Sri Lankan Cricket - Identity in the Innings

Do you know how I spent the last World Cup Finals? Let me remind you it was Sri Lanka versus Australia, in Barbados. I was in Colombo. I had to stay home due to security fears. As things started to go Australia's way, the LTTE air raided over Colombo, prompting a city-wide blackout. Fortunately I had power still left on my laptop and internet connection. But obviously it's not the same; having to track a game by the score rather than being able to watch it.

This World Cup for Sri Lankan fans has been drastically different, not only due to the relative peace, but because many of the matches have been played in front of the homecrowd. And what an electric atmosphere it has been here! I was lucky enough to get tickets to the quarter-finals and semi-finals; through painstaking efforts however. The 35,000 tickets for each game were sold out within hours, and well before Sri Lanka had even qualified. So once they had made it to the knock-out stages, fans were on a desperate scramble. I for one, had to call every Tom, Dick, and De Silva in Colombo. In the end I propositioned a TukTuk driver ten times the original price. But that just meant for me that a $3 ticket went up to $30.

Watching the game right infront of your eyes is an experience. At the beginning of the match I was a little disoriented with the lack of commentary, being so used to watching matches on TV. Soon I realised the experience was about being in the crowd just as much as it was to watch the players in your vicinity. Premadasa Stadium was awash with rivers of blue and yellow, and I was soon reminded that Sri Lankans love any excuse to party. Every time there was a boundary or the end of an over, the crowd erupted into dance. And when that Baila music came on - the soundtrack to the Island - not a soul stood still. Behind every game of cricket in the sub-continent however, simmers a whole pot of socio-political completixies. It's never just a simple game of cricket.

I've been hearing for years now that Muslims in Sri Lanka support Pakistan over Sri Lanka. At the games however, I encountered many Muslims; even women wearing full hijabs in the baking sun draped in Sri Lankan flags. However, the more pressing issue has always been the Tamil-Sinhala one.


For the Semi-Final after party I went out with two doctors I had met at the game. One of Sinhalese origin and one being Sri Lankan Muslim. Knowing that I'm of Tamil ethnicity and living in Canada, they asked me whether I was supporting Sri Lanka or not. It reminded me of internet propoganda circulated by some in the Tamil Diaspora I saw a few days ago. It had pictures of horrific war incidents, and a slogan that read, "If you see their National Sport, you may not want to support their Cricket. Boycott Sri Lankan Cricket." It had evoked much in me. I was reminded that those even being born in a country, could choose to go so vehementlty against it. I strongly believe that those behind this propaganda have every right to hold their views, if I am entitled to mine. Just because of artificially imposed state dilieanations (imposed by the wonderful colonizers) Sri Lanka is not organically one nation.

I know that wearing my Sri Lankan cricket jersey will offend some Tamils. I know that I wouldn't wear it Canada. But really Sri Lanka has always been home to me - growing up here, and coming back every year at length. Having lived in Colombo, as opposed to the North or the East, I grew up with both Tamil and Sinhalese friends. I was told as a kid by many Tamils here, that a Sinhalese person is anyday my brother or sister over the Indian Tamil. Even today, after having spent many years out of the Island, I am more culturally akin to the Sinhalese people of Sri Lanka than the Indian Tamils I have met. So when the two doctors asked me who I was supporting, I asserted "Sri Lanka, But...."

The national TV cricket analysis is in Sinhalese. They sure enough have a Tamil guy to speak for 20 minutes or so in Tamil every now and then, but I've realised just how problematic this language issue is. There is also ofcourse Russell Arnold, the national cricketer of Tamil origin on the main panel. He speaks in Sinhalese. Muttiah Muralitharan is the crowd favorite at the stadium. He gets the standing ovation and the chants everytime, and Kumar Sangakkarra even declared him, "The Icon of Sri Lanka". However Sangakkarra goes on to address the homecrowd in Sinhalese. For the minority of Tamils in North in East, and for me (who speaks about 10 words of Sinhalese) it serves as a boundary - one that disallows us from sharing in that 'Sri Lankan' spirit. Having lived in England and heard all the "go home"s, I've never felt truly English supporting the football team. Having lived in Canada for just a few years, I've never felt truly Canadian supporting the hockey team. Sri Lanka, I so desperately wished, was my country. But even here I've had to swallow the uncomfortable reality that, even though I can survive without a word of Sinhalese, I can't feel truly complete to this island without knowing it.

