Sarath Ananda, a kithul tapper serving freshly-made jaggery from the kithul sap, at Ambegoda village in southern Sri Lanka. (Photo by Ishara S. Kodikara / AFP) /
Ambegoda, Sri Lanka: When Sri Lankan mechanic Sarath Ananda left his job in Kuwait to make traditional palm sweets, he never imagined the career switch would bring global acclaim.
Ananda returned home in 2008 and embraced his family's traditional vocation -- tapping sap from the kithul palm, becoming a fifth?generation practitioner of a craft now recognised by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.
The honour has cast a global spotlight on a fragile cottage industry battling labour shortages, rampant adulteration and dwindling sap supplies.
At dawn and sunset, Ananda, 63, climbs towering Caryota urens trees to collect the sweet, milky sap that is boiled into treacle -- a caramel-coloured syrup with a pleasant aroma that enhances the flavour of desserts.
Sarath Ananda, a kithul tapper collecting sap from kithul palm trees at the Ambegoda village in southern Sri Lanka. (Photo by Ishara S. Kodikara / AFP)
When boiled longer, it reduces into jaggery, a mineral-rich palm sugar with a lower glycaemic index than the commonly available white cane sugar.
But the yield from his five trees -- about 200 litres (50 gallons) a day -- falls far short of demand for his homemade brand.
So Ananda has built a network of 55 tappers who supply their harvest to him daily, enabling exports to Australia, Britain, New Zealand and the Middle East.
"I returned home after working in Kuwait for 10 years. Then I took up the family vocation," he told AFP at his village home in Ambegoda, about 100 kilometres (60 miles) south of the capital Colombo.
But he is worried the art of tapping will fade away, with the new generation unlikely to take it up.
"My son is studying engineering," he said. "I don't think he will want to climb trees."
'Living heritage'
His wife, Padma Nandani Thibbotuwa, 61, handles the boiling and stirring.
"The big problem we face is adulterated products -- some people add sugar," she said. "This is because pure kithul is very expensive."
If the sap is not boiled immediately after collection, it ferments into a potent drink.
Sarath Ananda (front) alongwith his wife Padma Nandani Thibbotuwa at Ambegoda village in southern Sri Lanka. (Photo by Ishara S. Kodikara / AFP)
Most kithul-producing households divide labour the same way -- husbands collect the sap while the wives process it into sweets.
The UNESCO inscription has boosted recognition for the rural industry, which is still regarded as a lowly occupation in caste-conscious Sri Lankan society.
"As a living heritage, kithul tapping is integral to communal harmony, shaping cultural identity and values, and reflecting both unity and a deep spiritual connection with nature," UNESCO said when conferring the honour in December.
The palms grow wild and need no fertiliser. But attempts to commercially cultivate kithul have repeatedly failed.
The state-run Kithul Development Board says it is training 1,300 tappers to preserve the centuries-old craft.
"Kithul is not unique to Sri Lanka -- it is found across South and Southeast Asia," KDB chairwoman M. U. Gayani told AFP.
"But the method of tapping the flowers is practised only by us, which is why UNESCO recognised it."
She said export earnings from kithul products totalled a modest $1 million per year, largely due to supply shortages.
Gayani estimates the island has roughly half a million kithul palms, fewer than half of which are tapped -- a sign of both the industry's struggles and its potential.
