Update on the quest for a bike: Despite four months of asking around and plans to travel far away to find one, we finally persuade our tuk-tuk driver to ask again and this time we made the discovery of a bike shop in Wattala (which seems to be one of its best kept secrets for some unknown reason). And so we now have a second bike which we picked up for rps 3000 (£15) and were told later that this was a rip-off for what it is. Ok, so it’s old and rusty, the seat is not the most comfortable, it’s too big for either of us and the back brake fell of the second time we took it out, but it has a bell…which kind of works! And for now, Miriam gets to ride it – lucky her – while I get used to the roads ;p
In England the saying goes to drive as if every other driver on the road is an idiot. Here, as you launch yourself into the road and into the face of oncoming traffic, you just have to trust that they have brakes and they know how to use them and that despite driving in an somewhat idiotic/erratic fashion, there really is a sane, fully alert person behind the wheel.
Test rides have been a success – I have managed to navigate all cars, tuk-tuks and potholes and have not made people honk their horns anymore than usual (people beep all the time here anyway, just generally to make their presence on the road known.). So now there are two crazy English girls riding around on bicycles – much to the amusement and curiosity of everybody!
Having said what a success our first rides have been – which is a big deal if you see the roads here! - this week is also Vesak so the roads have been virtually deserted in the daytime. Vesak falls at the same time as Poia (full moon celebrations) when most of the shops are closed and people are on holiday anyway. So for the first time since my arrival I witness perfect driving conditions on the streets of Wattala!
Not only does Vesak mean perfect driving conditions but also perfect lie-in conditions! No motorbikes or tuk-tuks roaring down the lane at 6 in the morning, no one riding down the road selling fish at sunrise, no thundering clatter of the shutters from the shop below, just some amplified ghostly chanting from the Catholic church at some unearthly hour of the morning BEFORE sunrise!!! But that’s it! I thought I had blocked all of these noises out of my sub-conscious, but considering how well I slept during Vesak it seems that is not the case!
The reason I am here: Miriam came out to Sri Lanka in October ’08 with a vision to start a children’s home and to work with children and women orphaned and widowed by the war (which officially ended a year ago, six months after Miri arrived). She got on the plane with a handful of addresses of people she didn’t know, given to her the day before by a friend who she just happened to visit on her last day in the UK, not knowing where she was going to stay or how she was supposed to begin. The first step was the plane ride from UK to Colombo.
All of the addresses she had been given proved to be out-of-date because of the war and tsunami. Despite this, one of Miri’s letters made its way to the person it was addressed to after the postman recognised the name. That person then contacted someone else who then contacted Miri and brought her up to Colombo from Galle. The tamil couple who made the 8-hour journey (8-hours due to the state of the old road) once to visit her and then to fetch her had not been South for 25 years because of the tamil/sinhala conflict. Despite this they still wanted to help.
After six months living in Colombo volunteering and teaching English, she then felt like she should start visiting the East of the country (the tamil North and East being the regions most-affected by the war) where she taught English, moving around different villages in the Batti region. All the while she was met with confusion from Sri Lankans themselves as to her reasons for being there (why come to work as a volunteer over here when you could get a job that would earn you money and a nice lifestyle in the UK?.. Many Sri Lankans aspire to be like the West or even go to the UK for a ‘better life’, so why would an English girl want to come here? Especially a young English girl on her own!!). While this attitude was frustrating for Miri at first, Sri Lankan hospitality has made up for it. One family offered to make lunch for her everyday (a promise they still keep more than a year later! We either go to theirs for lunch or they send lunch in a lunch packet if we can’t go.). It’s very rare for a young girl to be living on her own and they find it unimaginable that she shouldn’t have a mother or some other family member to cook for her and look after her! Not only that, but hospitality is part of the culture. If you’ve not eaten when you go to someone’s house, they will feed you. Those who can afford it always make sure their family and friends are well fed and those who are not so well off share what they have.
So, to set the scene: Miriam gets a vision to start a children’s home in Sri Lanka, she leaves for Sri Lanka in October ‘08 – she is on her own, with no organisation to back her up, no plan and no secure funding, other than what people feel led to give her. To add to her frustrations in the face of people’s incomprehension, the government has brought out new regulations which could present some interesting obstacles, e.g. A person starting a children’s home must have a degree-level qualification and must be married. To add to these new regulations the government has been pushing to close down all non-government run non-Buddhist children’s homes.
In the meantime, Miri is introduced to the village we now travel to every week and seeing that it is one of the neediest decides to start teaching English at the school there. No big plans as to how she will reach her goal, just taking one step at a time...
