MY STREET ACHEE

It has been getting harder to keep up with the blogging lately. Partly, this is because we have much more of a routine now and more things to keep us busy throughout the days. The other reason is that as our eyes become accustomed to the sights around us and as the things we do become part of the norm, it becomes harder to think of what to tell you about.

So, seeing as I had decided that it had been far too long since I had posted an entry, I found myself trawling through our multitude of photos, looking for something that might spark my imagination - a photo that might give me a springboard to dive into a post about Sri Lanka or our life here. Almost despairing of finding the 'right' photo, I came across my street achee.

Achee used to sit everyday at the statue erected to St. Anthony. All through the intense heat of the day, she would sit there. When she got tired, she would lay on the hard tiles and sleep. The traffic roared around past her all day long, throwing noise and dust her way. The devout would pass her to kiss St. Anthony's feet or offer a prayer; the kind might give her some coins. When the rain came, she might cross the busy road for shelter on the other side. Thankfully, there were times when kind strangers would help her across, as this is a main road and Achee had very little sight left. I have no idea where she went to at night.

We got to pass Achee every week day as we took the kids to school. I soon found myself checking every time we passed St. Anthony's statue, to see if she was there and how she was looking. To me, she became 'my street achee' (Achee is Sinhala for grandma). Grandmas should be sitting in a comfy chair at home, with a good meal and lots of love. They should not be sitting, day after day, on the hard ground as the rest of the world rushes on their way. From time to time I would take her a loaf of bread or a lunch packet. I figured that bread was good because she could eat some and save the rest for later. I used to have to shout, "Achee . . . Achee . . . parn, parn (bread, bread)" and put the loaf in her hands. I would help her take the elastic band off the loaf - that required a bit too much co-ordination for dim eyes and elderly fingers. Once I tried to find out how old she was. She told me 108. Although it would be possible, I had my doubts. Still, whatever her age, I am amazed at her durability, living day after day that way.

I found myself worrying more and more about street Achee. It would horrify me to think that if my grandma was sitting there, that nobody would help her. I began to look into getting her into an aged care home. We found one that was free, for old people who might find themselves in similar circumstances, but unfortunately it was full. Sadly, the other few required expenses beyond my grasp. Still, it gave me a bit of an interesting insight into life in Sri Lankan nursing homes. Thank goodness for those beautiful people taking such care of those coming to the end of their lives.

Now, I really don't want to sound like I'm blowing my own trumpet here. In reality, I'm sad to say that what I did for my street Achee was barely anything at all. It may have come to your attention that throughout this post I have refered to Achee in the past tense. I can't actually tell you of her fate. One day, she simply was not there and we did not see her again. Prince and I hypothesised. Perhaps some kindly people took her and were able to get her into a home. Perhaps she took ill and was taken to a government hospital for treatment. Still, although these were comforting 'perhapses', we both knew that the odds were more likely that she had died. It has been months now, and with nobody able to tell us what became of Street Achee we can only assume that on her time on earth was finally up.

I still find myself checking St. Anthony's statue whenever we drive past. Maybe, just maybe, she'll return and there will be another chance to get her into a home, where she might die in a warm bed with a full tummy. Opportunities can be so fleeting. Yet, the slow learner that I am, I am still learning how to take them while they are there. So this blog is written in loving memory of my street Achee. May nobody die unnoticed.

DECISIONS, DECISIONS

When anyone plans a move, hard decisions inevitably have to be made about what to take and what to leave behind. For us, we did not want to take a great deal of things so we tried to take the bare minimum. Furniture was sold and some stored away in our gracious relatives' sheds. My parents, who had just moved from a small unit to a house, also provided invaluable assistance in taking a lot of the large items.

The lawnmower went (hooray!) as did all the gardening equipment. I love a good garden but they are a full time job and I am much happier without one. The BBQ was sent off to a new, loving home. This proved to be a wise idea. It would have gathered dust as good sausages and steaks are nowhere be found.