I expressed to my doctor friends that I can accept this for now. They laughed and said it wasn't true. That Sri Lanka is no way not just for Sinhala Buddhists. I shrugged my shoulders. Then I said there's just one thing I want immediately for Sri Lankan cricket and for ethnic solidarity. I know for a fact there are world-class potential cricket players in the North and East. The recruiting for the team only takes place in elite schools in the Colombo and Kandy regions. Aravinda de Silva, national cricket hero, and Coco-Cola have already sampled cricket camps in the North. But if they could reach out all over the island. If they could reach out to the poor, rural villages of the South also; then the Sri Lankan cricket team could have even more crop to pick its creme. My family are from Manipay, Jaffna, and when our local Russell Arnold was playing on the national stage we were so excited. If talent from the Sri Lankan villages of those in the diaspora circulating propaganda were to one day play on the Sri Lankan Cricket Team, it could potentially engage their interest and pride - and well - maybe we could break a boundary - off the field.

Jaffna Wrap Up - The Need for Help

I am back in Colombo – somewhat burnt out. Leaving to Batticaloa tonight, so I know that now is the only time I can blog. Being back in Colombo feels like I’m now in a luxury haven compared to Jaffna, but the pangs have set in of me missing the Canadian comfort. Basically I never want to see a cockroach again, and I miss not having to carry a toilet roll everywhere I go.

My 11 days in the North was the best days of my Sri Lankan trip so far. Not in the traditional sense of “enjoyment” – I’d give that to the beach parties in Unawatuna. But in the sense I’ve gained far more than I could have imagined to expect. It has been beyond worthwile. The reason being: In Galle, I was merely a small fish in a big pond. The voluntary work was more of a community service, worthy, but I didn’t feel like I could offer change in any lasting way. In Jaffna, I’ve realized the mission.

My very last day in Jaffna, Brother Lavakumar took me to visit IDP (Internally Displaced Peoples) families. First we were at a small camp in Udavil, where around 30 families resettled from 1991 have been living in semi-permanent shelters. Their shelter is very basic. Only one family has electricity, and everyone uses a communal water supply. That said, it was important for me to begin to realize that it is not better facilities that people need alone. As humans, we’ll always desire more comfort, but regardless we adjust to what we have. What the people were talking to Brother Lavakumar was not about getting electricity, or a personal bathroom - but bank loans. They want to start up their own businesses.

A 1 hour motorbike ride later, we were in the fishing village of Thondamarnara. Here many families resettled from the last wave of fighting are now residing. They are the poorest of the country, and many are low caste. The caste system is still a major issue in Jaffna. Though not explicitly, children from low castes are discriminated by the school system. Apparently, when they give the area they are from on a school application, it is an indicator of their caste. Just a few days earlier, the Brother had asked if I could write an appeal to some Australian friends of his for funding. I had done so, outlining the need for tables and benches, and hiring more teachers for an after-school initiative that had begun. The main thrust of the appeal was empowerment. While it is just as important for those affected by war to receive infrastructure development, the tool of education can provide the ability for future generations to elevate their communities themselves. Now having the chance to visit the after school classes first hand, I realized just how eager the children are to learn, especially English – a vital language needed if they are to succeed in Sri Lanka. Even though barefoot, and studying on the ground, they are eager. It made me think of my Dad, from a very poor family, who didn’t have shoes until he was 16; did all his science labs barefoot, and yet achieved so much because he had been given the opportunity of education. While there is a government school for these children, it is not wholly effective, and the after-school classes are designed to enhance their education. The families could definitely not afford the Rs.300 that private tuition costs, so Brother Lavakumar started this free iniative. He hopes to expand the project by opening a montessori, starting O Level tuition, and increasing the number of children and teachers.