There have been many frustrations and answers to prayer along the way and sometimes things which seem like answers to prayer are instead distractions to draw her away from her focus, which is just to love people. So she needs wisdom to suss it all out and strength to let God guide her, to have faith and to hope in what is unseen, as of yet.
Last week we were stranded in Wattala by the rain and we needed wisdom and cake! We visited friends and made the most of our free time (we also found a bistro in the posh bit of Colombo that serves real coffee and real cake – very exciting!!).
Monday morning we left the house as usual for the train to Batti. Stepping out of the gate, the water pours down our backs and inside the tuk-tuk the rain drums on the roof relentlessly. After turning left around the corner and towards the main road we were already doubtful as to whether we’d make it to Colombo. The sewers at the side of the street have overflowed, joining the stream in the road. Water pours over the pitted concrete like a waterfall. Next, a dip in the road, the water creeping up the bonnet of an oncoming car. We turn back, deciding that we in our little tuk-tuk are no match for this weather. So, back home for now (thinking how nice it is to have such a flexible job!). Out to work one minute and back the next! A phone-call to the East confirms that parts of the track are covered with 4ft of water, so no chance of a train this week then. We go back to our humble abode, where the rain is also raining inside through the roof here and there and wonder what to do next!.
Later we visit a friend in the next road, wading through the muddy water that leads to her gate. Miriam reminds me that the snakes might have come out with the rain. I look down at the muddiness and hope that the snakes disappear at the vibrations of our plodding great feet, instead of waiting around. It seems that it is raining in everyone’s house. There seems to be a gap in the market for ‘handy-men’ in Sri Lanka. People generally leave holes and other damages to fall into disrepair and instead move house when it’s no longer liveable (those who can afford it). This also accounts for the why people don’t go in for ‘interior design’ or making a home look pretty (apart from the very rich/more westernised). The floors and walls are normally bare. A house is just a building to live in.
So, Sri Lanka has just had the rainiest week in 30 years. Temperatures have also been low - down to 20 degrees (Miriam even went so far as to say ‘It’s freeeezing!!’ several times and I even wore socks one night!!). There has been flooding in many parts of the country, most of those affected being the poorer people who live right next to the rivers and the sea. The muddy water at people’s doorways has been pushed inside. In the Colombo area it seems that the rain is easing off and the water level is going down again. We asked our tuk-tuk driver if ‘Crocodile River’, near where we live, had overflowed, to which he replied ‘Yes, the crocodiles are coming out and eating all the coconuts!’. We felt this was a somewhat light-hearted view of the situation..!
I’ve tried to put photos up again and failed. The internet connection just can’t seem to cope with more than one photo at a time. We even made a trip to McDonald’s to see if they had wi-fi – they didn’t but we still had a Big Mac, so as I said in another post: anything for a bit of air conditioning and some chips (or fries which are totally different as Miriam is pointing out)!! Another failed quest we have been on lately is to find a bike. Miriam got one a few months ago but it seems that she has the last second-hand lady’s bike in the area. There are plenty of bike shops full of men’s bikes and people who are stumped at the question of where one might find a bike for a lady. Apparently, it’s common for ladies from the tamil areas of Batticoloa and Jaffna to cycle but practically unseen in the southern Sinhalese areas. So, the quest goes on...!
This was our 2nd trip to the East. This time the train left on time and got to Batti early! And this time we saw 3 elephants! Once you see an elephant standing in the undergrowth it is hard to go to sleep or to close your eyes even for a second, for fear of missing out on the next sighting!
When we arrive in Batti we find out that our usual tuk-tuk driver is out of town so our friend sets about the difficult task of finding someone else who is willing to take us out to the village. Most of the drivers refuse but finally by morning we have a ride from a young tuk-tuk driver, probably wondering what he has let him-self in for!
On arrival at the village: plain tea and a lift to school. Today, animals: Hop like a rabbit, wave your trunk like an elephant and ‘meh’ like a cow..?! After class we play with the children while the older ones from the class next door all come to watch through the fence. It seems that they spend the whole morning waiting for their teacher to arrive, if he does, and by the time we are leaving he is having a nap at his table in front of the blackboard. We walk past the rest of the children who run outside to wave us off. It seems that either their teachers didn’t come to school today or they have better things to do than teach the children.
