Memories of Sri Lanka
SAVORY: As soon as I walked into the room I was overcome by the
savory aromas of curry and coconut. Memories associated with these
scents that I have missed during the past six weeks back in my hometown,
New York City rushed to the forefront of my mind.
I thought of all of the wonderful meals with lovely friends I had
made while in Sri Lanka for nine months. I joined my New York friends
who were waiting for me at the Sri Lankan restaurant in the East Village
of New York City, Sigiri owned by Tanya De Silva and Mala Rajapakse.
I surveyed the room and saw three other groups already enjoying their
meals of rice and curry. I heard murmurs of Sinhala and when I closed my
eyes, I felt, just for a moment, that I had never left the beautiful
island.
There were four of us at the table, three friends who had visited me
and myself in Colombo this past April while I was living and studying
there for my post-graduate degree in Sustainable Development. As we
waited for our food to arrive, we shared memories of our trip fondly -
our travels down the coast to Galle District, then up to Nuwara Eliya
and time exploring Colombo.
As the conversation continued, I considered the transition I have
made over the past month - all that I had left behind in Sri Lanka and
the events in life since my return to New York. After spending time
getting to know and love the culture and the people of Sri Lanka,
leaving the country was not an easy thing to do.
The last time I wrote my reflections, I was getting ready to leave
Sri Lanka with an unknown immediate future - other than finishing the
work for my degree while living at home in New York. I had lived abroad
several times before in Africa and Europe and each time returning to New
York, transitioning from one culture to another was a challenging yet
manageable experience.
Yet this time, returning to my native country was more difficult of a
transition than ever - I found myself pining for Sri Lanka. Perhaps it
was related to having to leave so abruptly.
Instead of staying through the end of December as planned, my
university in America required me to leave with only two weeks notice
since they were concerned for my safety in Colombo. Several of my
American classmates challenged our school's decision and stayed behind -
I was proud of them, yet I also wished I could have done the same. There
were so many places I had yet to visit and things I had yet to do in Sri
Lanka, it did not seem right at the time to have to go, but I knew there
was a reason for my return.
I spent the month back in New York, happy to be with my friends and
family, yet longing to still be in Sri Lanka. How had the country left
such a strong impression on me? To be honest, it took several months for
me to get used to the rhythm of Colombo and the village where my
homestay was.
In New York, I enjoyed the respect and freedom of being a young woman
with the ability to do things on my own without feeling judged. My
initial experience in Sri Lanka took a lot of time and energy to adjust
to, but once I got familiar with my surroundings, I felt a deep
connection and respect for the country, its culture and its people.
When I first arrived in Colombo, I had the impression that being an
academic woman in the country on my own to do research was somewhat
looked down upon or questioned by Sri Lankans whom I met. Although the
fact that I was a student was highly respected, the element of being a
young woman on my own was not. I noticed that once I built relationships
with people, they respected who I was - as I was also given the
opportunity to learn what others' values were and did my best to show
mutual respect.
For example, when I first arrived in the home of my host family in
Kalutara district, they requested that I not go anywhere by myself. This
seemed preposterous to me since my purpose was to conduct research and
would require me to do things on my own, frequently.
Yet I understood that their intentions were good - they were only
thinking of my safety and how I would be viewed by the rest of the
village. After several days of getting to know the family, I slowly did
more things on my own, always sure to tell them of my whereabouts.
Fortunately, there were other classmates located nearby in the
village - three Americans and one Sri Lankan, so I was sure to make use
of their company so my host family felt more comfortable. By the end of
the year, a strong bond of trust had developed among all of us - they no
longer asked what I did or tried to influence what I should do.
They would let me take the children with me for long walks on the
beach or to a field to do yoga. In fact, I shared with them what I did
anyway because I knew they trusted me and we loved and cared for one
another.
In Colombo, I went through a different experience, which unfolded in
three stages. In the first stage I felt very comfortable walking around
and doing things on my own in the capital because, I think, I was more
or less oblivious to what people were thinking. I ran errands on my own,
would go to meet friends on my own without being aware of the looks of
disapproval that came my way.
