NHS she has cared for the sick, the suffering, the dying. This tiny, fierce woman has an enormous heart.

It has been a year since Sajid Javid took over as Home Secretary in the wake of the Windrush scandal. He promised to do right by this generation of immigrants that had done so much for Britain. Savithri’s story reminds us why this promise is worth keeping.

Photography: Levon Biss for Bridge Studio