The Black Australian Chapter - 4:

The Outsider

By Sunil GOVINNAGE

Compared to the Schipol airport in Amsterdam, the Katunayake terminal resembled a village fair Siri used to visit as a school boy. The only exception was the presence of army soldiers and policemen with vigilant eyes. Siri entered the immigration area, and jostled with others for a place in the queue. He spoke to the officer at the counter in Sinhala and he responded in English marked with a funny accent. Looking at Siri's Australian passport, the man told him that he could only stay in Sri Lanka, for thirty days. Siri did not bother to reply, but nodded his head in agreement.

"You can go to the counter for foreigners," the officer said politely.

Siri rushed to the customs area where there was a long queue filled with servant women returning from the Middle East. A Sri Lankan Customs Officer approached and asked the foreigners to follow him to another counter. Siri joined the foreigners. Upon seeing Siri in line, the officer looked at him and said in English that the queue was only meant for foreigners. He started walking towards Siri as he was the only black man among the white people, like a magpie among a flock of seagulls. Showing his passport, Siri asked angrily in Sinhala, "Is this good enough to be a foreigner?"

"Sir, you should have told me that you have an Australian passport, no?" the officer responded politely in Sri Lankan English.

The man tried to be friendly now and directed Siri to another counter where there were fewer foreigners. The officer started to talk to Siri, again in Sri Lankan English. After each sentence he paused.

"My niece study in Melbourne, Sir."

"O...h...h. Good."

"Australia, very rich country, no Sir?"

"Umm... Some people think so!"

"You know Melbourne, Sir? One day I'll go there, Sir."

"Umm... Good."

"You know Melbourne well, Sir?"

"No, I'm from Perth."

"Perth! Oh! close to Melbourne, no?"

Siri did not bother to give him a geography lesson on Australia.

"Sir, you can go now. We don't check foreigners' baggage, Sir. If we suspect them, we check! Please go to the exit gate, Sir. I'll see you again, Sir."

The man gazed at Siri as if he was a special agent from heaven. Siri's baggage grew heavy. Sam's overcoat had almost filled his hand luggage. He felt like throwing it out now, as it had no functional value in Sri Lanka. Walking into the outer lounge, Siri felt the warm humid air, heavy with black and brown dust particles, touching his face, like one old friend welcoming another. Outside the arrival lounge the sun was dancing on the equator. Siri kept his bag on the floor and looked around. While contemplating hiring a car, a new look tourist taxi approached and stopped in front of him.

"Sir, where do you want to go?" The driver asked in Sinhala.

"Kurunegala!"

"Kurunegala?"

"Yes, Kurunegala, Wehera, close to the town," replied Siri in Sinhala.

"Sir, it's a long trip. It will cost you..." the driver started calculating the fare for the journey.

"It doesn't matter. I've three thousand Rupees. They have no value to me because I can't use them where I live. Is that enough for the trip?" Said Siri in Sinhala and the driver continued his conversation in Sinhala. Siri felt relieved.

"More than enough, Sir. I'll give you a balance also," the driver replied.

With Siri and his bags safely in the taxi, the driver pulled out into traffic. By way of conversation, the driver asked, "Where do you come from, Sir?"

"Perth."

"Perth? Perth! It's in America, isn't it?"

"No, Australia."

"Oh, Australia! That's where the Melbourne Cricket Ground is. I know Melbourne. A distant relative of mine lives in Melbourne. When I save enough money to buy a ticket, I'll go to Melbourne." The driver sighed deeply.

"Sir, Australian cricket fellows gave us a hard time before the World Cup! Is that how they treat visitors? A friend of mine said the country is full of rogues, thieves and murderers who were sent there by the British some two hundred years ago. Is it true?"

"Yes! unless you are related to one of them, Australians don't treat you well," Siri lied.

The taxi entered the City of Negombo. Siri tried to recall the road to Maha Hunupitiya where his friend Piyal lived. Piyal used to write poetry and Siri wondered whether he was still engaged in that literary activity. He had liked some of Piyal's love poems. He tried to remember the girl's name for whom the poems had been written.

"Sir, then they must be giving you a hard time!"

Siri continued thinking of Piyal and their meeting through Mr. Gunasinghe, who used to work at Lake House.

