And thanks to Paige for this one
I'd post more, but really, these images can only give a glimpse of life here. I'm really, really grateful for being able to come. Thanks for reading everyone!
On the bus ride home from Dewalegama, I was thinking about God, and Gods. I hope I don’t offend anyone with this post, and I hope no one thinks less of me for this, but… I believe Gods to be fictions. And yet they are fictions with such a powerful hold on the human psyche, and they recur in almost every culture (albeit with different names, faces, and biographies. Why? Because every God and Goddess is the embodiment of something transcendent in the human experience. LOVE. WAR. DESTRUCTION. PROTECTION. EARTH. DEATH. These are the things that scare us, sustain us, and above all mystify and amaze us. What is Divine, what is Power, what is Transcendent if the love of a mother for her child is not? What is miraculous if not life itself? What do we fear more than the ending of that life, this turning of animate and thinking to completely and irrevocably inert? This is the thing which animates the Gods, and what gives them power (in our minds). Their divinity comes from transcendental human experience. And that, I think is why Gods have such prevalence in societies, and persistence in our minds.
For those of you who have a philosophical bent, but haven’t seen the movie called “Waking Life,” I highly recommend it. In any case, one part of that movie is that the main character is never really sure if he is awake or dreaming. Regardless, he often encounters a stranger quite randomly, they connect and discuss some interesting philosophical topic, and then they part ways just as suddenly. I feel like I’ve had my own Waking Life encounters here. Especially when it comes to a certain young man I met last week. Coming back from Angampora class one evening, I was waiting on the bench for the train to come. When I look up, there are these two individuals sitting there next to me, and before I know it we’re engaged in conversation. The quieter of the two is the one that interested me most. He speaks very good English (as well as Tamil and Sinhala), and he has this way of speaking: clearly, simply, and without any tension in his voice. He seems just as likely to speak about ethnic tensions and politicians as about the age of the railway system or
Friday I had another encounter with the same person. I got off the train at Polgahawala, and he was there sitting on the bench again. Again, we met randomly and suddenly, had intermittent conversation about this and that, and parted ways just as suddenly when my train came.
I finally visited the Royal Botanical Gardens here in
My independent study is going really well! It’s just now beginning to open up for me, and it seems like a lot of things just sort of fall into my lap as far as research is concerned. At the beginning I didn’t think I could even find a teacher, and right at the beginning the librarian and my Sinhala teacher each found me one. I needed to do some interviews with my teacher as well as learning the art itself, and he spontaneously starts talking about the history of Angampora. I need a translator, and *poof*, there’s an English teacher in the room who just sort of steps in. My host family just happens to have relatives near where I have class. That family happens to have ancestors who did Angampora. My translator gets interested in Angampora and starts looking into it himself. Tons of happy coincidences that have really opened this topic up for me.
Its also really cool to gradually discover what the heck Angampora is. Right now, in
So, studying this has really been a blast.
Is a bit of a misnomer, since I don’t really give updates weekly. Regardless, if I were a biologist, I’d be sorely tempted to do my independent study on “The Bathroom Ecosystem” because it’s just fascinating.
There are the constants, like the line of small ants that is in constant motion around 3/4ths of my bathroom perimeter. Their path is reasonably constant, but small changes are made on a daily and an hourly basis. They always go past my towel rack and around the shower, but make only occasional forays across the toilet (and on these occasions I’m glad that as a man I don’t have to sit on the ant covered toilet). The other constants are tiny flies (that don’t fly around overmuch, and so aren’t a bother), and the spiders that hang out under my sink, at the base of the showerhead, and occasionally in other places around the bathroom. They have very small bodies, and long thin legs each about as long as a pinky finger. Luckily, the ants, flies, and spiders don’t bother me much at all. I usually leave them alone, and in return they usually let me use the toilet or the shower. It’s a great arrangement.
More interesting is the occasional visitors and temporary residents I get. The spider is the most infamous of these. He (or she) didn’t visit at all for the first month and a half, and then s/he decided that s/he REALLY liked my bathroom, and given the opportunity decided to make his/her self more comfortable in my room. I still haven’t seen him/her since those initial encounters, so I’ve decided to call my spider “Silence,” because as soon as I named it, it was gone. Other transient visitors include the centipede I stepped on (sorry!), the giant cockroach (which I only saw once), and the last couple of weeks I’ve had two giant slug/snails living in the bathroom (who I’ve named Chuck and Chucky). I say slug/snail because I’m not really sure which they are. They’ve certainly got something growing out of their backs, but it’s far from a fully developed shell. I think Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes once described slugs as “giant living boogers.” Well, like the ants, they don’t really bother me. They just cruise around the bathroom most of the time (ceiling, shower curtain, floor, wall, toilet bowl, etc.) Every once in awhile they shrivel up and just stick in one place for a few days. Strange, no?