Next, lunch and nap, then the after-school club. We give pencils out to those who don’t have anything to write with and one of the older girls takes over the role of pencil keeper to ensure that no pencil swindling is going on. Some of the kids hide their existing pencils because they want a new red one, but unfortunately we are on strict pencil rations. After class: rounders. At one point the ball lands on the roof of the school and before we know it two of the teenagers are up the tree and racing across the sloping tile roof to get the ball. I laugh at how many ‘health and safety’ rules we’d be breaking if we let this happen in a youth club in Britain. These kids are fearless. It seems like they can do anything practical. For our evening meal we are ferried across the plain on a bike, ridden by a girl who makes the trip three times to get each of us across. The sun taking its leave across the far-away peaks, the clouds gathering in grey-blue over a peachy warm sunset, the light around us story-book perfect.
The first house we visit is the Grandma of a little girl from nursery, the cheekiest, most out-going of them all, the best at English. We are honoured to be at her house. I know you’re not supposed to have favourites, but she is just one of those children who you have to love ;) Her mother then takes us to her house for dinner. Their house is a mud hut with palm roof and goat house next to it, in a large clearing under the trees. We sit there as the sun sets and the children play, picking up sticks from the fire and chasing each other. These kids are ruthless! They shake the unripe mangoes from the tree we are sitting under and proceed to chop them open with a huge carving knife, which they seem used to handling. I sit there thinking about how resourceful and fearless these kids are – hardy, to say the least! When we have eaten it is dark outside and everyone is worried about us riding back along the plain on our own, so we are given two torches and an uncle to accompany us.
Riding across the plain in the pitch black is surreal. I focus on the torchlight bumping up and down in front of me, to try and stay on my bike and on the road. I can’t see to the right or to the left of me but I can see the stars above and the lightning that pulses across the sky in the distance. With no street lights around for 20 km the stars seem to jump out at us.
When we get home we sit outside by candlelight, under the stars. My admiration of the stars and my exclamations of ‘it’s so beautiful!’ amuse my hosts for who the night sky is just an extension of their living room ceiling, part of their routine. Sun down at 6.30, the children do their homework by candlelight inside, the adults sit outside. Sleep at 9 and up with the sun at 5. During the night we either sleep to the songs on the tamil hindu radio (battery-charged) or the silence in which crickets chirp on the floor next to us and the whir of wings as an unknown flying insect comes closer and crash-lands on our heads. In the next room the family can see our torch light flashing on and off throughout the night as we try to catch whatever insect we feel running across our legs or lurking in the darkness next to us.! The night air is filled with the noise of dogs howling and growling until dawn, when we wake to the sound of sweeping outside and the children getting ready for school.
Outside the air is still cool until 7, when the sun catches the tin roof we sit under, watching the world go by. Men pile onto tractors and bikes to the fields where they will work for the day. Children cycle to school in their bright white uniforms, usually two to a bike. By 6.30 we already have a visitor. People literally pop in anytime. They bring news/gossip, they come with a question, a request to borrow something, to eat, to drink. For the most part everyone’s house is open to everyone in the little village.
The children go to school until 1 o’ clock, when they come back for lunch and to nap, play, do their homework and to help where they are told to. The 13 year-old in our house goes out to fetch water from the well whenever the pots are emptied. When Miri and I offer our help, they give us the plastic pot to carry between us while the little girl follows behind with the metal pot balanced on her hips and a bucket full in her hand. The metal water pot weighs twice as much as the plastic one and each carries about 15 litres of water. These children will never cease to amaze me!
On our arrival back in Colombo, after another 12 hour train journey the heavens open. Our bus wades through the waters, which have now turned the streets into a seascape. 200 miles away in our little village (yes, only200 miles away despite the 12 hour train journey!) while lightning lingers on the horizon there is no sign of rain. Here, waves roll up onto the pavements of Colombo and lap at the shop-keepers feet. Watching the water threatening to flow over the doorstop into their shops, they simply roll up their trousers and smile at the clouds :)
The next day, after spending the night at pastor’s guesthouse, we leave in our little tuk-tuk for our little village in the middle of nowhere. We cross the lagoons outside Batticaloa, past the guard posts and into this land where it seems that no-one wants to go apart from the army, aid workers and those who have always been there and always will be. The road is only for the most daring of tuk-tuk drivers and it seems that the only other vehicles that venture this way are 4x4s, tractors and lorries. A journey in a normal car along this road would be a LONG one and the driver would have to be very determined or a little crazy. The road is red dirt, loose sand and concrete in patches – extremely pot-holed and worn away at the edges.
