Memories #2
August 25th, 2006My memories of Sri Lanka are from a seven year-old’s perspective, when we returned, and I ‘met’ my sisters for the first time.
I remember a country filled with vibrant colour and cheek-squeezing relatives, generous despite their lack of ’stuff’. A cousin sharing with me a biscuit taken from a hidden tin, not knowing that I would later help myself to her secret stash. Being amazed that there was no chocolate or jam or any of the niceties I took for granted, not knowing that these things were available, but only at a price, a price which most people couldn’t afford to pay.
I was allowed sole use of my grandfather’s derelict (and long-forgotten) ‘western’ toilet , because I couldn’t bring myself to use the ’squatee’ toilet, like everyone else. My grandmother’s house, where she lived with her daughter and grand-children, and where we stayed for much of our holiday, didn’t have running water and everyone washed and bathed at the well at the back of the house. The water was ice-cold and I remember being chased around the garden, screaming as I ran away from whoever had the pleasant task of making sure I washed, that day. One of my aunts had indoor plumbing but still no hot water, so even washing in her tiled bathroom, involved much chasing and struggling to wash a sweaty, grimey, seven year-old.
We hired a bus, a proper bus, and we all went on a pilgrimage with a load of my dad’s family, who are Hindus. On the way we stopped to bathe in a river, and the women tied sarongs around their bust to preserve their modesty - not a bikini or thong in sight, you’ll be pleased to hear 
I remember one of my sisters squealing as a fish swam up her sarong, and the commotion it caused as it tried to get out!
We visited a tea plantation in the north, the hills were lush and green, and the climate was cool. I weighed myself on the giant scales used for weighing huge bags and boxes of tea leaves. I had lost some weight after being ill for a few days but I doubt I weighed the 2 stone that at the time I believed I did.
Ants, there were ants everwhere, some black some red. The red ones were ferocious. They seemed to smell sugar a mile away and would follow me everwhere, greedily licking up the trail of melted ice-lollies that soon became my signature.
Innocent times.
I haven’t been back to Sri Lanka since that time, I guess the war breaking out in 1983, my lack of skill with either of the two spoken languages, and more recently, the fact that disabled access doesn’t figure in the vocabulary there, are all reasons for staying away. Part of me thinks that if I did go back, I would be terribley disappointed, because my memories, as a seven year-old are almost thirty years old, and were probably seen through rose-tinted spectacles.
While travelling in 1999, I ended up in Bali on my way to surrounding islands. I was amazed at how at home I felt on there, it is the only Hindu island in Indonesia. It reminded me so much of Sri Lanka that I felt homesick for it, and made plans in my head to visit soon, but never did.
