The Deep End

177 days

2010-03-08T00:08:00.000+05:30

I was checking my email tonight before crawling into bed for what will be my last night in Sri Lanka; suddenly a little Mac dialogue box popped up from the corner of my screen informing me that I have not backed up my computer in 177 days.

I left my backup hard drive in Toronto after backing up my computer just before hopping aboard the plane that would wisk me away to first international adventure. Apparently, that was 177 days ago.

When I was about 100 days (4ish months) in, I was convinced I wouldn't last a week longer. Somewhere around that time I remember actually taking out a calendar and counting down how many days I had until I flew out. I laugh now, to think about how quickly those days have vanished. It is funny to think about: one day time seems to drag on, threatening to slip into reverse for its seeming lack of momentum. And then: BOOM! Its over. I am at the finish. The adventure has concluded.

The dichotomy of those feelings quite accurately expresses a lot about my time here. Time has been a drag, time has been a blur. One moment loving it, another moment hating it. One event teaches me some of the most profound things I have ever been taught, another event has torn it all apart in little pieces and left my utterly confused. But in all these things, time has moved on. In all things, I have progressed. My emotions have swung to the limits of the pendulum's swing and everywhere in between, but I can still say that it has been good - not always easy, but always good. 177 days on the complete opposite side of the world, 35 000 km from home has ROCKED my world. I have often thought about the ridiculous nature of this self-imposed adventure: to discover the intricacies of my own culture by experiencing a culture miles away (figuratively and literally) from my own. That was the entire goal! And I was going to achieve it by simply living with a family - that was my entire plan! In hindsight, I was completely unprepared and incredibly naive. But, I have seen God's goodness and grace in the amazing ways he has protected me and taught me while I embarked on this ridiculous quest. I guess its a minor miracle (if miracles can be classified as minor) that I did make it through these 177 days!

Praise the Lord for his goodness! Day 178: Back to Canada....

T minus

2010-03-03T13:07:00.000+05:30

India has come and gone and now the countdown has begun.

5 full days left in Sri Lanka.

India was truly amazing. Challenging, stinky, and overall - completely enthralling. The poverty of India hit me like a slow motion left hook: you know it's coming but you have no idea how much it will actually hurt until WHAM you're sitting flat on your butt wondering what to do about it. It is difficult to put words to the poverty that exists there. It is absolutely everywhere. It is even more difficult to know what to do about it: the locals tell you not to give money, the tourists tell you that you're just training them not to work, and, even if you do give - their is an endless stream of beggars, how do you give to them all? I don't know the answer. It seemed like my thoughts on the situation changed every time I met a beggar, which was about every two minutes. I've worked with the poor at home in Lethbridge, but that seemed more useful because it was long term and involved building relationships, and I definitely saw the benefit of that approach. I know that just dropping a few coins into a beggar's lap will not do much for long term change, and maybe I am just contributing to the problem by doing so. Maybe the itinerant traveler should just walk away if he is not going to take the time to make lasting change...but my heart still ached every time I walked away from a man with no legs, or a naked child sitting in his own filth (literally) by the side of the road.

I am still processing all these thoughts in the midst of processing the reality of my Asian journey coming to a close. I am busy saying goodbye to people. It is the first time I have been busy since being here, and it is probably for the best - it allows me to ignore the fact that I may never see these people again. I would like to think I will, but I am also keenly aware of the fact that this is not an opportunity I am given every day.

But, for now, I will fill my days with goodbye suppers and farewell parties. The suppression of the reality of the situation will have to wait until I get back to Canada before I release it. And I am sure that release will be forceful and palpable, prompting an entirely new raft of emotions and feelings as I re-adjust to the culture I grew up in.

See you in Canada!

off to India

2010-02-01T08:50:00.000+05:30

Much to the dissapointment of the people in Sri Lanka who have now become my family away from home, I am heading to India for three weeks. After giving me a perplexing look which translates to something like, "Why would you ever want to leave Sri Lanka?" they are usually somewhat appeased when I tell them I will be back. This trip marks what has started to become a mental "beginning of the end" of my asian adventure. Once I get back from India, I will have a week and a half in Sri Lanka before I fly back to Canada on the 9th of March.

As for India, it is kind of an extension of what I have been doing here. Another chance to see a different culture and observe the role that religion has in the lives of its people. India is a much more religiously diverse country and the Hindu dominated majority will definitely give me a different experience than Buddhist dominated Sri Lanka. I will be using the trains extensively to get a pretty diverse cross-section of Indian culture in the Northern part of the country. I am trying to hit up some of the major religious cities to see what makes its inhabitants tick. Lots of train time, but hopefully I meet some interesting characters on the long rides!

Hopefully I will find some time at an internet shop somewhere in India to give you a little update of how India is shaping me, but if not, I will hit you with a post in three weeks!

Please clearly mark "X" beside the candidate of your choice

2010-01-26T23:11:00.000+05:30

Elections.
The thought of elections usually brings feelings of boredom and drudgery to my mind. The only interest which they garner in me is the chance of polishing arguments with my sister of why I didn't bother to vote.

