Rocket-fuel arrack on Tamil Thai Pongal Day
Ten hours of continuous travel brought me back to Kandy. Determined to make my own way back, I took a local bus to Peradeniya and paid the equivalent of a day’s wages for a tuk-tuk to Rob’s house. This was just as well, because there was no sign of Rob. Only John was there to greet me, still in his dressing gown.
Rob and Simon had gone to Colombo on a family visit as it was ‘Tamil Thai Pongal Day’.
“You what?” I said increduously: “We had Poya Day only last week!”
It turns out that living in a multi-religious society has its advantages, at least if you work in a government job. In Sri Lanka the festivals of all the major religions (Buddhist, Hindu and Muslim) are observed as well as Christmas day, (Easter being usurped by the Sri Lankan New Year). This year, one of the best months for bank holidays will be November when Deepavali (Hindu) falls on the 11th, followed by Id-ul-Fitr (Muslim) on the 14th and Il Poya (Buddhist) on the 26th. Thai Pongal is a Hindu harvest festival and celebration of thankgiving to the Sun God. It marks the first day of the Tamil month of Thai and is named after a rice pudding which is served on the occasion. It appeared that the Sinhalese celebrate it more ardently than the Tamils because I had seen no sign of festivities back on my trip.
There was not a drop in the house. John brightly told me that he had helped Rob polish off the last of the arrack and whisky last night.
“Oh really?” I grunted: “Whatever happened to your tee-totalism?”
There was a wounded silence from John. He had cut down on booze as a form of protest against my drinking habits. Personally, I thought he was a do-gooder and the others backed me when he had declined a whisky on New Year’s Eve. At least Rob was having a good influence on him.
After what had now amounted to a 12 hour journey, I needed a drink. So I walked down the hill in the pitch dark below the canopy of trees. Every time I stepped onto the verge to avoid on-coming traffic, I was haunted by visions of snakes. It took a long time to reach the strip of shops at the foot of the hill from where I took a bus to Peradeniya. Although alcohol was sold on Thai Pongal day, it was difficult to track down a supplier and I ended up buying a half-bottle of rocket-fuel grade arrack from the local Rest House at a greatly inflated price. I then waited 20 minutes for a bus from the campus back to Mahakande, along with about 50 other people. Several tuk-tuk drivers were waiting expectantly, but nobody took up their service. Apparently they were in the habit of ripping off local students and academics as well as foreigners. When a van pulled up after what seemed to be an eternity, I jumped on board with an expression that said I knew exactly where I was going. Incredibly, the thing actually went to Mahakande. It seemed to be a service for a specific group of students, but no questions were asked and my offer of payment was refused.
On the way back up the hill to the university quarters, I latched onto a young student who was going in the same direction pretending that I was not quite sure of the way. In fact I didn’t fancy walking alone, every rustle in the bushes made me jump out of my skin.
“Do you get many snakes here?” I asked in a quavering voice.
“Not by the road”, he assured me: “Traffic scares them away, you see? The vibrations.”
I told him about the 3m ratsnake skin I had found right here by the roadside just a few days ago. He started walking further away from the ledge.
After a while he asked: “Have you seen any wild boar?”
“No.”
“Good, because we definitely get them here!”
“Cheers!”
The young gentleman delivered me to the door of Rob’s house before waving goodnight and walking back further down the hill where he evidently lived.
John had been awaiting me eagerly; the women working in the house had re-appeared and prepared a delicious dinner. I was pleased that he was obviously well looked after. John is a very skinny guy (I have tried worming him, but nothing seems to help) so the matriarch had taken him under her wing. The table was overflowing with food. There was chicken curry, meat curry, peppers, paripoo (a kind of dhal usually served with rice and curry), polos pahi (jackfruit curry) and a mountain of rice. With a grateful smile, we dug in.
“So,” I said: “You have been sitting around in your dressing gown these past three days.”
“Oh, not at all”
And he animatedly told me about a trip he, Rob and Simon had made to Ratnapura.
“The city of gems!” I exclaimed enviously. A variety of precious stones, among them rubies and sapphires of unmatched quality, are mined around Ratnapura in the gravel beds of the Kalu Ganga. There are over 200 working mines in the area, complemented by a bustling gem market in the town selling a vast selection of stones, from raw to perfectly cut and polished. In addition, the region is famous for its views across the highlands and the lush vegetation found in the wettest part of Sri Lanka.
“So, did you see the gem mines?”
“Well — not quite.”
I should have known, after all John was with Rob so it was a work-outing. They had briefly stopped at the town office from where they were picked up by a jeep and driven straight to the municipal rubbish dump. Unplanned stacking of rubbish had caused the dump to spontaneously combust. Subsequently it had collapsed, taking down several houses with it and was now blocking the river. Rob had been asked to act as an expert witness in the forthcoming court trial.
“But the wildlife was amazing,” John said: “We saw three great big monitor lizards just a few feet from us. And hundreds of birds.”
“So, I guess it was a sort of eco-tour,” I concluded: “Or rather an ‘anti-eco-tour’ “.
Denni