All the childrens' toys were kept to start up the toy library for the preschools in the slums. These are treasured and returned meticulously on each visit. We sold the childrens swing set and trampoline, much to their dismay. However, Brenton's good friend has a swing set and trampoline which they can now use on every visit.

Cutlery, glasswear, crockery and cooking utensils made the long journey. Hayley was not going to give up on cooking and, after just polishing off a muffin, I am convinced this was the right move. However, we have carried all the glasses and dinner sets in suitcases back to Australia as the house we are in came complete with these items.

Children's books came, once again as a good start up for the library, and these English books seem to be more popular than the locally bought Sinhala books. Our rather large collection of books remained with their shelves at my parents' house for their perusal.

The most difficult decision was what to do with my tools. As a carpenter, I enjoying building and fixing things and I don't like paying someone else to do it. Selling the tools was not an option and storage seemed like a waste of their purpose. Eventually I settled on leaving the large, single-purpose tools behind. Although they can make a job faster, most jobs can be done without them. Since being here I have built some shelves and fixed some doors and changed washers and general fixing, so the tools have been useful, but not indespensible. I wanted to find something that I could use them for that would help in our work here. It wasn't until a visit to one of the pre-schools that I realised what I could do.

These schools depend on donations as the parents are too poor to offer any form of payment. We help by offering games, toys, jigsaws and books for them to borrow, similar to the toy libraries that we have back in Australia. At this stage, we have been unable to bring in any large items that can be used in the schools. I noticed that they had very little play equipment. They had wanted one of those plastic cubby houses which, we were to discover, cost more than they do in Australia. From this came the idea to build some cubby houses for the library. Below are some pictures that were taken after we dropped off the first prototype. You be the judge of if I made the right decision to bring the tools.

EXPLORING

Every now and then we like to travel a little further from home to explore this island we have found ourselves in. April brings the Sinhala/Tamil New Year and two weeks off school for the kids, so it is the perfect time for such a venture. We had some business to attend to in Polonnaruwa and we had often heard Prince extol the virtues of Sigiriya, so we thought this would be a great time to merge business and pleasure by visiting both places.

We decided to do the drive to Sigiriya over two days, stopping overnight in Kandy. It is not often that we can take our time like this, so it was a real pleasure to enjoy a 'short' drive and not feel like we were rushing. There was even time for the kids to have a swim in the morning and for us to take a stroll before we needed to move on. We stopped in Dambulla for lunch and then it was on to Sigiriya to trawl for a place to stay. We finally picked a place, complete with monkeys running around the grounds.

The next day we decided to visit the Sigiriya Rock Fortress. This is the magma plug of an extinct volcano which is now home to ancient ruins. Many archaeologists believe it to be the site of an old monastry, but locals will tell you that it was the home of an ancient king, who built his palace on the top and this seems to be the description that has stuck. Whatever it was, its pretty amazing to see.

First you will cross the moat and then walk through the remains of the water gardens. You can see the rock in the distance and you will wonder how on earth you are ever going to make it to the top. As you start up the stairs you will be met by many guides wanting to adopt you for the ascent, obviously looking for rupees. We prefer to explore on our own. As you continue up the stairs you will cautiously heed the signs not to make to much noise for the risk of upsetting hornets. The hornet nests are massive. By the time you get to the top of the stone staircase you will know that its a hot day and, undoubtedly, you will have worked up a fair sweat. And now you are at the foot of the rock.

Here you can climb up a large spiral staircase attached to the side of the rock (don't look down!) to view the ancient rock art. Most of these ancient drawings have been destroyed but a few still remain, protected from the harsh sun by a canvas that has been erected. To view the drawings you stand on a plank scaffolding, a bit like a window-washer for a multi-storey building. Definitely not for the faint-hearted, but well worth it. Upon descent you will pass the graffiti wall where, over centuries, people have written praise for the beauty of the ladies drawn on the rock wall. This wall is now protected from the public, so no new graffiti allowed.