The land around us is dry scrubland. Scorched, overgrown paddy fields wait for the next rain to fall. No workers, no egrets. The rain falls for 3 months of the year and then it’s up to the breadwinner of the family to leave for Colombo or find odd jobs here and there. The climate has changed even since Batticoloa. Not far west from here people are still tending their paddy fields. A shack serves as a house and a shop at the side of the road, scattered within miles of each other, and every now and then we pass a hamlet-sized village or army barracks. At one point we reach a bridge with a flow of muddy water passing beneath it and realise that there has been some rain here. After the bridge the same landscape is revived in a lush green and there are people working in the paddy fields again.
When we arrive at our village it is the greenest Miriam has seen it. We drive up the road – passing 2 or 3 houses on either side and reach the centre of the village – the village shop. Over the hill, past the shop, the road disappears into the green distance. The first house we come to after the shop is our house, where our kind hostess and her two daughters will put us up whenever we visit. This lady and her house were chosen at the beginning because it is one of the two houses in the village with a toilet (you average hole in the floor toilet of course!). The house and the loo were built for her by Christian Aid, so while she is lucky enough to have been chosen by them, she is also lucky enough to have been chosen to house us, the foreign visitors, a task she seems glad to have received!
This house is made of red brick with red roof tiles and a sloping corrugated tin extension that she has added on herself. Other houses are made from cob, palm branches or cement while some are built in the same style as hers. Each house stands in its own clearing which seperates it from the scrubland outside – paradise for cobras and pythons. The gate comprises of three sticks across a gap in the fence to keep the cows out. The front garden is full of recently planted manioc. At the back a pathway leads through the scrub to the village well where people shower and fetch water over-looking the rice paddies and looking out to the hazy hills beyond. Also looking out at this view are the bright blue kingfishers that we’ve seen along the way and eagles that soar out from the trees next to us. The setting seems so idyllic in the greenness after the rain, at dusk, away from the heat of the day, but the reminder of the war that has been is never far away as the soldiers across the road keep a watchful eye on everything that is going on in the village and everything that drives by. They keep watch from a derelict building just diagonally opposite from us.
It seems that we are a source of entertainment for the soldiers, the passers-by and the villagers. A Sri-Lankan girl in a shalva, a western-looking Sri-Lankan girl in jeans and t-shirt and me, the whitest person around. As people stare we smile back; glad to be a novelty and to provide some kind of distraction in this village which is not used to visits from the outside world.
And so begins our routine of visiting and teaching. The morning we teach at the nursery where we try to get them to say ‘elephant’ instead if ‘elepant’ and ‘fish’ instead of ‘piss’. As teacher Miriam holds up the flash cards the ladies gather outside with their faces pressed up against the grid to watch the class proceed.
We eat most of our meals at the house where we stay but the whole village shares the cooking, turning up with parcels of curry and rice just before meal time. Everyone wants to help look after us whether they have the means to or not. Most people have little but the little they do have, they share. Most of the families are headed by women, with their husbands lost to the war or snake bite or gone away to find work.
After lunch and the obligatory after-lunch nap, we go to school to do after-school club – an hour of English teaching and then an hour of play. The first day we go expecting to find the usual 30 children that Miriam and her friend teach. As we walk through the school yard hands wave and voices call out and when we arrive there are at least double that amount of children – about 70 children between the ages of 3 and 19 – greeting us with ‘Good Afternoon teacher’. They all enthusiastically sing and do the actions to ‘head, shoulders, knees and toes’ and everyone tries their best to complete the writing exercise with the books and pencils that teacher Miriam brought from Colombo. The classroom is noisy but everyone is eager and happy to be learning and even happier when we announce playtime. We go out for a relay race and then a game of rounders. The older boys gather in the road outside the fence to watch and the next day there are even more children – about 85 – and all the mothers come to watch as well, happy that we are there for their children. The school is stamped with Unicef and Oxfam labels and there are signs that the UN has also been here, so it is clear that the village has had some input but since the war it is also evident that most, if not all, of these agencies have now left the area.
After our teaching, playing, visiting and talking (using very few Tamil words and mostly smiling while our friend does the speaking!) for the week, I go back home blessed by these people and their hospitality and looking forward to the next one (which begins tomorrow). Despite the bad reports from Colombo, the food didn’t seem that much hotter than what we’d already eaten and because of the rain the weather was not quite as overwhelming as expected (outside temperatures of 35 degrees plus seem manageable with the genius invention of the umbrella and the cover of the school roof). We make the overnight journey back to Colombo (which takes 12 hours this time), happy at the prospect of spending the weekend with light and electricity, in front of a fan, with running water and a bed instead of a quilt on the floor, but realising that living without these commodities is not that big a deal if you don’t have great expectations of comfort. Having said that, we will each be taking a sheet sleeping bag next time in an attempt to provide some kind of protection from the spiders, crickets and Mr.Rat who we share the floor with! Wildlife outside and in the loo = fine. Wildlife inside = something we are going to have to get used to!!