The Brother took me next to visit individual families in Thondamarnara. These families have lost all their livelihoods from the war, many now living with relatives. There lies a major difference between these families and the ones I had met from Uduvil. Remember that the Uduvil families had been living there for more than 10 years. These recent IDPs in Thondamarnara, having no permanent address, do not qualify for bank loans, as well as receiving no compensation or welfare assistance. They all have skills. One man, through bombing, lost his shop and also the full functioning of his left leg. He is only 30. Now he travels 3 hours in total a day to a gas station where he works pumping gas for Rs.7000/monthly. (Around $70, £35). Half of his salary would go on the bus fare. He insistingly believes that if he opened a small shop near where he is staying it would thrive; saying there is demand. He needs a loan of Rs.100,000 ($1000) but cannot get it from the bank. Another man has 7 children, one in a LTTE detention centre. His fishing net only is capable of catching small fish. With Rs.70,000 he could purchase a net that would double his income. He was the sweetest man ever, and wouldn't let me leave without having tea and a bundle of fried fish. None of them ask for money -  it is Brother Lavakumar who fills me in on their needs. These people are not after handouts nor monthly donations. They simply want a loan - a chance to rebuild the lives they once had where they were taking care of themselves and their families.

Talking with my Uncle, part of the Church, he detailed to me a legitimate and accountable way in which funds raised for loans for IDPs can be sent, and auditted. The major bonus: 0% Admistration costs! Major charities can take up to 40% to pay for their professional foreign expertise, but The Sri Lankan Methodist Church working in Jaffna is a grassroots establishment, utilising local knowledge, and trusted by the goverment; thus having full access of the area. Before I make an official appeal to those who may be interested, I have requested the G.S. (like a District Official) of Thondamarnara to verify the stories of the individuals with his records. There is always the possibility of exaggerated stories.

What is important to note, is that at one time - succeeding in studies spelt the opportunity to go abroad. To leave the island, and all its lack of opportunity given the civil war, was a dream for many. This caused a serious brain drain in last 30 years. Since the end of the war, the locals of Jaffna do not have such a desperation to leave - most of them wanting to stay here forever. By empowering them through education, maybe this sounds idealistic, the region has a chance to flourish and avert social unrest. To do this however, opportunity needs to be created. Development needs to happen.

This is Jaffna.

This is exactly why I haven't been wearing any jewelry here. Yesterday in Uduvil, Jaffna, a WOMAN attacked a woman, by severing off her ear with a knife so that she could steal her gold earrings. A few days earlier, a Jaffna-born man from Canada had come back to avenge his ex-wife who had fled with another man and their child. Her punishment: murder. Also in the last few days, a child around 5 years old has been admitted to hospital after her father raped her, as "punishment" to her mother for going off with another man. These stories of course speak of the darker side of Jaffna life. These last 10 days I've been settling in the everyday normalcy of it.

It has gotten to the point now where it doesn't even occur obscure to me that I'm waking up to the cock crow; "showering" from a bucket; opening the window to find a cow trudging along; using the light from my phone to walk around the town at night. Having to hand wash all my clothes has made me miss home even more. Especially having to shower and change clothes 2 to 3 times a day, the washing is cumbersome work. The other night, I went to charge my camera while my laptop was charging. The very millisecond I tapped on the switch, darkness eclipsed. The electricity had gone out. I soon realized I was responsible for all the surrounding houses too. I called my new friend in the neighbouring village. She informed me their electricity had just cut out too. Ooops. Major oops. Power cuts here are quite frequent. Another point that's making me miss my cushy life in Canada is the creepy crawlies. The other night, I swear something resembling a flying cockroach was zipping around my room. Around midnight, gripped with terror and unable to sleep, I went and got my Uncle who was happily snoring away. He laughed at it, poked it with a broomstick so the creature could fly somewhere else in my room, and went back to bed. I realized I was all alone in the world. Only I could save myself. My rite of passage came as I smacked the sh!t out of it with my Bata slipper.

