Mist

By Dr. Siri Galhenage

The tourist coach crossed the valley on a winding road, headed towards the hotel which loomed high on the mist- clad mountains. On either side of the road vast expanses of tea plantations stretched over the undulating hills, forming shades of green.

The coach was carrying a group of Australians, two of whom were expatriate Sri Lankans, Nalin and his wife, Nilmini. The couple visited Sri Lanka often, but this trip was different; on this occasion they brought their closest friends to tour their homeland.

As the coach ascended along the narrow road, estate workers on foot leaned on the fence to give way to the coach. Little children waved at the foreigners. The coach came to an abrupt halt at the request of Cynthia, who shouted, "look tea pluckers! What a beautiful sight. It's better than what you see on a picture postcard". They all got down to capture the scene in their cameras. A group of women clad in multi-coloured saris were busy picking the tender shoots of tea and throwing them over their shoulders into cane baskets carried on their backs, oblivious to the sudden intrusion. After enjoying the tea-scented cool breeze that swept across the valley they continued their journey. "I could do with a nice cup of tea", said Stan, the English-born Australian. "No problem...that could be arranged", said Rodney, their guide, as the coach approached the hotel.

The group was greeted at the entrance by the hotel manager who hurriedly ordered the unloading of baggage. In the comfort of the foyer they enjoyed the 'welcome drinks'. Stan got his cup of tea. "Ah.....what a lovely brew", said he, dropping the cup on the saucer. "Of course, the best tea in the world", remarked Nalin, patting Stan on his back. As they strolled around, awaiting the allocation of rooms, they paid tribute to the architect who had transformed this massive tea factory into a luxury hotel. Pictures of various stages in the processing of tea, from plucking to packaging, adorned the walls. A large wheel from old machinery, which rotated around an axel, hung high up in the atrium, tastefully added to the décor. Nalin gazed at it in awe, his thoughts switching to a past of sweat and toil. "I will tell all of you about tea tonight over a gin and tonic", said Rodney, as the porters picked up the baggage to take them to their rooms.

After sending off the porter, who hung around scratching his head, expecting a tip, Nalin and Nilmini admired their well appointed room. "How much did you give him?" asked Nilmini. "Hundred Rupees", said Nalin. "Isn't that too much?" "It's only a dollar, God's sake", retorted Nalin, not wishing to be distracted from the breathtaking landscape". "I think we got the best view", said Nalin. He gazed into the verdant hills that rolled down the valley into a small village at its depth, with numerous bitumen tracks converging on it. "It's like a Lowry painting", he said, looking at the people and houses, appearing in miniature. The dome of a Hindu temple was visible at the edge of the village. As he sat at the window in contemplation, a veil of mist was drawn across his path of vision.

"What a beautiful country we left behind", said Nalin, looking through the view finder of his camera. "You say that every time we visit Sri Lanka", remarked Nilmini, re-doing her make-up at the dressing table. She then threw herself on the bed like a little girl on a trampoline. "This is bliss", said she, closing her eyes. "I can't believe I am lying in a place where they spread tea leaves to dry".

"Let's order some room service", said Nilmini, impulsively, picking up the menu and the bedside telephone. "I could do with some afternoon tea". "I'll have the same", joined in Nalin. While you give the order, I'll pop out and see whether our friends are settled".

As arranged the group met for pre-dinner drinks. Alcohol flowed freely. The conversation was all about tea. "Do you know how tea was discovered?" asked Rodney, starting the conversation, dropping a few blocks of ice in his glass. "The legend goes that when Emperor Shen-Nung of ancient China was boiling water before drinking, a tea leaf flying off its stem fell into it. He liked the aroma and the flavour of his drink". "So how was it introduced to Ceylon ...pardon me Sri Lanka now", asked Jan. "Well in the mid eighteen-hundreds, a Scottish planter called James Taylor made the first commercial planting in this country", replied Rodney , authoritatively. "So we Scots have made a significant contribution to Ceylon, then", said Andy imitating his Scottish accent and holding a bottle of Black Label in his hand. "Yes, that was the start of a major industry... and it has made a vital contribution to our economy", said Rodney in a serious tone-"especially after our coffee plantations were devastated by the blight". "It's a major source of our Government revenue". "Just less than two hundred thousand hectares are cultivated now, making us one of the three major tea producing countries in the world". "But at a cost", sniped Nilmini. "What do you mean?" asked Rodney. "They cleared the rainforest to plant tea-total deforestation, and that's not all, they displaced the up-country Sinhalese, and created a landless peasantry".

"Alcohol is beginning to work", whispered Bryn into Nalin's ear.

"Didn't the locals seek employment in the plantations?" asked Stan. "No they were small scale farmers; self-sufficient; living in small communities, helping each other; proud people who found it degrading to work for a wage", replied Nilmini.

"This is why the British had to bring in workers from South India; they were very poor, but hard working people". "What you see is their sweat and toil", Joined in Nalin. At this stage Rodney got up from his seat: "it's time for dinner, alcohol and politics don't mix well". "Wise man, our guide", said Jan.

As the group entered the dining room, they were overwhelmed by the wide array of food on the buffet table, prepared to delight the eye and the palate, equally. "What a spread". "It's a feast for a monarch". "Let's tuck in".