You will now go around the rock to the point where you will begin your ascent to the top. On the way you will pass a gigantic boulder that rests on a series of smaller rocks, set up like dominoes. This is an ancient defence mechanism, set up but clearly never used. Should invaders have come, the dominoes would have been activated to set the boulder sliding down the hill, crushing those in it's path. Around from here you will find yourself at the Lion's Staircase. In ancient days, a huge statue of a lion stood over the foot of the staircase. One would begin their ascent by passing through the open mouth of the lion. All that remains these days are the large lion's paws.
The stone staircase ends and one must now climb a set of metal steps attached to the side of the rock. Although the more timid might find that this climb leaves their heart in their throat, they will find it preferable to the way people used to have to get to the top - scaling the side of the rock using notches carved into the rock face. At the top, climbers are able to check out the ancient remains - a palace or a monastry, depending on which story you follow - and are treated to a pretty spectacular view. Up here you will also find the ladies' pool and a throne where the king could appreciate the vista unfurled before him (or the ladies bathing, depending on which way he was looking). Upon descent you will pass the council chambers. This is a large piece of boulder that had broken away from the main rock and is believed to have been used as a meeting place for court matters.

The next day we decided to take the kids for an elephant ride. There is a town, not far from where we are staying, where several houses on the main road have signs advertising elephant rides. We went with a guy who was a friend of a friend of a friend. I was relieved that this elephant ride was in a basket. This was my third elephant ride, but my last one was bareback. Riding an elephant bareback gives you a true perspective of how large these animals really are and, for me, it's quite scary when you realise how far away the ground is. Our elephant was named Rajah and he took us along the main road and then down some back streets to the open plains. As Rajah took us down into the river, the rain began to fall. It was such a fantastic experience to be riding this creature through the river and then up through fields of mango trees, with the cool rain falling on us to break through the hot morning. By the time we returned to the main road, the rain had stopped and the hot sun made short work of drying us out. As Rajah lumbered along the road, passing vehicles slowed and we waved cheerily at the staring onlookers. At the end of our journey we were able to reward Rajah for his efforts with some fruit. Later that afternoon we decided to go for a walk to explore the area around our hotel. Thankfully we did not come across any elephants then, as wild elephants are considered to be quite dangerous.

From Sigiriya, we moved on to Polonnaruwa. Polonnaruwa is also home to many ancient ruins but this was not to be on our agenda this visit. We chose a hotel situated on the large tank (or dam). This tank was first constructed under the direction of an ancient king, although it was more like a series of tanks. Over time, the tanks were combined to create one massive tank, which is a place where locals can fish, wash, do laundry and play. Our purpose in Polonnaruwa was business but after we met those obligations, we were still able to go for a drive looking for wild elephants. Much to our delight, we were lucky enough to see and photograph a wild elephant before it disappeared again into the bushes. No flash photography though, that aggravates them.

Finally it was time to head back to Negombo. This time we decided to do the entire journey at once, so this was a full day's drive. By the end of the day we were back; sleepy, with suitcases over the floor, a full memory card in the camera and heads full of memories.

BEING A LOCAL

Having now been in Sri Lanka for about 15 months, we consider ourselves locals to some degree. Without giving away too many trade secrets, having the resident stamp in your passport ensures that we get some perks of being local without having to change our skin colour. Mostly these are financial gains. For example, hotels generally have two different prices: one for foriegners (what we look like) and one for locals (what we can now say we are). This can make a difference of up to 50% in the price. This price differentiation also extends to entry into nature parks, musuems and zoos. Usually a portion or all of this goes to the tour operator or the local driver that has taken you there.

As "locals" it is nice to go out and be recognised rather than being noticed. Being stared at is quite normal for us when we go out and it is something I have learnt to live with. But recognition is so much better and makes us feel like we are a part of Negombo. We are known around our house and also down on the main road by the beach. This means we are no longer asked if we want to go to the fish markets, Negombo city or have a massage every time we pass a three-wheeler. In fact one Croatian guy we know has started printing t-shirts with that exact slogan. We have even got to know a few of the local beggars so that now they are happy to sit back and wait to see if we have any loose change for them, as we give more often than not. We know and are content in the fact that we will never be free from shouting "Hello" and "Goodbye"halfadozen times to the children living on our street that we pass each day.