This is the first time I've come to Jaffna not as a tourist, but to immerse myself in daily life. I've been staying with my Aunt, Uncle, Cousin who is deaf, and his wife who his deaf. This past week I've been volunteering at 'Deaf Link'. This is a project that is part of the Methodist Church Mission, but is blind to religion in its work. Recognizing the severe lack of social services in Jaffna for those who are differently-abled, the project caters for very poor children who have learning difficulties due to deafness, autism etc.

I've been taking the bus everyday to work. There is no other way to describe this experience other than that Disneyworld could open a ride called, "The Sri Lankan Bus"; though of course it wouldn't pass any of the safety standards. Blaring music, bursting with passengers, and one maniac driver, my 10 minute 767 bus ride from Navaly to Udavil makes me think every single time, "this is it. It's been a nice life. So long world." It is actually less hell-raising to go by motorbike, and you will see that the roads of Jaffna are full of motobikes and bicycles; with the rare Moris Minor car. Interestingly enough, there are just as many female motorcyclists as there are male. On many of the bicycles you'll see teenage boys with their phone pumping out beats as they move 2km/h. It is not hard to see how this translates to Scarborough. Oh by the way, nearly everyone I talk to has a relative in Toronto.

Riding through Jaffna, the sites will tell the story of this place. There is the hustle and bustle of the colorful street vendors, to the serene stretches of paddy fields. Interspersed amongst the life however, there lie numerous derelict houses and buildings. Blackened. Rubble. Abandoned. These serve as a continuous reminder that a civil war took place here - however it does not seem to faze the locals.

My bus arrives just outside Deaf Link. The first half of the day is spent assisting with a program for the children. This entails physical exercise, learning activities, coloring, and playtime. There are 12 boys and girls of varying learning abilities. Some of the handwriting or non-verbal exercises I give them either come back completed and correct, or just with a bunch of swirls scribbled over it. I am particularly fond of Ruben - a nine year old tiny boy who is mute and "dumb", though I think he is just very deep inside his shell. Since giving him attention and playing with him, he's started to smile and even say "Acca".

There is also a 13-year-old girl called Lalitha who has autism. She never participates in class - just runs around the premise smiling inanely and causing chaos. Her story however is far from full of smiles. She is the only child and her family used to live in Colombo. Her condition and the amount of care it demands caused her mother to become mentally affected. Lali can never stay still - she runs everywhere and anywhere, and in the high-story buildings of Colombo this is dangerous. Terrified his daughter could get raped or put in danger in her vulnerable situation, her Dad gave up his prestigious job and moved the family to Udavil, Jaffna, to take full-time care of both his child and wife. I talk to him when he comes to pick her up - my heart sinks everytime. The family are now very poor - Lali comes to the centre wearing her Dad's shirts because she has nothing else. In a place where there is no knowledge of autism, and it is even discriminated against, Deaf Link is providing the essential care. There are said to be over 50 children in the area with some form of learning difficulty that impedes them from going to normal school. However, only 12 attend, as the other families are still not educated on the need for their children to be socialized and given the opportunity to learn. Deaf Link still has a long way to go in terms of learning and recreational equipment. The ball they play with everyday doesn't even have much air.

