A hurricane is sweeping through Cernoland (medical emergencies aside). Its hard to keep track of what day it is. Days not spent in the office are called public holidays and weekends apparently. Such as our first truly independent, independence day. Without a war that defined the last 30 years, the corrupt politicians who kept it going and the dictates of far away terrorist sheltering governments. Personally I prefer the corrupt politicians who ended this war.
Of course these are naive simplistic thoughts. Since I never had to worry about a loved one ending up like this I might be expected to take a slightly more sophisticated view. I might come across a government “stooge” — particularly to some relatives who will never know.
We may have political differences but we are still family. Right now that’s what counts. We have to rely on each other, not politicians make the new optimism real. Just as we did when times were bad. Undoubtedly life is a messy process littered with some hard choices. Some of them may be very personal. I’m just waiting for veranda gripping to be over. Though I have to admit I don’t think I can take another convoluted story about how the president’s family rigged the elections.
All I hope from our rulers is a bit of boring history. Without riots, rebellions and terrorism. A time we can remember through harmless personal histories. Of being left alone to earn a living, contribute to some economic growth and perhaps win an international cricket match or two. If our rulers can provide that, they have earned whatever they looted in all the stories I have heard.
Right now, I’m amazed at the simple miracle of finding the time to peck these sloppy incoherent words. Something I tentatively started 3 years ago today- an event as insignificant as this blog. At least it gets the floating words out of my head to focus on more important things.
Finally to you who have put up with it all, Thank you 
From its streets, Colombo is a warren of high walls and blocked off vistas. Unless you have the fortune/misfortune to live in one of those new high rise condos, you don’t have much of a view. The recent commuting to hospital reminded me of some photos I took from the upper floors of Durdans Hospital in Colombo a long while back. I combined them to create the “panorama” below (not as high tech as my earlier attempt). Mainly as a futile escape from other more important demands on my time.
The view is looking northwards. Since I’m not used to being in high places I have no idea what the high rises in the distance are. I took a few guess but I expect I’m typically wrong. If you can ID some of building, the comment box awaits. Alternatively you can add notes in the image’s flickr page (reached by clicking on the image).
Click here to view a 1024 pixel wide image.
To top off this post, the approximate location on Google Maps.
I spent election day in hospital with a relative. Suffice to say that it wasn’t election related and that everyone’s ok. Didn’t get to vote – not that mine would in anyway affect the outcome. Now its the ritual runs between hospital and home. Wards, car parks, a slightly different commute. I want this routine to end. Just like the tedious election rumours that are running around. I guess it will when something else begins. Such is life.
Many thanks for all your comments. Sorry I haven’t yet had a chance to respond to them all until things get sorted out..
Whoever wins this election, we Sri Lankans will be fine — or the very least manage OK. There will be no apocalypse. Life will go on. Sri Lankans will try to make life better with or without the government and NGOs. Not having a war will help.
This is a naive sounding feather ruffling U turn from an earlier post overloaded with “Alien vs Predator” references. This is obviously not a conclusion based on rigourous analytical research. It’s a gut feeling that’s gelled through a mix of personal experience and the “narratives” of my extended Sri Lankan network — a process similar to a famed Morgan Stanley reporting method. The feeling has strengthened by conversations permeating through the soup of RFRFFR (Relatives, Friends, Relatives of Friends, and Friends of Relatives) gatherings in the last few days.
The conversation flows were not about the election but on recollections of living through the last 40 years. The elders brought out some hair raising details of the first JVP insurrection. The petty indignities of the socialist 1970s got their turn. Stories of the 83 riots resuscitated my own recollections. Tales from the JVP years of the late 1980s got there turn. In between were numerous LTTE bomb blasts described from many view points. Not to mention war stories from the grim days of the 1990s. Remind me of the experiences of Sri Lankan military families and the history witnessed/endured by soldiers.