However, there are often a few locals that want to offer more than a stare and a quick hello. One such fellow is the security guard where we do our shopping. His job is to ensure no one takes bags into the shop and help the cars reverse safely in the car park, which Prince always protests about as if it is an affront to his driving skills. If he spots us he always comes over and says hello at least four times and a hearty double-handed handshake. He will come over and open doors for us, but as his English is poor he ends up just hovering around, smiling, until we leave. His English may be bad but our Sinhala is not much better (though if I need to know where the fat, black cat was sleeping, he would be the first person I would ask.)

Still, there are still those occasions where we are happy to settle for trips to the pool just to blend in with all the other "Suddas".

INTRODUCING THEODORE

We are beginning to wonder if our house is turning into a halfway house for local animals. The latest little fellow to find his way into our home is a baby chipmunk. Prince brought him along one morning. He had fallen out of a tree (the chipmunk, not Prince!) and, being a baby, still lacked the climbing ability to get himself back home. After some not-so-subtle hints from Prince, we agreed to take him in.

Considering that Lovely the Egret only managed to survive 10 days with us and our turtles escaped, Darren has been hesitant to give the chipmunk a name. I call him Theodore, but I also like what the Sri Lankans call chipmunks - Tinting (from the sound they make). Whatever we call him, there is no denying that he is unbelievably cute! He is incredibly affectionate. He sleeps a lot but when he is awake he loves human company. He loves to crawl all over you and look for places to burrow and snuggle. Now that he's getting more confident and more capable he loves to go exploring, especially if he can climb or burrow. He likes to bask on the laptop (it generates a fair amount of heat) but he gets jealous of my mouse and tries to attack the scroll wheel on it.

So, as you can probably tell, even in the space of a couple of days we have all become particularly fond of Theodore/Tinting/technically unnamed Chipmunk. We know that eventually he'll probably find himself a proper home in the wild, so we keep reminding ourselves, but until then I guess the McQuades Halfway Home for Sri Lankan Wildlife remains in operation.

OUR NEW CLASS

We have recently begun work with a new group of students. We are excited about this because this is our first group that we will work with on a regular basis. It is also our first adult class. This class has four students,who are also completing a college course. They spend one day a week with us learning English and computing. This will not only help them in their current course but will help them be accepted into higher level college courses in the future. The students come from various places in Sri Lanka but, for their course, are based in a town a few hours away from us. They travel by bus to get to and from our class, which means a long day and lots of travelling, but they are so keen to learn. We are hoping to have a second class starting a few months from now.

HEADING EAST: PART 2

After visiting the pre-schools we were invited to visit the homes of some of the locals. The people we visited were neither Sinhala nor Tamil, but Veddah. The Veddah people are the aboriginal inhabitants of Sri Lanka. Where the Sinhalese people and the Tamil people both have their origins in India, the Veddah have always lived in Sri Lanka. Veddah have a close relationship with the land and, even today, many still practise traditional ways of hunting and cultivation. Unfortunately, much of the jungle area which would be their traditional land has been cleared. Also, intermarriage has meant that Veddah culture is at risk of being lost. Thankfully, it seems that recognition of the benefits of the traditional Veddah land practices is encouraging a comeback for Veddah culture.

It was a particular honour to be able to visit the local Veddah tribal chief. The chief was blind, but he told us the story of when, years back when his eyesight was better, he was taken all the way over to the West coast so he could have an operation to have his cataracts removes. The doctor explained the operation to him and he thought that the doctor was saying that he would have his eyeballs removed. Naturally, the chief was terrified and he ran away back to his home on the other side of the island. Later, when the opportunity arose again and he better understood the operation, it was too late.

On our way home from visiting the Veddahs we noticed a curious sight. As we drove we passed many men on bicycles, travelling in the opposite direction, carrying rifles across their laps. Our host was able to explain. It seemed that, at some stage in the past, the government had supplied the locals with guns, just in case they found themselves caught in the middle of the ongoing conflict. On regular occasions, these locals need to present themselves and the guns at the local police station for inspection. It turned out that today just happened to be gun-checking day.