But that was before I came to live in a nation where national elections create an atmosphere so thick with politics that at times it is hard to tell whether you're breathing in air or propaganda. You may not know it, but today is the day of Sri Lanka's 6th Presidntial election. As I write this, the votes are being furiously counted, with millions of Sri Lankans waiting with fingers crossed, incense burning and breath held to hear the final verdict. By the time you read this, you can probably head over to Google and find out the results for yourself.

With Sri Lanka's recent history of violence and newly achieved peace, the results of this election are monumental and of great historical significance for this tiny island. I am guessing that the importance of this election will earn it enough clout to make International news: probably a ten second, maybe fifteen second slot at the beginning of the newscast to fill time while they tantalize you with snipits of the more exciting news that will keep you watching till the end of the broadcast. I was thinking today about the countless news items I have watched that parallel this exact event: "Unimportant, tiny third world country elects new President!" I barely took notice. But now, living here during one of these elections has opened my eyes to the incredible struggle it is to achieve democratic, peaceful, fair elections.

Ever since President Mahinda Rajapaksa (famous as the President who ended the 25 year war with the LTTE Tiger terrorist army) declared in late November that he was holding an election to seek another term in office, the country has been ablaze with outrageous propaganda and zealous campaigning. Everyone is entranced by the election: the unemployed school dropouts who follow the armored, police guarded vehicles of high rank politicians, showing their support by lighting firecrackers that explode at gunshot decibel; the poor farmers who ditch out on their daily duties to consume the free liquor provided by the political party which is holding a public address rally in their town; the dedicated shopkeepers who religiously paste posters of their preferred candidate all over the city on their way home from work, defacing the posters of rival candidates as they go; even children benefit - the president has declared (only last week) three days of national holidays surrounding the election day, which means shops and schools have been deserted while people flock to the nearest television set to take in the latest political mudslinging (the mudslinging is actually quite comical: some politicians rewrite lyrics of pop songs to malign their opponents, others prefer kindergarten-name-calling tactics - the most popular of these being "dog" and "monkey") that has run incessantly on every news channel since November. In fact, I don't think I have heard one news story since the election campaigns started that doesn't relate to the election in some way - not even one!

Everyone seems to hold intense loyalty towards one of the twenty presidential candidates (though it is really a two-horse race between Rajapaksa and retired General Sarath Fonseka - a national hero for his command of the army to end the war against the terrorist Tigers). Party loyalty is stubbornly clung to and, if needed, defended. Countless clashes have broke out when civillian groups of zealous supporters march through the streets of their towns, employing loud speakers and noise makers to rile up their political opponents. These actions are invariably countered by another party, often resulting in violent altercations. Unofficially, there have been four deaths, twelve shootings and hundreds of injuries due to political violence since November.

It is truly a miracle that there was no violence today on voting day (at least none that was reported: all media is government censored to some degree). Tomorrow might be a different story.

It is indeed bizarre to be living in one of those little ten second news clips that no one pays attention to. There is a lot more that goes on than "the winner is...." Elections will surely take on a new meaning for me the next time that I am fortunate enough to participate in one.

Maybe, to the delight of my sister, I might even vote next time.

Service Aversion

2010-01-01T17:59:00.001+05:30

I am entirely aware that my blogging consistency has been lacking as of late. My family has begun to leave gentle hints on my blog, disguised as comments, goading me to get my butt back in blogging mode. I suppose their desire to hear something from me is completely warranted since it is my first Christmas away from home. Please accept my deepest apologies in regards to my absence from blog land.
Christmas away from home has given me much food for thought. The differences in celebrations have definitely caused me to think. But it wasn't the thought of missing the typical Christmas feast that set my mind a'wandering. Nor was it the lack of snow or sub-zero temperatures that caused me to ponder so deeply. And though being away from my family has caused me to realize my love for them on a heightened level, my absence from them is not what has challenged me most during the Christmas season in Sri Lanka.

The catalyst has been...tea.

After a Christmas morning church service I travelled with my Sri Lankan family to the island's hill country, where tea bushes cling to every butte, bank and bluff as far as the eye can see. We were headed to the Senior Manager's Bungalow of Bogawana Tea Estate. One of the members of our church is the Manager of this estate (they call them "planters." I thought it was interesting to note the extreme dichotomy between the lifestyles of this planter and myself, a Canadian "planter") and had invited us and another family to share Christmas at the estate with them from the 25th to the 27th.

The gradually decreasing temperature made it easy to gauge how high we were climbing into the hills, but I failed to comprehend the just how far we were travelling back in time as we rounded each bend towards the plantation. The Colonial British era is not very difficult to imagine while in the plantations of Sri Lanka. Mostly, because much of that era is still alive. The most vivid reminder is in the centuries old estate bungalow in which we stayed. But not the bungalow's physical features, rather, in the traditions that have been upheld there since it held the first British planters. Particularly, servants. The bungalow has three full time servants who come sprinting (literally) when any one of the several bells that hang from the roof are rung. One of them would wake me up every morning by lightly knocking on my door to herald the arrival of my morning cup of scalding-hot fresh tea. He would then open my blinds, and at some point throughout the day would slip back into my room to draw the blinds again before I bed down for the night. The magnificent garden is maintained by six full time gardeners who politely remove their caps every time the estate owner passes by.