Among the more mundane escapades were the struggles of keeping businesses going and employees paid in the face of JVP threats. Getting work done despite checkpoints and bombs. Finding curfew passes at short notice and getting medicine through to grandparents. Lighting candles during power cuts and hauling portable generators through the arrivals hall at the airport.
Yet none of the stories were framed entirely as a lamentation or a wallow in self pity. Instead they were quiet affirmations of ingenuity in the face of adversity. Where descriptions of personal courage were understated avoid sounding boastful. Apparent in all of them celebrations of the endurance and strength of Sri Lankan social networks.
None of those recollections were “fun”. There was a lot of worrying. The endless conversation during my childhood started with some uncle saying “what is this country coming to”. A singular achievement of my parents was to somehow shield me from the worry. I grew up in a world where checkpoints curfews, bag inspections and school closures were the normal.
We have had a bumpy ride through the last 40 years and will experience more rattling in the future (when has history ever been turbulence free). Despite all that we have been through Sri Lanka did not become a Somalia, a Bosnia, a Rwanda, or an Afghanistan (though there are many who would massage the stats to say otherwise). We may face seemingly odious voting choices. However we’ll pick somebody from what circumstances allow. Then manage with the consequence of the collective choice.
I’m too sceptical of any politician’s ability to deliver some sort of better future. Yet I feel that our historical expectations of a ruler will somehow prevent politicians from making too much of a mess. The notion comes from an oddly fanatical faith in the resilience and ingenuity of Sri Lankans to survive (even thrive) despite the pot holes created by politics and history (I did say this post has nothing scientific about it).
Irrespective of the winning moustache, there will be corruption. Organised crime will continue its ooze into politics. The newly crowned ruler will have to buy the loyalty of the political aristocracy (the Americans have systems of lobbyists and interests groups to makes such things seem civilised). There’ll be plenty of outrages to fill newspapers and blog posts about.
At least there’s less of a chance that the bus you are in will blow up. A kid in Wanni will have a future of not being hauled off to be cannon fodder for a terrorist death cult — or be brain washed into a suicide bomber. Even vote one day. A generation will grow up not knowing checkpoints. Change for the better will come almost impercivably and unevenly. In uncoordinated fits, starts, and many setbacks. It will happen because people will figure out ways of making life easier, and get things done better. It won’t be pretty, neat or according to an EU template for a “developing democracy”.
I wish I could be more specific, analytical and intelligible (let along eloquent) but like I said this is my inexplicable gut feeling. Whoever wins we’ll move on to something better. Not because of the winner but because we can despite the politics.
I feel lucky to have a few moments to type this. A tsunami of family and social events have swept me away from this blog for over a week. I have received a prescription strength overdose of relatives, friends, relatives of friends, and friends of relatives (RFRFFR). Consequently it has led to numerous realisations (particularly about politics and the election) that will find expression in other posts assuming I get the time to peck them out. The short version is that I’ve decided to vote for the current president (a shocking reversal from an earlier stance). I am also more optimistic than ever about Sri Lanka’s future (irrespective of the winning moustache).
The social storm has included two piriths plus alms givings within the last 6 days alone — outside various dinners and lunches. I thought this sort of social frenzy would fade out after the new year “season”. Specially when the overseas people went back. Turns out they came later and are staying longer. In the middle of that I’ve managed to get sick and be subjected to numerous vile traditional portions cooked up by relatives highly qualified in western medicine. Needless to say I’ve recovered.
The benefit of being immersed in this family soup is a serious replenishment of a vast far flung Sri Lankan social network. I still can’t accurately describe its dynamics. The best that I can say that it is spread over 4 continents and more countries than I prefer to track. Its big, complicated, and all the nodes know what’s going on with all the other nodes. The female nodes have an option on everything. The male nodes (the older, wiser ones – a group I don’t belong to) realise the sanity of not voicing any.
An unexpected trend that I have noticed after my absence is that this blog is now going entirely on non kottu.org traffic. Mainly direct traffic, with a mix of google searches and referrals. Never thought it would happen but a happy trend none the less.