"Why are you not talking, Sir?" the driver inquired. He continued anyway, "if there are problems from rogues and murderers, just one bomb, Sir! Patas... That's the end! I know it's against our religion, but what to do? That's what our politicians do now in Sri Lanka!" The driver switched into English and peered over at Siri, wondering why he was so quiet.

"Enemies... One bomb, Sir! Everything finish ..."

Siri did not want to get into another argument with a taxi driver, this time in Sri Lanka. Besides, the car was traversing narrow streets. Siri's interest in the scenery heightened as he tried to ignore the driver's ridiculous commentary and concentrated on the winding roads instead. The driver, however, skillfully navigated the vehicle and avoided pedestrians, cyclists, cats and dogs who shared the road with heavier traffic. It was nearly six o'clock in the evening when the taxi reached Siri's home in Kurunegala. The car turned onto the access road to Siri's house and made its way through the coconut plantation. An overpowering sense of the familiar washed over Siri as memories buried deep, like his blood and bones, rose up to greet him.

The taxi stopped in front of the gate. Siri gazed at the Araliya [1] trees in amongst the coconut palms which surrounded the house and made it look like a hermitage. Someone stepped out of the house and started towards the shrine in the far corner of the midula. [2] The dusk had begun to set in and Siri couldn't identify who it was. He wondered whether this was due to his failing eyesight. As the car inched towards the house, Siri recognised the figure in the shadows: it was his mother, praying to the God Vishnu. It was a routine for her every evening, after offering flowers to the Lord Buddha.

Hearing the sound of the car, she turned and recognised instantly her one and only son. She almost fainted when she saw him stepping out of the car.

"Mage Budu Hamuduru-wané. Ayi ada enawai kiyala dan-nu-we naththé?" ("Oh! my Lord Buddha! Why didn't you let us know that you were coming today."?) I've already asked udagedera punchi massina (3) to pick you up from the airport. We're waiting for a telegram informing us of the date and the time of your flight. I've been sending messages to the post-office three, four times a day. Why didn't you send a telegram?"

Without responding to his mother, Siri settled the fare and unloaded his baggage with the driver's help. Siri's mother waited a few minutes until the car moved away and said: "Why did you pay thousands of rupees hiring that car? What a waste of money! How much did it cost you?"

"I earn in Australian dollars, Amma. There are a lot of rupees to our Aussie dollar. It's good for our economy!"

Siri picked up his heavy travelling bag and the hand luggage the driver had left on the veranda. He moved them into the house, along with the bags full of gifts. In the lounge, he found the hansi putuwa [4] and sank down into it.

"Amma, bring me a glass of water. I'm very thirsty." Siri's mother brought him a glass of water on a tray, as he was a visitor to the house. It was more a gesture of respect and recognition that her son who now lived overseas. Siri tasted the fresh water collected and kept in a navum kalaya, (5) and realised he had not tasted good well water for nearly three years. Leaning back into the chair, Siri smelt the aroma of food cooking as it wafted in from the kussiya. (6) The aroma awakened a hunger in his belly. All the food and alcohol he had consumed on the plane seemed to vanish under the spell of the mingling scents.

"What have you cooked tonight?"

"Nothing much. Just some karawala (7) and parripu." (8)

"Can you make pol-sambol? (9) Why it's very hot here? Just as in April?"

"It has been like this for years. The climate has changed just like the country," Mother replied.

"I'm going to have a bath at kumbuk linda." (10) Siri responded.

"Ane puthe! [11] It is not good to have a bath at gomman yame!" (12) We should have completed the bathroom and installed the water pump. But no one else would use it. So I didn't do it as it was a waste of money."

"What else can I do?" Siri replied. "It's very hot."

"It's not good to go to the well alone at dusk. Demons will be on the prowl. You know that!"

"There are no more demons to prey on me. I've killed all of them during the last ten years in Australia. I think the few remaining ones are still in my office in Perth. I don't think that they would bother to follow me all the way to Sri Lanka!"

"Ane mage kata! Mononva kiwath, ahana ekak-yai. (A waste of my words, you never listen to me] Let me call Udagedara loku putha (13) to accompany you." Siri did not bother to respond. He felt sucked backwards in time when his mother spoke of demons going about in search of prey at dusk, a common folklore belief he had grown up with.

Demons! They are better than the bastards in Australia!

