ABDF

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Hello everyone!

Today in Sri Lanka is celebrated the birthday of the Prophet Mohammed, so I send special greetings to my Muslim friends.

The rains have started to slack off a bit; today it was cloudy but didn’t it rain at all.  Could this be the end?  Hard to say, but I can tell you that in the past two days the humidity as swooped up to over 80%, more like the sticky Sri Lanka I know and love.  (I have a battery-driven thermometer/hydrometer (?) to measure temperature and humidity – I’m a touch morbid and love to quantify just how much I’m suffering from the heat and stickiness.) So maybe a change is coming.

Yesterday (Wednesday) afternoon I had my first English class with the staff of Synergy, the group Sushila had been supervising.  It was a blast.

To be honest, and this may surprise many of you, the idea of teaching has always had less than zero appeal to me.  I guess I mean teaching in a classroom setting; my letters from Sri Lanka, while (hopefully) informative, I don’t really think of as teaching.  The goal of my letters isn’t to teach; anyone can learn about the history and culture here, or read the papers for the latest news.  I write because I want you to get just a glimpse of what it’s like to experience this place, and maybe even for an instant share in my excitement/enchantment/obsession/addiction.

Two days ago, I was hanging out with Izzadeen, and we went to a friend’s house so he could say goodbye to the friend’s mother, a Tamil woman who has lived in the UK for decades.  I had never met her before.  During our chat, she mentioned that she was born and raised in Kandy, a centrally located Singhalese city, and hadn’t been to Batti until her daughter came to work here some five years ago.  Since then the mom has been visiting her daughter (Izzadeen’s friend) every year for longer and longer stays.  As she explained to me “I can’t seem to stay away from this place, this nondescript little town on the far side of things.  And it’s not just because of my daughter.  There’s just something about this place.”

I agreed, noting that this place is like some kind of benevolent disease; after a short while it gets into your blood and never entirely goes away.  Those of you who have been here with me will undoubtedly agree.  I mean, there is nothing special here, nothing a tourist would be interested in, it isn’t some great center of Tamil culture, can’t even be called charming, and is best summarized as “dogs, dust, and crows.”  But yet…

Anyway, sorry for the digression.  Back to my class.  Like I said, I’m not excited about the idea of teaching.  Those of you who teach will know that you put huge amounts of work in for a short period of class time, and I figure I could use the same time for a variety of projects.  So I had been putting off saying yes to Sushila whenever she mentioned the idea.  However, having met and gotten to know her staff – the kids, as you will remember me calling them – I had to give in.  At that morning meeting, the one where I ran into Patrick Harrigan, they just flat out asked me, and they were so happily enthusiastic I couldn’t say no.

So yesterday was lesson one.  I won’t go into the details of the lesson plan, but suffice it to say that it involved role playing games, a brief interactive lecture by me on how and why we Westerners say hello and goodbye (VERY different from the way it’s done here) and ended with my teaching them to play “Simon Says,” which is a great game for vocabulary and listening skills.  Through most of the class we were laughing and having a good ol’ time.  It was great.  Then they asked if maybe we could meet twice a week, rather than just once.  Oy vey!  Now I’d have to plan twice as many lessons!  However, it was so much fun, and these kids are really eager and excited to have me around, that there was no way I was going to say no.  We did compromise; we won’t meet again until next Wednesday, and at that time we’ll figure out a second class.  I’m such a sucker.

Actually, I wish you could meet the group; those of you who come here probably will.  Three guys, three gals.  From ages 20 to 30.  All of them are great to be around and not the least bit shy.  Even the girls, which is rather unusual for Sri Lanka.  I suspect this openness on the part of the girls is Sushila’s influence, and one reason why she was so anxious that they continue to be exposed to Westerners like myself. And while they are all pretty cool, I will only briefly describe two, so you can see what kinds of kids they are.

The first is Bathsala (pronounced Bat-shalá).  At 30, she is the oldest.  A petite woman with very lively eyes, she’s also unique among the group because she is a widow with two children.  She currently lives with her mother.  I don’t know the whole story, but I gather that her husband was killed during the war.  I have a feeling that she has been through some pretty heavy stuff.  People who do usually turn out one of two ways.  They are either traumatized and turn inwards and never really recover, or they break through and become fierce warrior-types.  Bathsala is one of the later.  She has no problem looking me straight in the eye and telling me what she is thinking.  Sushila says that of all the women with whom she has worked, Bathsala is the one right on the cusp of realizing her potential as a community leader and social activist.  I say: Right On!