Waiters making friendly gestures rushed around under the watchful eye of the catering manger, who paced the dining room floor with his hands clasped. The head chef, a burley man full of smiles, in clean culinary attire, made brief appearances, receiving complements for his culinary skill. The aroma of the unique blend of herbs and spices filled the air. A piano sonata played in the background was buried in the clatter of crockery. The guests with plates in hand buzzed around like a swarm of bees over fresh bloom in spring.

"Try the samba rice", said Nilmini, pointing to the pearly grain. "Will the devilled prawns be too hot", asked Deborah. "I might try the Tandoori Chicken instead". "This Sear fish curry is mild, Madam, said the waiter. "I never thought you made a curry with cashew nuts", said Jan. "It's a favourite dish in Sri Lanka, madam; shall I serve you some?" You should also try the local vegetables-Okra, Tiger Beans, Bitter Gourd". "This potato mustard looks too good, I am not going to worry about my waist", said Cynthia. "We also have cold meats and sausages, if you do not like too much spice, madam". "Do you think we came all the way to Siri Lanka to eat sausages?" quipped Jan, laughing, giving a friendly tap on the young waiter's shoulder. "Don't forget we have all the desserts to get through: Fruit salad, Ice cream, Watalappam, cheesecakes and mousse", said Nalin, as he walked to the table, with his plate heaped up. "You should taste a bit of each". As they sat, the waiter filled their glasses with Chardonnay, West Australian of Course!

"I am going to use my fingers to eat ", said Nalin. The waiter who stood by ran to get a 'finger bowl'. "That's the best way to enjoy Sri Lankan food". "I shall join you", said Jan.

On request the pianist played "Waltzing Matilda". After coffee, a band played, and the guests were invited to the dance floor. Nalin insisted on closing the evening with baila; the guests displaying an array of movements.

Next morning, at breakfast, the group was tempted to a repeat indulgence. They preferred the local cuisine - milk rice, hoppers, string hoppers, etc. -to a continental breakfast.

On returning to their room, Nalin kept gazing through the window towards the slopes while Nilmini got into bed with a book. Nalin commented that the picturesque village at the bottom of the valley was not visible, once again covered with a thick blanket of mist. "I'd like to walk down to the village this evening, talk to the locals, and take a few photographs; would you like to join me?" "That's not a bad idea", said Nilmini "I could do with some exercise, I need to burn some calories".

In the afternoon the couple embarked on a slow walk to the village; Nalin armed with his camera. They strolled along a narrow and winding path that descended between tea bushes. The path was eroded in places. They gave way to several bare-chested men carrying sacks of cow manure on their shoulders. As the couple approached the village, they paused to watch men toiling away in their vegetable plots. "Looks like they are growing beetroot and leek", said Nilmini. "This must be their second job to supplement their income", said Nalin, as the workers gradually became silhouetted against the fading sun.

Children played nearby. Two girls ran to the couple and watched with amusement. They looked unkempt with matted hair, their dresses mud stained. They followed the couple and chuckled along the way. "What is your name?" asked Nilmini, exercising her limited vocabulary in Tamil. "Letchimi", replied the elder girl. "What about you?" she asked the other.

"Rani", she replied, covering her face with her hand. They chuckled. As they walked, Letchimi shouted "Amma", pointing to a young woman in a red cotton saree carrying an aluminium pot of water on her head. She unloaded her burden at her doorstep, and greeted the couple. The girls prompted their mother to introduce herself, "Rajeswari". They all giggled.

Rajeswari's home was a shack set against a slope. Four walls made of wooden planks held up rusty corrugated iron sheets to give her shelter. A few rocks sat on the roof to prevent the sheets being blown away, and wads of hay tucked in between the sheets was intended to prevent rain water from seeping through.

She invited the couple in. They trod carefully over a damp floor. An unlit kerosene lamp stood on a wooden stool beside a square gap in the wall. Three folded mats sat on a metal trunk at the opposite end of the room. Beyond a partition was a fireplace." What's for dinner", asked Nilmini in Sinhalese, as she peeped into the 'kitchen'. "Rice with bean and pumpkin curry", replied Rajeswari. The girls giggled. "When does your husband come home?" asked Nilmini. "I have no husband; he went looking for work in Colombo when the girls were small; he never came back". Her face dimmed as the waning light outside. Nalin was feeling uncomfortable. After placing some money in her hand, they made a hasty exit.

The couple walked across the village passing other shacks not dissimilar to Rajeswari's. Fire places were seen lit up as women were getting ready to prepare their evening meal. Men, after a hard day's work were washing off their sweat and mud under a communal tap. Nalin and Nilmini hastened their steps jumping over puddles of water as they walked. A cool breeze swept across the village, carrying with it the odour of cow manure.

As the couple approached the edge of the village, the Hindu Kovil stood commandingly in front of them; the dome of the holy shrine adorned with images of many gods. They paused at the entrance. The bells pealed, the incense burned, and garlands of flowers lay across the altar.

A bare-chested Pusari clad in clean white cotton recited the scripts in a trance. An old woman sat quietly and prayed. A young boy and a girl sat beside her with their arms stretched towards the altar.

As the couple made their return trek to the hill-top, the silvery towers of the hotel glittered above the darkness like a celestial abode.

The mist had cleared. "I am going to have an early night", said Nalin on returning to their room, and throwing himself on his bed. His camera lay beside him, still in its case.