Walking into his room, he was shocked to discover that nothing had changed since his last visit to Sri Lanka two years ago. His mother had kept his room exactly as he had left it. He opened the wardrobe and picked up a sarong and a clean towel that had been ironed and folded neatly, along with his other old clothes. Closing the wardrobe, he noticed his image staring back at him from the mirror; expanding bald patch, remaining hair turning grey, and soon to turn white. The flabbiness of his body concerned him and he turned to compare the image in the mirror with that in his graduation photograph hanging on the wall.

How is it that I've become so flabby and unattractive over the last few years? Is it due to eating junk food, or lack of exercise?

Siri's mind turned to his failed marriage. He had married a Tamil woman, Rajini, an accountant from Melbourne, who was an exercise fanatic.

Did my marriage fail due to our totally different views on Sinhala - Tamil War in Sri Lanka? Was it due to lack of my love for Rajini? Because all the time Anula lived in my mind. Where's she now? Is she still in America with her doctor husband?

He reflected on his first and perhaps last love, Anula. He had met her at the University. He remembered their walks every afternoon in the botanical gardens of Peradeniya, and the long walks to the Hantanè hills on weekends. Still musing over these thoughts, Siri made his way to the back veranda and picked up a bathing bucket. He moved slowly further out into the darkness.

He saw the moon sitting over the coconut trees; the same moon he had watched floating over the Swan River for several years now. Siri walked through the coconut estate where he had spent a good part of his early teenage years after school and during holidays, except for the time he spent at Wesley College in Perth. He had spent ten months there on a scholarship in year ten.

Siri's parents had been schoolteachers, and consequently, the family had moved frequently. However, when Siri was fourteen years of age, the family settled down here and had stayed. Now passing the Araliya trees, he was reminded of the day he climbed one, lost his grip, and fell. He remembered the pain he endured afterwards, now simply a memory, unable to bring with it any physical or mental anguish.

How good it would be, if all the pains of life could pass like that!

Standing under a tree, he reflected on other childhood memories and waited, unaware that his fourteen year old nephew, Jagath, was already waiting to accompany him to the bathing well.

"Oh, Jagath putha! [14] I didn't see you. Achchi (15) is worried that a demon will attack me. I'm glad you came to accompany me to the well.

There's no one to do that in Australia."

"Do you have bathing wells in Australia too?"

"Yes, heaps. Every house has one! There's one next to my room in Perth," Siri laughed.

"How are you? I brought you a few gifts. They are all in my bag. I'll sort out things tonight."

Jagath's face remained stern.

"Uncle Siri, will you comeback home and work in Kurunegala again? We need more people in Sri Lanka because of the war!"

"Why? Do you want me to join the war?"

"Yes, if you can! You can build all the roads and bridges destroyed during the war." He paused, "Do you know Weerasena, the younger son of loku veda mama?"

"Yes, I know him well."

"He's gone!"

"Where? To the war?"

"No! He was killed last year. Bloody Tigers! They only brought back pieces of his body in a sealed coffin. Didn't Achchi write to you about that sad event?" Jagath's voice grew softer, but he continued, "Most of the villages around ours were shocked. But that didn't discourage young people joining the Army. I'll also join the Army. No, Air Force!"

"Why?"

"To rescue our country, our land and our religion! Why not? All the people cannot go and live in Australia. I want to be a flight lieutenant, so I can fly and bomb terrorist hide-outs!" Jagath paused and continued, "Will you return home, Uncle? You're not interested in rescuing Sri Lanka, are you? That's why you have left all of us and settled down in Australia. Will you comeback home again, Uncle?"

Siri looked at the boy and said nothing.

"You'll not comeback because you got married in Perth! Amma told us. A Tamil woman, she said! Is it true?"

"Do you believe that story? If I'm married, then I'd have come with her."

"How can you bring a Tamil woman here, Uncle? Will you comeback home?" Jagath asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know. 'Putha', I do visit here every day in my dreams. How can I forget my village, my people?" Siri paused for a moment and asked his nephew, "Why don't you come and stay with me for a year or two? I'll enroll you in a school there. You can decide later whether or not to join the Army."

"No, I can't. That's what happened to you! You got a scholarship and went to study in Australia. That's how you got to know Australia. No, I want to stay in Sri Lanka and save the country."