***
Ugh. I just smelt something burning so went to check out the window and saw a pile of rubbish, including plastic, on fire. It just occurred to me that there is no garbage collection - so I guess this how they do it. Just lovely.
***

The staff at Deaf Link is awesome. After the kids go home at 1pm, I conduct English classes for them. They are mostly girls around my age - and we chat and giggle about the same things I do with my girlfriends back home. (By the way - Jaffna is not as ultra conservative as I presumed it to be - I see much random flirting going on in the bus). All the staff seem very happy and want to stay in Jaffna for the rest of their lives. In conjunction to teaching the kids, they are involved in a business to generate the funds to keep the place running. Another one of my Uncles, the Reverend who administers the project, clearly stated he did not want to rely on foreign donations. The aim is to create a sustainable scheme. Thus at Deaf Link, the business ventures in place include the sale of such things as Palmyra products, spices, handicrafts etc. Some of the staff working in the business are also deaf, and many women. The idea here is that by providing a salary for these workers - as women and marginalized members of society - they feel empowered by being economically independent.

I've got particularly attached to the girls, and one girl Sutha has taken me under her wing. She took me shopping the other day, where the shopkeeper looked at me and then told her in Tamil, "we only sell clothes for thin people". Just what I wanted to hear. She also took me to her home - and this was a weird experience. Her mother emerged from her room looking like she had never left her house. Turns out she hadn't. She's been sitting at home sulking about her "kulapadi" (naughty) husband who has been in the UK for the last number of years, who has failed to send money in recent months. You know what she made me do? She got me on the phone to him and made say in my awkward Tamil: "Kallo. My name is Ramiya. I am living in Canada. You have a very beautiful wife. Why haven't you sent money? Do you have a UK girlfriend?".

A lot more has happened, but I guess I'll have to spread it out over more blog entries. Something that has frustrated me is that a few of the British volunteers I met in Galle wanted to come visit me and see the North. All foreigners have to apply for a Ministry of Defense Clearance to visit the North and this usually takes 3 days but we haven't heard from them 5 days on - so the girls are unable to come. I have a Sri Lankan passport that's why it's been easy for me but for all those thinking of coming - factor that in mind. On the upside though, I've found out that the government has been training Tamils into the police force for the 1.5 years. I was pleasantly surprised to hear this.

I just came home from a bike ride to the paddy fields with my cousin's wife. It was absolutely breath taking. However, on the way back we found ourselves isolated with three soldiers armed with guns. Panic struck me as stories have me fearful of being raped my them. I probably won't do that again, but I've been asking people if they feel scared with the presence of soldiers. Most people, girls included, actually laugh and say no, that this is not like 2 years ago. Maybe they are used to the constant sight of soldiers, but I can't help being uneasy around them. Now I'm off to another Aunt's who is just up the road. She's the one with Internet so I can upload this. What I love about life here is that all my relatives are literally just around the corner.

Killinochi. Jaffna. North-South Peace for Women.

I just successfully went for a wander by myself in Manipay, Jaffna, to buy a packet of biscuits. It made me realise how I couldn't have done this for the last 30 years without being ridden with fear. Then of course a posse of Sri Lankan army soldiers passed me by on their bikes, and I was reminded that things aren't normal.

On my way here, I passed through Killinochi - a former LTTE stronghold. I got out and stood at the exact same spot I was just exactly a year ago. A bittersweet feeling washed over me. The place last year resembled a ghost town - the rubble of homes bombed, no vegetation, army barracks punctuating the road, and hardly anyone walking the streets. Now, the place has people cycling and ambling along, and there is a sense of life; just as colourful flowers have sprouted. However, this is probably a false perception of real change for locals. Bombed houses have now been rebuilt for soldiers. There are still tents with locals living. Amongst the billboards, banks, and gas stations that have gone up, you are always reminded with a shelled house with no roof that has caved in. One former college in Omanthai is now being used as a detention centre for former LTTE cadres, while the students study in tents opposite the road.

All of 12 hours of a bumpy ride later from Colombo, I had entered Elephant Pass - the gateway into the Jaffna Peninsula. Hot, dusty roads that burn barefeet; whispering Palmyra trees that have seen too much; I knew I was here. There is something different about the green in Jaffna. For the South is full of a sharp and lush, tropical green, and here the green is muted and parched. It is a testament to the arid climate of the region, that once propelled Tamils here to seek education over farming, and factored into the civil war that was to come.