The Cultist:
Buddhism is a strange and interesting religion, but one thing that it has going for it is that by and large there aren’t a lot of “fringe” sects (unless you count Mahayana Buddhism, but that’s being a little harsh, no?) Well, a couple of weeks ago we met a very controversial monk in
To be fair, I may be being a bit harsh in my description of this fellow. There’s a lot to be said for the mind healing the body. Belief that you’re being helped could improve your condition considerably. But this particular monk and his disciples seem to be deluding themselves, in my opinion. It’s shocking to me that an ordained monk would be so full of himself, and he told us how on one occasion he seriously considered murder as a perfectly viable option. Meeting him was an interesting experience.
In other news, my cut is healing very well. It's actually really amazing how the body can heal sometimes. There was one morning where I had a scarlet slash across my thumb, and by the afternoon, it was skin grown over most of it. Wow.
This Saturday I'm going to visit a possible independant study site. I'm thinking of doing Angampora, a traditional martial art native to Sri Lanka. It was banned during colonial rule, and was taught in secret during that time, and it has only recently resurfaced. I'm not quite sure what to think of it though. Some of the (very few) sites seem like it's a legitimate art, way of life, etc. Some sites seem like the people are caught up in their egos, trying to be manly men, and are only interested in who they can or cannot beat up. I guess I'll learn more soon. Could be really cool!
Sorry I haven’t updated in awhile. It’s because I’ve been having trouble logging into Blogger. That being the case, I’m not sure whether this will end up being posted as a blog or being sent around by the nice people I send it to.
Anyway, lots to say. This is only one of them. More as soon as I have time and a working technological infrastructure.
I finally got to see one of the big spiders here. It was in my bathroom, on the wall, behind the door. My reaction was to recoil, stare for awhile in facination/horror, then go get my camera (rather, Annie’s camera. Thank you Annie!). The spider, to his credit, was pretty chill about the whole thing, and was content to just sit there.
I took a few moments to put the camera on what seemed a correct setting (Pet: dark cat). When I entered the bathroom again, it was gone. Now…if there’s anything worse than seeing a giant spider on your wall, it’s not seeing a giant spider on your wall, when he was definitely there a second ago. I figured I’d used up my bravery quota for the day, and so I summoned my Appachi to find and get rid of it for me. He didn’t find it, so we assume that it left via the window.
Fine. Gone, and no worries. Except that he decided that he liked my bathroom, and decided to stay the night. That worked out okay. Again, he was very still. It was actually good in a way, because I had to stay up late and write a paper that night. Every time I started feeling tired, I opened up my bathroom door, stared at the spider for awhile, and I didn’t feel like going to sleep anymore.
In the morning, I looked around, and he was gone…or so it seems. I actually found him after some searching. Ask me to imitate it when I get back. My reaction was actually pretty hillarious. I didn’t scream, other than that my reaction was comparable to an 8 year old girl’s. Again, got my Appachi, who caught and removed it.
Now, for those of you who are thinking: “Removed? Why not kill it or flush it down the toilet?” First of all, buddhist country. No killing things if it can be helped. Second of all, these aren’t the sort of spiders you just step on. And flushing this spider would be comparable to flushing a chipmunk. It’s just not going to work out too well. In any case, Appachi removed it without incident.
One or two days later, I left my bathroom door open when I went to dinner (I usually keep it latched.) It seems that the spider likes my bathroom, but where he really wants to be is in my room. As soon as he saw the door was open, he must have booked it out of the bathroom, because when I got back from dinner he was chillin’ on the curtain that serves as a door to my room. “Appachi! I’ve got a visitor again! He’s got 8 legs and he’s really scary!”
It’s at this point that I learned the spiders have essentially 3 modes: Chill mode, where it’s motionless, Creepy Mode, where they do a slow, ominious crawl to where they want to go, and Freak Out Mode, where they go really fast. It’s at these last times that you realize that they don’t build webs. They chase their prey down, tackle it, and eat it. No idea what it is they eat though…
In any case, you’ve all got homework. I figure the only way this spider is going to be less threatening to me is if he has a name. Could be either a boy or a girl’s name. In any case, I’d feel better if I could gasp in surprise, then say admonishingly “Oh, it’s only you. Geeze Gary, don’t scare me like that.” Or “Shirly, you know you’re not allowed in the house. Get out of here before I have Appachi throw you out!” Or “Krogax, I call upon thee! Smite mine enemies!” Y’know. Whatever the situation calls for. So yeah, each of you needs to suggest a name for my “pet” spider. Classic, nutty, cute, epic, whatever you think it should be.