"Who gave you the idea that you should save our country?"

"We all know that! Don't you know the story of King Dutu Gamunu?" Jagath questioned. "No, I really don't know," Siri lied.

"Amma tells us stories about King Dutu Gamunu every night before we go to bed."

"Tell me one story."

"Prince Gamunu was the son of Princess Vihara Maha Devi, who was sent on a boat to rescue the country when Kelaniya was flooded. She ended up in the South, in Tissa. She got married to King Kavan Tissa who ruled the Southern Province, and gave birth to two princes. The eldest - Prince Gamunu - was a hero, but his brother Tissa was a timid person like their father, who didn't go to war to rescue the country from Tamils. Then, a Tamil king called Elara ruled the North and north-central regions, and the Sinhalese - the native Sri Lankans - were confined to the South and the Hill Country. One day, Prince Gamunu didn't come out from his room for breakfast and his mother went looking for him. The Prince was lying on the bed face down, legs up. Vihara Maha Devi asked, "Son, why are you not lying in the bed properly?"

"I'm trying to get some sleep as I didn't sleep at all last night. How can I sleep, Mother? I can't turn to the left or the right because of the mute Indian Ocean. I can't turn my head towards North because there are rogue Tamils who have captured our country."

"When are you going to sleep properly, Son?"

"The day I free my country, Mother!"

"Later, Prince Gamunu rescued the country and united the nation under one flag!"

"A good story! Who told you that Sinhalese were the natives of this country?"

"Everyone knows that!" Jagath replied angrily. "It's written in Maha Wamsa, the Great Chronicle."

"How do you know that it is a true story?"

"You say that because you don't love this country," retorted his nephew.

"I don't think the way your mother told the story is accurate either. I've heard a different version."

They walked in silence, walking through the small footpath towards the well at the end of the estate. The full moon was smiling in the sky. Siri watched as the moon crawled slowly over the village temple, across the paddy field and towards the school grounds. The moon was floating on the ela (16) as much as it floats on the Swan River, but on a smaller-scale.

Hundreds of tiny images danced on the water. The lazy creek pushed each image towards the river. The breeze from the hills brought fresh air and nostalgic memories.

Siri's reveries were interrupted abruptly, however, by a large rock as it hit the water and smashed the moonlit images into thousand of fragments.

"Jagath, what are you doing?"

"I'm practising my targets, Uncle! Never mind, my mistake," he said, smiling innocently. Upon his return to the house, Siri found that his mother had made two more curries in addition to the *pol-sambol* he had requested for dinner.

There were also several visitors waiting, including two of his younger sisters and their children. It was obvious that they had come to receive gifts, not to enquire about his life in Australia, as it was a daily ritual at the village to gossip and spread rumours about every aspect related to his life. Some of the children followed Siri from the veranda to his room, calling out to him, 'Australia mama!" (17)

"Can't you wait a little? Mama (18) has come all the way from the other side of the world, and he's hungry and tired. Why don't you allow Mama to have his dinner?" Siri's mother frowned at her daughters and grandchildren.

After dinner, Siri distributed some sweets he had bought in Amsterdam and then gave the gifts he had purchased for his sisters and mother. Later that evening, Siri walked out onto the front verandah and looked up at the moon, fading into the night. Returning to his room, he scribbled down a few lines of poetry in Sinhala.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Araliya - Frangipani

[2] Midula - The Sinhala word for the front garden.

[3] Udagedera punchi massina - The younger brother in-law of the house on the top.

[4] Hansi Putuwa - A comfort chair

[5] Navum kalaya - A fresh clay-pot.

[6] Kussiya - Kitchen.

[7] Karawala - Dried-fish.

[8] Parippu - Lentil curry.

[9] Sambola - Grated coconut mixed with chillies, lemon and dried fish.

[10] Kumbuk Linda - The bathing well under a Kumbuk tree.

[11] Ane Puthe - Oh, Son!"

[12] Gomman yame - The dusk

[13] Udagedara loku putha - The elder grandson who lives on the house on the top

[14] Putha - The Sinhala word for son

[15] Achchi - The Sinhala word for grandmother

[16] Ela - The Sinhala word for stream

[17] Australia mama - The uncle from Australia

[18] Mama - The Sinhala word for uncle