The other is a young man named Nero.  He’s 23, although he seems far more mature.  He has worked for other NGOs and is acting as supervisor for the staff.  I’ve seen him lead a public meeting at one project, and he’s a natural born leader.  He’s tall, slim, and quick to smile.  Very charismatic.  He seems good at leading the staff through example, rather than the usual leadership style found here which consists of ordering people around.  Certainly he has been keeping all the reports and paperwork in order and up-to-date.  I suspect he’ll be a great community leader in the future, and if he can ever get out of Batti and into the wide world, he’d be very successful.

Anyway, just two examples of the Synergy staff, and from these descriptions, you can see why Sushila wants me to be around and nurture them.

So anyway after class yesterday, I hitched a ride with another staff member, Pushpakaran (Push-pack-áran) back home.  And this afternoon when I got back from sending out your previous email, who should drive up to the house but Nero and another staff member, Shantan.  They were on their way home from work and decided to stop by and say hi and hang out a bit.  Gotta say I was touched.  So we sat and chatted for 15 minutes or so and then they went on their way.  Very sweet, and made me feel kinda important.  Aww.

So maybe this classroom teaching thing isn’t so bad after all…

On to some project news.

I received word today that the books we shipped for the St. Cecilia’s English lab project will arrive in Colombo on April 14^th, which happens to be both the Singhalese and Tamil New Year.  Not the best timing, but you work with what you got, yes?  I’m going to arrange with my friend Jeewan in Colombo to have the boxes gotten through Customs and delivered to his house.  After the New Year, when travel becomes normal again, I’ll schlep over to Colombo and figure out how to get the books across the island to Batti.

Tomorrow I have lunch in Kattankudy, with my friend and Peace Village project co-conspirator, Aneesa, of brain curry fame.  She tells me she will have the estimate for the final phase of electrification.

Next week I hope to go see what has been done with the seedling project.  I was supposed to go today, but we need to wait until the flooding dries a bit.  Apparently in one place on the way it’s about waist deep.

I want to tell you about another really cool thing that happened yesterday.  This was around noon, before my class at Synergy.  I went and saw Mary and her family.  Mary is the lady who had the love marriage and after the tsunami was suicidaly depressed with no support and too many kids including Deeno, the boy with Down’s syndrome.  Well, the grapevine in Batti is extensive and effective.  Somehow Mary heard that I was back in town, and two days ago stopped by the house.  I was unfortunately out at the time, but she left me a gift of a huge succulent, juicy, papaya.  Rather than call her up and stumble through a thank-you conversation (no one can understand my accent over the phone here) I decided to just go over to Kallady and say thank you myself.

As I entered the front gate I loudly said “Hello!”  I saw Deeno, and he stopped, looked at me for a beat, and then RAN toward me with a squeal of delight.  Naturally I dropped to my knees and swept him up in a big bear hug.  Nothing like being received with pure joy to make you feel good about yourself.

I only visited with Mary for about half an hour.  She told me that things are largely unchanged since I saw her last in October.  And that’s OK, because the family is doing a lot better than in the tsunami days.  Not perfect, but better.  Every time I see Mary laugh and smile and be animated, I recall the first time I saw her, and how emotionless and expressionless, how DEAD, her face was. It was awful. My fellow volunteers from that time will certainly remember.  And so now when I see her face, I marvel and feel grateful.  Especially for Jordan, who did so much for the family.  Mary is a good, decent person, and I do wish her and her family well.

So Mary’s eldest daughter, Kavilah, is married and pregnant, which I had already known.  However, the girl’s due in two or three weeks.  I didn’t see her, but was told that she looks like she’s ready to let ‘er rip at any moment.  This Sunday the family is going to have a little party at Kavilah’s house, half in celebration of the upcoming birth, and half to celebrate my return.  Apparently they were waiting, hoping I’d get here before the birth.

By the way, Jordan – They’re waiting for you impatiently.  Oh, and Mary says Happy Birthday.  So do I.

Monday, March 24, 2008 (3 days later)

Happy Easter everyone.  Yes, it was yesterday, I know.  But Happy Easter nonetheless.

So Mary’s daughter, Kavilah couldn’t wait until after the party.  On Friday night she gave birth to a healthy 2.4 kilo (about 5 1/2 pounds) baby boy.  As per custom, he doesn’t have a name yet.

