A WALK AROUND COLOMBO, SRI LANKA
It was my second time in Sri Lanka; I was awaiting the arrival of my group from Australia and had left a bag in the capital city, Colombo. Whilst I had been away there had been much news about the recent Commonwealth Summit, war crimes and continuing human rights violations throughout the country. I had read a lot online and had even watched a documentary detailing the atrocities that went on in the Sri Lankan civil war. I’d have liked to have said that it hadn’t changed my outlook on this small country, but I couldn’t help but think of one of the claims on the program, that many of the soldiers accountable for these crimes, now owners of large hotels and tourist attractions, were now relishing in a tourism boom; a tourism boom that I would be supporting.
On my first day back, I travelled into the city to pick up the bag I’d left some weeks beforehand. My journey began with a tuk-tuk ride into the town centre of Negombo. A tuk-tuk ride is an absolute must for any visitor to most parts of the Indian Subcontinent. This, despite your now heightened vulnerability, the driver’s inevitable panache for squeezing through impossibly small gaps in the traffic, and the bronchitis-inducing smog that the incessant traffic throws up.
The best £1 I could ever spend.
I then got a bus from Negombo to Colombo and wandered through a lively market in the old part of the city. It was an assault of sounds, smells and sights, the hub for anyone to buy the latest tat.
I took another tuk-tuk south to the Cinnamon Gardens, an upmarket part of the city with a large park at its centre. I passed a young boy, dressed in full cricket gear from head-to-toe walking down a side-street with his father. His face was a delight as he unveiled a brand-new cricket bat, a gift from his proud father. Couples sat around a lake taking their latest Facebook profile photos, no doubt declaring later that evening, “In a relationship”. As I walked through a busy market, a smiling man dressed in a wrap and chequered shirt approached me eating a mango. He shook (and didn’t let go of) my hand, it was wet with who-knows-what. He asked where I was from so I replied “England”. He then excitedly declared to his friends, “He’s from London” then let me free. I saw a decrepit set of grey buildings (some of which were still being built despite their ancient appearance) on the side of a lake which served as a school for orphans of the Tsunami. An open-air class was taking place, with a group of eager, smart and capable-looking teenagers. Much like an English classroom, but different. The difficulties and scarred pasts of their young lives invisible from their appearance and vitality.
I was doing something I have always loved: people-watching. I remembered back to the days when I would spend whole days sat in cafes drinking coffee, eating sandwiches and just watching the world go by. It is a pastime that’s somewhat forgotten in these days of smartphones, tablets, phablets and idongles. Taking everything in and noticing how other people live is a pastime everyone should definitely undertake once in a while.
In the final few hundreds of my stroll I heard some rapid footsteps approaching from behind. An elderly man scuttled up to me, trying to play it cool and hide his haste. He wore a pair of thick grey suit trousers and an open-collared, starched white shirt. His shiny dome of a head was ringed from ear-to-ear by a silver strip of hair.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“I’m from England” I replied.
“Ah, England…what a beautiful country. And what is your profession?”
I declared I was a teacher. Although this is not strictly true anymore, trying to explain any of other of my random jobs has always proved to be a predicament in many countries.
“Ah, Gold Bless You, I am a teacher too. A teacher of Buddhism”, he said as he shook my hand.
He definitely looked like a Sri Lankan teacher, the wise old wrinkles in his face told of a life empowering and educating young people, of teaching discipline and respect. I’d naively looked over the ‘Buddhism’ part.
He stretched out his finger and pointed ahead, “I actually teach tourists about Buddhism at that temple – you want a tour?”
I had been wooed by this man, he had charmed me into near submission without even knowing. Good luck to him, he did a wonderful job and had some great lines. Unfortunately I didn’t have the time for his tour, but vowed to go back someday for his lesson.
I do hope this country is fixed. Amidst everything that has been taken away through years of conflict and war, there is so much for it to give. It’s difficult to forget Sri Lanka’s past but at the same time, it’s difficult to imagine the country as anything but a land of smiles, natural beauty and unrelenting warmth.
© 2024