Today I skipped Buddhism (which I’m auiditing) so I can use the internet and update things. I’ve been super busy, and I don’t know when I the next opportunity will arise, so I figured now’s a good time. Tomorrow, we go to Nilambe for a meditation…thing. They’ll teach us how to meditate, have a discussion with us, and we’ll have lunch with them (the monks there). After that on Saturday, I’m going to Anuradapura again, this time with my family to do a hike. Sunday, I have to really buckle down and write my material culture paper. It’s due Monday and I haven’t started it yet. Busy busy busy.
Sumanasena is our driver, and he’s a damn good one. He also happens to be an insane 70 year old kid. These two factors combined the other day, when we were late for classes at the university. It was really like a rollercoaster ride…dodging around people and cars, going over bumps and around corners. He was in absolute control of his vehicle and in tune with his surroundings (I swear that man knows every road in
I’m getting such opportunities here in
I told you about the monk I met on the plane? Well, I finally got up the courage (and the time) to call him, and dropped by last night. I went with my family and spoke with him for awhile. He’s the head of his monastery, and apparently it’s quite rare for someone in his position to be able to speak English. And he’s willing, and happy to talk to me! That I happened to sit next to him on the plane, and that he happened to speak English, and that his monastery is in my area, and that I have the opportunity to speak with him is such a string of fortune that I can’t believe it. One of his disciples from
There’s a history course that I’m not taking, and apparently the prof wrote the book on
Our dance instructor and drum instructor are the best, or among the best, in their field.
Our material culture professor is friggin’ amazing as well. He’s been recovering from his surgery, but we’ve managed to have a couple of lectures with him, and he’s just been hurling fascinating facts and views at us, putting history, human sociological evolution, and technological innovation into whole new perspectives.
I could go on, but you get the idea. We’re getting individual attention from the giants of the scholasticism, the arts, religion, and all of the other fields we’re studying here. I feel incredibly lucky, and a little small. I’m a good student, but I’m not exceptional. I didn’t beat out 100 other applicants to be here. Yet I’m in the midst of such opportunities that I can’t even express my good fortune in any way other than simply describing the experiences and letting the experiences and opportunities speak for themselves.
This may be difficult post for some of you to read, since it deals with prejudice and children suffering as well as the goodness I’ve observed in
It’s said at Carleton that you can’t put people into neat little categories, and that they continually shatter the boxes that you put them in. That’s true here as well. Buddhism, the very same religion that frowns upon killing an ant, has also resulted in an ethno-religious war.
Just so, having this quality or that quality, this thought or that does not make people good or bad. To try to give you an idea of this, I’d like to tell you of the prejudice that exists here in
For starters, homosexuality is illegal here. Forget gay marriage, homosexuality itself is a criminal offence. In
Next, there’s the caste system. It’s not as extreme as in
This isn’t an easy problem to understand, either. Like racism in
And you know what? Nothing really excuses the prejudices held by most Sri Lankan people. There are plenty of social pressures and customs which explain it, but not excuse it in my eyes. But you know what else? It’s not the entire picture.
Let me tell you of my Nendamma (aunt), who I met with the day I write this. I’m not sure where to start, so I’ll just mention this and that in the hopes that I can eventually give you the whole picture:
I’m in awe of Nendamma. She meditates every day. Her eyes are large, dark and deep, such that I feel as though an ancient stone statue has opened its eyes and fixed me in its serene gaze. She volunteers often in social work, like counseling cancer patients and working at an orphanage for mentally and physically disabled children. Amma told me of that orphanage before. The children are caked in filth, under-nourished such that a 12 year old looks 5. Their neck muscles are sometimes not strong enough to lift their head, and they are so weak that they have to be carried from place to place. These children have never learned to smile, nor to show affection, and due to their handicaps they are prone to lashing out in fits of anger. When you carry them, they may urinate or defecate on you, simply because they have no control, or because they are not used to the kind contact. To volunteer at such a place is one of the most soul-breaking experiences I can imagine.
Nendamma didn’t tell me of any of this. She just mentioned that she was going to volunteer again soon at the disabled children’s orphanage. Having heard about this place from Amma, I remarked in Sinhalese that volunteering there is very difficult. She genuinely didn’t know what I meant. Amma explained, and Nendamma told me that it was not difficult; that to not volunteer, to do nothing would be difficult. For someone else this would seem like modesty, and like she was deflecting compliments…but Nendamma really meant it.
How do you reconcile such contrasts? Such good people with such petty prejudices? I don’t know my Nendamma’s ideas on race, caste, etc., but my Amma is the same sort of good person, who takes on not just her problems and concerns but that of her entire extended family; gives alms to the poor; still cries two years after the death of her father; has such a big heart that I can only observe her in awe.