The few times I have come to Jaffna, the birthplace of my parents, I shudder with an eerie feeling. I always feel that people are miserable here. But I soon change my mind - for I never meet anyone who wants to leave. Without the fear of being bombed, shot or raped - the life here is beautiful in its simplicity.

Last Saturday, to mark International Women's Day, 50 Sinhalese women from the South had made the same trip I had to the North, to meet with 50 Tamil women. I was able to attend half of the conference. There was a Tamil-Sinhala interpreter on stage with the speakers, and of course my trusty Aunt as my English interpreter. I'm typing up the main points addressed. It's interesting how the issue of North-South peace was not the only focus, but also the emphasis to band together to protest against the rising cost living. (The notes are a little choppy due to interpretation).

The head representative lady from the South speaks - 

• Before there was no relationship between the North and South of the island. This created much misunderstanding. Now the ladies of the South at this conference would like to change that.
• The last 30 years of civil war has affected ladies the most. For we have lost husbands, brothers, and children due to fighting.
• Now that peace is restored, we have to foster better relationships between the North and South. We should not think each other as bad as we are not different. We need the same things in life. Whether Tamil, Sinhalese, or Muslim, we have to learn to be peaceful.
• As mothers, we need to ensure that our children can grow up - not die.
• We need to wipe war from our heads.
• We are average people - but WE have to push the leaders of our country on our social demands.
• The cost of living is very high.
• Produce from the North & East have to be introduced and advertised to the South, and vice versa.
• We must confront our industrial ministers together.
• We must show eachother our cultures.

Sinhala Priest from the South, addressing the women of the North - 

• No people should ever live under the command of another people.
• I see at every junction, there are army soldiers. Do you like the army standing there?
• Now we have freedom - but we don't know about human deaths in the future. For their success, hundreds of thousands have been killed. Is this rule by the people? Is this good?
• In 1948, a coconut was 5 rupees, now it is 60 rupees. Now we have to import them from India.
• Only we can push our government for change.
• First we have to talk about it. Then we have to take our proposals to the government.
• A journalist once asked a army soldier's mother - "Amma, how do you feel your son is killed?". She answered, "It is to protect the country."
• If we asked the mother of a LTTE soldier, she would say the same thing. Who is right?
• Both mothers are wrong. Your children are your country.
• Sirimavo Bandaranaike, Chandrika Bandaranaike, Benazir Bhutto, Sheikh Hasina; were all women with leading roles. But did they use their power to campaign for equality for women and men? No.
• At a hospital recently, a mother saw another baby crying for milk for awhile. She did not know whether the baby was Tamil or Sinhala or Muslim - but she picked it up and gave it milk.
• The love of being a Mother is much greater than anything else.
• We can ask questions on how to change the world - or we can just remain quiet.

Unfortunately, my aunt ran off sometime before a female Sinhala Professor rose to the stand. What I gathered from the Tamil interpretation is that she was talking about the institutional and social bias towards women in Sri Lanka; that exists in paradox to what is outlined in the constitution. After the lunch break, the ladies got into discussion groups - but I had to go.

It was all-in-all positive to see such an initiative was taking place. Often abroad, we hear how clueless the rest of the country are to what has been going on in the North and East and their government, and about a lack of willingness to understand. This conference signified something important in defying the absoluteness of that claim.

Got lots more to say! Will be blogging soon...
:o)

Galle - The Wrap Up

I've actually now travelled from the South to the North of the Island, the Jaffna Peninsula.

I have a load to blog already about the North - but I have to wrap up the Galle chapter. Not homesick yet. But these blasted mosquitoes! They seem to think it's happy hour, every hour, at Bar Ramiya. I am going to go on an electrocution rampage one of these days.