Our train journey to Batticoloa was luxury compared to the last one! Reserved seats, next to an open window, next to a working fan and snack vendors going by the whole time selling mangoes, rotti and ‘coppee’. So we sit down, make ourselves comfortable and wait for the 10 hour journey ahead. At the station people hop on and off trains and down onto the tracks to get from one train and one platform to the other. As we leave Colombo station with its old rusty carriages we go by the suburbs and slums outside the city centre. Tin roofs and colourful washing lines camp just a few feet away from the track, some of them almost beneath it. Many of them are built on the flood plain as the mangrove swamps and muddy waters next to the track surround the houses just about stopping at the front door. Away from the tracks are half-finished building projects and bigger houses with patios and garden fences. Children play in back yards, chickens and dogs and cats scrounge in the dirt next to them. Every now and then one of the shacks has a tuk-tuk covered with a dustsheet of newspaper tucked under a small extension. For those people lucky enough to have one this will represent their livelihoods. In places clothes are laid out on the grass verge next to the tracks to dry. The odd Washing line stands in between the train lines and sometimes clothes hangfrom a line at the end of a platform. Every now and then men carrying tools and ladies with umbrellas walk along the tracks next to us.
Once we leave Colombo the countryside rolls into grassland and lagoons blanketed with water-lilies. Next, rice paddies where egrets, pelicans and herons dot the water with white reflections and watch the men, women and children hoeing, ploughing and sowing under the hot sun. Some of the workers have wide-brimmed hats to protect themselves from the heat but others work bare-headed and bare-backed. The mud pathways in between the paddies and the lines of the plough turn the watery blue surfaces into a patchwork reflection of the sky. Bright green shoots spring up out of some, disturbing the reflection of the clouds hovering over the soggy earth. Dreamy hills rise up into a hazy blue backdrop to the scenery going by. In between the rice paddies the houses and villages become sparser and soon we leave the plains behind and the countryside turns into jungle. Thick greenery interrupted by muddy brown lagoons. Every now and then we pass houses and small villages hidden in the jungle, where children wave and jump up and down as we pass by. Next to the villages people wash in rivers and lakes.
Every now and again yellow signs go by that warn us to ‘Beware of the Elephants’. Miriam warns me that sightings of wild elephants from the train in the middle of the day are rare - they prefer to come out at dusk or in the evening – so I try togive up my excitement at the possibility of spotting one now. But a while later, just off the track, on the road leading away from it are two wild elephants, just strolling along! There are murmurs of excitement from the people around us and the feeling that this journey is now complete :)
Along with monkeys, peacocks and birds of every colour the journey to Batti seems lush and exotic. As the day turns to dusk we come into the paddy plains again – their workers being called home by the setting sun and the egrets flying away to roost. In one field the trees appear white with blossom (image accredited to Miri ;) as the birds flock in for the night. And with the night arrive the soldiers who join us for the rest of the journey, standing guard at the doorways with their rifles. We are now entering the Eastern region of Sri Lanka, one of the parts of the country where the war was at its worst.
This morning our tuk-tuk driver Jaegen took us into Colombo to catch the train East. The trip to Colombo follows the river most of the way - we pass stalls setting up on the side of the road with their produce straight from the estuary - crabs waving their legs in the air, small silver and black striped fish, HUGE prawns - alongside these stalls and all the way to Colombo are fruit stalls selling mangoes, watermelons, bananas, king coconuts and lots of jack fruit. The road is busy - as always - again our driver makes space for himself where there seems to be no space to fit in at all. And as we rush along the dusty road - up and down hills, round bends, dodging traffic, it's seems to me like a game of mario kart - there are no rules - just go!
When we arrive in Colombo we are in its textile centre - shop fronts bursting with colourful materials ready to be tailored into saris and shalvas. shop fronts of colour, flower garlands, fairy lights - everyone out in the middle of the street. Our tuk-tuk squeezes through the crowds of people and onwards to the station.