In the second stage, I suddenly felt very aware and self-conscious of
what Sri Lankan men and women thought of me - whether it was doing
things on my own, what I wore and how I interacted with others.
This stage particularly increased as I was learning more Sinhala and
began to hear pieces of peoples' comments around me - wondering where I
was from and what I was doing in Sri Lanka. I also recall being alone
for the first time after nightfall, and all of the strange looks I
received - it was not the experience I was expecting, as this is a
respectable thing for a woman to do where I am from. I continued to try
to be respectful of the culture, but the difficulty was that I was not
fully aware of what the right thing to do was.
Finally, I came to the realisation that while I wanted to respect the
various cultures in Sri Lanka, I also needed to be true to my own
identity. Further, I recognized that there was no one right way to live
life anyway. Just as in anywhere else in the world, there will always be
people to criticize and support you. After taking the time to ask
questions from trusted friends on what is culturally appropriate, it was
apparent that continuing to be genuine was the best approach.
This mentality prompted me to explore Colombo on foot one day, even
though I realized that a woman walking alone in Colombo for leisure was
unusual and perhaps not respected by some. I heard from a friend the day
after going for a Sunday stroll in Colombo - they told me that they saw
me walking.
When I asked why they didn't say hello the response was, "well, I was
with my parents, and you know...?" Indeed, I did know - their parents
would not take well to a young woman walking the streets of Colombo
unaccompanied.
I don't wish to make generalizations or say that there is something
wrong with all of Sri Lankan mentality. I would only like to point out
that I experienced these judgments towards young women to be true in
some cases.
Although I did face challenges in getting adjusted to Sri Lanka, I
mostly enjoyed the friendliness that was more evident and frequent than
the presence of judging and mistreating others.
The genuine interactions amongst people, especially friends, always
struck me as a quality to be grateful for during my time in Sri Lanka.
My Sri Lankan colleagues and friends were endlessly generous, kind and
most of all - accepting.
Although clearly I was an "outsider," it never ceased to amaze me at
the welcoming that I experienced in peoples' lives and homes of those I
met. For all of the physical beauty of the island, I believe it was the
relationships with people that made it particularly hard to leave Sri
Lanka.
Although it was disappointing to have to leave last September, there
was a hidden blessing for me in having to go home. I was able to spend
time with my aging maternal grandmother, "Nana," who had recently become
ill.
I even spent the last hours of her life by her side - something I
would not have been here to do if I had still been in Sri Lanka, as was
the original plan. Other than helping my family care for my "Nana," I
spent time working on my thesis, writing papers for my course work,
doing yoga and reconnecting with all of the family and friends I had not
seen in nearly a year. I explored the streets of my own city as though I
was a tourist - as though I was seeing things for the first time.
A gust of cold wind blew into the restaurant to bring me back to the
present - the waiter brought the four curries to our table and I
immediately felt comforted by the familiarity of the meal. I savored the
scrumptious tastes in my mouth with each bite.
The spices were delicious enough to want seconds and thirds -
although not exactly as my host mother in Kalutara would make it. The
four of us finished all of the food on the table - rice, curries and
string hoppers. We couldn't resist sharing desert - Kiri, Watalappam and
caramel pudding.
Americans tend to eat rather early, especially on a Monday like this
one. By 10pm, we were the last ones in the restaurant. We struck up a
conversation with the women from the restaurant, providing a chance to
practice some Sinhala. We chatted about food, what we missed about Sri
Lanka and how I had just learned of a Sri Lankan community of over 5,000
people in Staten Island, New York.
I noticed paintings on the wall and they seemed familiar. The women
explained that the paintings were done by children who had survived the
tsunami in Sri Lanka and they would be sold at an art auction directed
by a university lecturer, Dr. Pamela Lawton. They showed me a sign with
the information, and then I realized that by chance I had met Dr. Lawton
and her American students while in Sri Lanka.
I took down the information and added the event to my planning book.
I looked forward to surprising Dr. Lawton and her students, who thought
I was still in Sri Lanka. I also heard it would be catered with Sri
Lankan food, one more reason to look forward to attending.
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