ABDF

Friday, May 01, 2009

Hi Everybody!

This isn’t a letter so much as a quick vignette. I’m gonna call it:

Life During Wartime, part 1

I’m in Colombo. Last night I went out with my friends John and Singh. We went to this terrific beach bar/restaurant called Vasala. It had everything a relaxed tropical beach bar should have; tables on the sand, crashing surf in the distance, flickering hurricane lamps, the stars shining above. I even saw a couple iPod-sized crabs scuttling along, dodging the waiters who were dashing about. Watching the crescent moon slowly sink into the Indian Ocean is a singular pleasure.

The place is pretty much for the Sri Lankan middle class. I saw small groups of friends and a couple families; one large group was seated together occasionally singing songs and celebrating I-don’t-know-what. There was a general murmur of conversation, backed by the sound of the surf and two musicians, one a guitar player and the other a drummer, slowly making the rounds singing traditional songs. It was a mixed place of both Sinhalese and Tamil, and all was tranquil.

However, right outside the place, about half-way between the bar entrance and the surf, there were two big yellow signs which read in English: “Warning! Do not go beyond this point. High Security Zone.”

On top of that, every so often, the nearby naval base would send out an incredibly powerful spotlight to sweep the water and beach; a couple of times it swept over us, too, harshly illuminating an otherwise mellow and peaceful scene.

Of course the locals took no notice. But there you have it: even in the most idyllic setting you are constantly reminded that this is a place at war. The war affects everything and everyone here, and you can never fully escape from its shadow. And it’s been this way so long that the locals have completely internalized it and don’t even notice anymore.