When we get to the station we are told that our train has been cancelled due to an accident on the line. So all change - we have not yet left, we are still in Wattala and will now be leaving tomorrow morning instead. We have our tickets ready - the 10 hour train journey there will be costing us a whopping 3 pounds 60 each! If you're not fussy, Sri Lankan travel is cheap!
After this change of plan we go back home to dump our bags and then go back into Colombo again to renew my visa at the immigration office, so as not to waste the day. This turns out to be quite easy and it takes at the most an hour, so after a quick lunch of chicken and rice we walk down the road, back the way our tuk-tuk drove us, to find the bus back to Wattala. The pavement often non-existent and usually taken over with people, parked cars, stray dogs, rubbish and pot-holes, we mostly walk along the road into the oncoming traffic - trying to breathe in when we get trapped between a car going by and a car parked on the side, and generally trying not to get your toes run over. Miriam did get tapped by the wing mirror of a van that seemes oblivious to us, but other than that, there were no other injuries! Just like Sri Lankan driving, as a pedestrian you also have to just go for it and hope for the best!
Eventually we find a bus. my first bus ride - very exciting! The bus is fairly empty so we even get a seat, and apart from being hot, despite sitting next to an open window, and just a little bit cramped (Miriam and I barely fit on the seat next to each other!) the bus ride is comfortable and ten times cheaper than the tuk-tuk. Instead of the 400 rps (2 pounds 30) each way that we normally pay the tuk-tuk, the bus journey back from Colombo to Hendala costs 45 rps (26p)each! bargain! This means that today we can also afford to splash out on a 20 rps ice cream on the way home :)
So THIS is my last post for now! As for yesterday's post, I didn't mean it to end with a rant about self-image. It was simply a reflection on how big an issue skin colour still is when really it should not be an issue at all...
I am sitting in the internet cafe on Hendala main road - cars and mopeds buzz and beep outside and I listen to the rhythmic clatter of knife on metal as the take away next door cooks up this evening's kottu. Everything is still very much alive and kicking on an evening, if not more so than in the day time. The temperature has gone down to 27 degrees - which is bearable, although the bbc tells me that humidity is at 76%, which I'm guessing is quite high because I'm still sweating - I know, it's very unlady-like to sweat and admit it - sorry - Miriam says women 'gloss', they do not sweat!!Tomorrow at 9 we head to Colombo station to make my first 10-hour train journey East, something I will be getting used to doing twice a week for three weeks out of each month - Miri has graciously decided to stay in Colombo one week out of every month for reccuperation purposes! So, tomorrow heading into the unknown - I have only been given the worst reports about where we are going, so we shall see! Hotter weather, hotter curries, no running water, no electricity - here we come ;)Back Friday for the weekend, so this is my goodbye internet post (been spoilt in Colombo with internet at 50 rps or 30 p and hour!) and I thought I'd tell you a couple of lessons I have learnt this week:First of all, I am learning that Sri Lankan internet cafes and uploading photos do not go together very well - I have learnt this after waiting for 20 minutes for 5 pictures to upload - so you will have to bare with me ;)Secondly, I have learnt how much water we usually use and how little it is possible to use. When the water didn't come on this morning I groaned a little bit because if you don't shower at least twice a day here you begin to feel uncomfortably sticky...I went to the tap outside, which still seems to have water in it when all else fails - wunderbar! - filled up the bucket and used half a bucket of water for a bucket shower, which left me cool and refreshed. Lesson 2 = I can make definitely make do with less.And finally, people are never entirely happy with who they are and how God made them (I speak for myself, of course, if you consider yourself to be perfect!!)...So, we all know about tanning lotions as used by the sun-deprived in the UK (no offence meant to anybody who uses them ;), but how about Whitening Cream.? Sri Lankans don't like to be caught in the sun (which is rather unfortunate) because they don't like dark skin and all that's associated with it (reminiscent of the victorian train of thought, i.e. 'those with dark skin are peasant field-workers') and so many people here use Whitening Cream, to whiten or make their skin paler. For some reason, this was more of a shock to me than tanning cream - I guess because at home the general consensus is that tanned skin is more healthy looking. When I told a friend about tanning lotion they couldn't believe it - why would a white person want to be dark skinned?? So, lesson 3 - we always want to change ourselves in one way or another but maybe we should just be happy with the way we are (a lot easier to say than do ;)...
I am on a journey of dreams. I am on a journey during which I will fall down, get distracted and make mistakes, but on which those things, when exposed to the light, are used to teach, strengthen and encourage me to walk this path of Faith, Hope and Love.
This blog space is a scrapbook of the hopes, dreams and inspirations that I gather along the way.
