When I was a child not so long ago there is something someone said that I will never forget…that I am very lucky to be born in this country…we don’t have freezing winters nor burning volcanoes. Our lives are based on strongly rooted religion, may it be Buddhism, Hinduism or Islam. We have a proud history with many brave men and many epics for bed time stories for generations. The ocean and the mountains. Beautiful lakes and forests. And above all great people who have a great ability to smile through their tears.
That image that was created when I was maybe five years old never left me. I have always considered myself blessed and no matter where I have been in life and no matter what ends of the earth I’ve traveled to I have always come back to my roots and lived my life in accordance to a culture that has irrevocably bound me to it. The realities of neither the northern conflict nor disasters like the tsunami changed my impression. They strengthened them….since hope was an undying entity. My dreams are built around this nation and they are big dreams…
I remember being in Kilinochchi last year visiting a bullet beaten little hut in the beach and wondering how these people can still live in this house and feel safe when they’ve been shot at in their own home…when I asked the father of the little family he just grinned and said… “Nona dan gey athulata wenedata wadaa eliya enawa’ (Madam, now our house has more sunshine streaming in) Need I say more?
Last night the strength of my faith in my country was tested, shaking it’s foundation. Watching the sky being splattered with a stream of red flares and watching the smoke and the flames flickering in the distant harbour brought reality crashing down. The thrill of watching the World Cup evaporated into a haze of red flashes in the sky. They were fireworks we were so sure…I mean it couldn’t be anything else. Then came the stream of phone calls…Colombo had a power failure. That’s when we noticed the long dark stretch of beach where Colombo used to be. Then friends from CR, CH and allover calling and asking if we were ok. Are you safe? Are you on your way home? Don’t go anywhere stay where you are..stay away from Galle Road.. It’s the harbour, the air port. Kolonnawa, the air force camp, Ratmalana. The papara band was still playing and people were still cheering…too drunk to realize…still dancing with their beer cans and vodka glasses in hand..for us the screen had fazed into a LCD glow…the papara was a mantra that echoed in our heads and then faded to a murmur. The constant phone calls…are you ok? Yes…still in one piece…don’t worry...I’m fine…
Am I? You keep your voice steady so that family and friends calm down. But your body’s shivering. Your hands are cold. A rain of red lights again…shooting into a dark night sky… and then came the stench of gun powder… smoke…No it wasn’t happening…we were dreaming….its a crazy nightmare…nothing’s on the radio or the TV..everyone was playing the match….a six…a four… dozens of red flairs from within Colombo this time…Ratmalana? Are we ok? Are they ok? People who didn’t call…where are you? Why is your phone switched off? Pls pls be home pls be fast asleep…can I pick you up…no go home….we’re at a friend’s…we’ll be home as soon as this is over… when? I don’t know…
I don’t know…who am I? this is my country…where I am safe..i will always be safe…where my future is…a country for which I have dreams of my own…a country for which I have plans, big plans…where the war will be another story to tell our grand children and where Jaffna is a road trip away…my future…my country…A country I am privileged to be a citizen of.. where I teach five year olds that they are lucky to be born in…a country I am proud of…a country where I can still sit on the beach and have kotthu even after seeing a water logged Galle after the Tsunami… unyielding, obstinate, adamant faith…faith that fought with my parents when they wanted to send me away to a different continent…faith that said…no matter where I go I will be back because this is home and the only place I will call home…not a memory I’ll remember in a few year and reminiscent…where I will leave foot prints on which I will walk over and over again…
We never slept…restlessly tossing and turning and answering the occasional call…too tired now to fake the calm in our voices…four in the morning…prayers have meaning then…did it really happen…now, in the morning everything is normal again…people are jogging in the streets…buses are back and Galle Road has a steady stream of traffic…the radio, the TV…still silence…did I dream the whole thing…me and all my friends with me? Those thick white clouds in the sky…its clouds…not smoke right??? The distinct picture of Orugodawatta many years ago flash across my mind…the flickering fire in the night and the stormy morning skies of the aftermath…
Coming home to worried parents…tucking yourself into bed and bidding yourself to sleep at seven in the morning…sleep…that never came…helplessness is the substance of fear…knowing that something evil is inevitable shakes you to the core…But putting on a brave face comes as the eventuality of the inevitable.
Faith will be questioned, judged and occasionally tested with earthquakes of reality…but faith is built on fundamental principals that are unquestionable and solid. This is still my country… for me 102 runs from 51 balls is not impossible it’s 2-runs-per-ball-probable…it’s the adrenaline that keeps me going and holds my head high…its what keeps me grounded when gravity fails…it’s the fact on which my dreams are built...maybe I am more of a dreamer than a realist but if being a part of this country and keeping my roots has even the slightest chance, it is a price I’ll willingly pay…and I will continue to teach starry eyed five year olds who want to grow up to be doctors and lawyers that this is still the most blessed land ever…because I know that will build the faith that will hold strong as it has for me..
The sun will shine through the bullet holes and it will shine brighter…tomorrow…but today…we will lick our wounds and patch the cracks that were rendered to that faith…and tomorrow we will continue to dream…of tomorrow..
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3 comments:
I was brought up the same way like you. I was taught Sri Lanka is the best country in the world too. Fact of the matter is every country thinks they are the best country in the world. In reality, we Sri Lankan have nothing really good to brag about. If it is so, people will not risk their life to go to Europe through Nigambo Lagoon. It is just ignorant about rest of the world make us thinks “we are the best” and that attitude keeps us holding form improvement. We need to stop blaming Europe and America like a pitiful beggar and improve ourselves.
Sam I think you missed the boat there...nowhere in that post did I read that SL is 'better' than any other country. There is a distinction between being proud of being Sri Lankan, of feeling it in your bones and thinking of it as home no matter what happens as opposed to the nationalism that you allude to. I personally have met few Sri Lankans who thinks we are somehow 'better' than everybody else just because they are Sri Lankan. If you want nationalism of the type that you allude to...try America (aren't you already here?)
That kind of nationalism is insidious here.
Reality bites, I feel you....no matter where I go, what I do...I will go home...soon...no matter what
No. No. I didn’t mean you said Lanka is the best :-) I just pointed out that is how I brought up too.
Well.. When I’m outside the country, I miss only one thing. Good Sri Lankan food. I go back home for that.
My Servers are in US :-)
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