Nalaratane, the guy who drove me out from Colombo is a friend of mine, as well as of Mary’s family, so he went with me, driving in his tuk-tuk.

Yesterday the family held their party anyway, and there I met Leetha (Lee-tah), Kavilah’s husband.  He is a reasonably well-off merchant who owns a liquor store right near Eastern University, which is excellent marketing, as Sri Lankan student are just like those anywhere else and love to party.  He himself is a rather good-looking fellow (so he and Kavilah are a good match in that sense, as she is very pretty) and appears to be a good provider.

The baby was adorable, as are all newborns.  Kavilah herself looked tired and a little shell-shocked at all this change in her life, but then I imagine many recently wed first time mothers do.  I had brought a couple of presents and a card, which I think was unexpected, but happily received.

Typical of Tamil parties, after cooing over the baby for a while, and greeting all the extended family members on both sides, and having a refreshing drink, most of the men, about 8 of us, went next door to Leetah’s uncle’s house.  There the real partying began.  As Leetah owns a liquor shop, there was arrack aplenty.  Let me explain arrack.

Arrack in Sri Lanka is entirely different from that found in Middle Eastern and Armenian groceries in the US.  It is distilled from the sap of the palmyrah palm tree.  The sap is harvested in the morning, and when it has contact with the air, it begins to turn potent.  The palmyrah plantations are located outside Batti District, so I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m told that the sap when mixed with water is sweet, and called Sweet Toddy.  By afternoon, the mixture turns bitter and is called Sour Toddy.  The distillation of this mixture becomes arrack.  It can come in a variety of shades, but I’ve most often seen it a light-to medium golden brown; think whiskey.  The taste is unique, but I’d say that it’s somewhat similar to bourbon or whiskey.  I suppose you can drink it straight or on the rocks, but that is rarely done, especially because ice is almost non-existent out here.  Usually it’s mixed with some sort of soda; mostly I’ve had it with either Coke or Sprite.  The advantage of arrack is that although you get drunk rather quickly, the buzz doesn’t last for more than an hour or two unless nursed along.  And once you recover, your head is remarkably clear.  I only indulge on occasion, but when I have, I have felt surprisingly well afterwards.

Anyway, Leetah’s house is in a tiny village north of Batti, so the celebration was very country, if you will.  All the men except Nalaratane and I were in sarongs. We all sat cross-legged on the floor around a reed mat which had the glasses and one bowl of sliced apples and another of grapes.  Arrack and cigarettes were passed around, and since some of the men spoke some English, conversation grew lively and a bit raucous.  Nalaratane’s English is pretty decent.  So communication wasn’t a problem.

I will tell you something, a good thing.  I frequently find myself in assorted social situations where maybe one person speaks some English but no one else does.  Sometimes no one speaks at all except one or two words.  I think Jordan can confirm this as his own experience, but I have never once felt awkward or uncomfortable in these situations.  I wonder if my fellow lady volunteers have also experienced this as well at women’s gatherings.  Anyway, I don’t know if it’s my personality or Tamil hospitality or both, but in these situations I always feel perfectly at home. I never get bored. My experience is that initially Tamils can be somewhat reserved if not a little cold.  But make the effort to get to know people a bit better and they open wide up.

At any rate, some four hours and four bottles of arrack later we were all feeling quite merry.  I probably drank less than the other guys as I hadn’t had any breakfast, knowing there was going to be a typically enormous lunch.  I never eat breakfast if I know I’m going to a Sri Lankan house for lunch.  Also, I didn’t feel it respectful to return to the other house to eat all liquored up.  So there I am, empty stomach, drinking arrack and trying to look like I’ve drunk more than I actually had.  I managed pretty well, I think.

We finally had lunch about 5 in the evening.  It was typical: huge amounts of rice, a couple different curries, and some vegetables.  Despite the alcohol, I’m glad I hadn’t eaten previously.  I packed the food away, which pleased my hostesses to no end.  After lunch I took a quick stroll around the village with Leetah’s uncle, who was especially friendly, and then Nalaratane and I drove back to town in his tuk-tuk.  I slept very well last night.

I had a really good time at the party.  The guys were all very nice and friendly and it was an afternoon I’ll remember fondly.

And finally, I’m pleased to report that we haven’t had rain for the past two days.  In fact, it’s been sunny and clear.  Thank goodness! Finally worked my way through all that backlogged laundry!

xoxoxoxoxoxo

B.