So I think the blog followers mostly want to know about the Cook from the Elders' Home - the victim of domestic abuse.

I read all your comments (thank you!) and was quite shocked actually to see that you thought there was no hope. I wish for all of you to realise that is never OK to just accept a situation - there is always scope for change.

I asked to speak to Janaka - the volunteer coordinator. Being a full-time manager for a busy tourist resort in Unawatuna, I am appreciative that he came home early to talk to me. I told him the story of the lady and arranged for him to meet her at the Elders' Home. Both being able to speak Sinhalese, Janaka would be able to scope the issue to its fullest. Speaking to the cook a few days later, with me present, he asked her what exactly she wanted to do. As her eyes turned into pools of water, she said that she would never go back to her husband, that she wants security, and when asked, mentioned she is not happy with her work at the Elders'.

The conclusion we came to: Janaka is going to find work for her at a family home as a domestic servant. She could offer her only skills of cooking and cleaning, and it would benefit her to have more rest and privacy to recooperate from her turmoil. I used to think Sri Lankans had the most holidays in the world - as Poya Day falls every 28 days of the year. However, work for places like the Elders' & the Orphanage must go on 365 days of the year. These workers get NOT A SINGLE DAY OFF throughout the year. Makes me feel bad for recruiting campaigners for a 3-day weekend. Anyway, working for a family in a home environment would give the cook at least 3 days off in a month, and maybe more depending on the family.

I do wish to do more research into what exactly is needed to support abuse victims. I know that it would have been a lot better for a woman to have talked to the cook instead of Janaka - but Janaka has made a pledge to protect her and take hold of the issue now that I am gone. As I left the Elders' on the last day, she teared up - which made me realise how she genuinely has noone. I've been calling her every few days since then. The most important thing is that she is free from her husband.

There was another change at the Elders'. One day, the workers made the other volunteers and I carry close to 150 buckets of water up a slope, only so we could pour it down and brush dirt off in the 2 seconds we had before all the water ran down. Um. I'm sure all of you are thinking - HOSE? It's absolutely inefficient and did I mention back-breaking! I told Janaka and asked for a 30m hose. So now they have one - and don't have to carry stupid buckets that completely immobilize us for the rest of the day. The workers seem very happy about this - however the next time, started carrying buckets again! When I exclaimed "HOSE!" about 5 times - only did they go fetch it. It seems that to implement any change around here, you have to stick around and train those involved thoroughly to ensure its success.

At the Orphanage, I've now given showers to the kids, and changed non-pooey nappies. I got scolded at for pouring water over a 2 year old's head and got chased out of the shower room by the staff lady. Apparently I don't know about children's health - but she's allowed to beat them with a cane and coop them indoors for hours in unchanged nappies. Once when walking around the cribs I saw a 1 year old who was wide awake and crying - so I took her out into the garden. After an hour, another staff member came running to me, chattering away in Sinhala and then pointed to this rash on the kid's head. Now apparently, I've given the kid Scabies from taking her outside. She had not been aware that this baby has had this rash on her head for the past few weeks i've been there. It gets worse. What does she do - in her fit of hysteria, she takes ALL the kids inside. Now, 20 kids who were happily entertaining themselves are now crying in a pen. I really want to learn, "You are SO dumb" in Sinhala.

My other experiences were with the community children and Nurses. I wasn't entirely sure if the "street" kids were actually off the street - but one of the volunteers assured me that he met the father of one them - crackpipe in one hand, baby in the other arm. Work with the Nurses cannot really be called work - but a lot of fun. It was really hard, even after only 3 weeks, to say bye to the orphans. I wonder how many people have briefly entered and exited their lives. Overall, the Galle experience has been a good introduction to voluntary work. I have been given the opportunity to help in some way. Also, I'm really starting to see the trend of my annoyance that runs through most things Sri Lankan - INEFFICIENCY.

Now I'm in Jaffna - I actually feel like I'm in a different country. I will blog soon again about my experiences here. =)