Servants are a regular part of life in Sri Lanka. It seems that most middle class houses have someone to help out, whether that be a gardner or a cook or maid of some sort. So it is not that I haven't experienced the whole "servant" thing before, I just hadn't experienced it to this degree. The experience of having someone wait on me hand and foot made me realize with dazzling clarity that I despise being served:

I am uncomfortable when the servant comes scampering from the next room to dish my food when it is only an arms length from me. I cringe when the gardener who works at our house, a man who I am guessing is in his sixties, calls me "sir." I feel thankless and rude when I leave my dishes on the table for someone else to clean up. Every part of me feels as though being served like this is wrong. But, it's not necessarily wrong (I have no reason to believe that servants are treated poorly or paid unfairly), it's just different. It's difference grates me so much though. It perturbs me because service absolutely flies in the face of the independence that I have been exercising since I took the training wheels off my bicycle.

That may not seem like a very profound statement to you, but (since most of you who read this are North Americans) it has vast implications for those who live in culture where we avoid help like the plague: We don't ask for directions though we are hopelessly lost; we politely tell the shoe salesman "I'm just looking," so that he will leave us alone as we stare at the wall of shoes in front of us, desperately in need of assistance but too autonomous to ask for it; we always choose the "Self-serve" gas stations so that we know we will be getting exactly what we paid for. Self-serve doesn't even exist here. I am starting to believe that we smother a significant part of our lives and souls by stubbornly clinging to our independence. The choke hold is applied at a young age, teaching children to provide for themselves and their futures, to chase the "[north] American dream" of success, and, held consistently through teenage years and into adult life, that hold (arguably) kills our souls entirely.

Perhaps this is why the greater majority of North Americans don't believe in any god. Why serve a god, or submit to the servitude of a god (especially the gracious servitude of a God who longs to bless us), when we ourselves have rejected service since our youth? The very concept of religion is that there is someone/something else that is bigger than ourselves, something greater than ourselves, to whom submission (lordship, reverence, allegiance, etc.) is due. To allow such a thought to take root in our lives we would first need to be convinced that we are people who are "wired" for submission to the service of others. I believe there is a direct correlation between the profusion of "servant" jobs in Sri Lanka and the fact that everyone believes in some sort of deity.

By fiercely clinging to our independence, and passing that ferocity on to the next generation we are essentially teaching them not to believe in God. If from childhood they are taught to believe in themselves as opposed to depend on the help, kindness and tutelage of others, every fiber in their bodies becomes attuned to autonomy and subsequently opposed to dependency - the essential ingredient in realizing our need for a Saviour and the imperative role of God.

Independence is indeed a great tool that can be used for good, to accomplish extraordinary things in the world. But I am realizing, in my own life anyway, the great hindrance that independence can be to trust and understand a God who thrives on dependency.

Dependency. Like a child, helpless in this world but for the care of its mother. A child, living in a state of constant service, a full recipient of all the benefits of being served.

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

Steward?

2009-12-06T14:01:00.001+05:30

I was watching TV with some of the boys that I teach drum lessons to and this map of the world came on the screen and they shouted, "Look there's Sri Lanka!" demonstrating the innate pride in their country that bursts forth out of every pore of each Sri Lankan that occupies this little island. I pointed Canada out to them, and realized, "Dang, I'm a long ways from home!"
So I was interested today to see how far I am from home, so I headed over to google and was gloriously sidetreacked by a website that informed me that during my journey from Lethbridge to Kandy, I created approximately 1.43 tonnes (3, 152 lbs) of carbon dioxide equivalents. Wowzas! This should probably alarm me, but it doesn't. Does it make me a bad person if I say that I'm not too worried about it?
It would be very easy for me to become all super concerned about the environment as I am over here: every day my nostrils are overwhelmed with pungent odor of the small fires in front of people's homes in which they burn plastics and household garbage. The shores of picturesque rivers are littered with myriad plastic bags and other refuse. Garbage cans are scarce, just throw it on the street instead.
Yet, I don't seem to care. I didn't care in Canada either. I think I would be foolish to think that the pollution ocurring here is on a greater scale than that of North America, it is likely just more visible.
Maybe my apathy towards this stems from the seemingly unassailable level of pollution and creation-rape. We pollute at an alarming rate. In light of how much garbage our world produces, does it even matter if I recycle my Fanta Soda bottle rather than burn it on the side of the road?

Maybe my apathy is appeased by my false perception that I "save the earth" by planting trees every summer.
Or maybe my lack of concern is indicative of a lack of understanding of God's love. Do I see this earth as a gift from God? A gift born not of compulsion or of obligation but of love. He gave us a sweet world just because He loves us and wanted us to have a good gift. Hmm.

But I don't care.

I can't seem to wrap my head around my apathy. Maybe apathy is the wrong word. I am concerned; but my concern lacks the potency to compel me to do anything about it. Concern and conviction isn't something you can just muster up, or fake, it has to grip you/take hold of you with such force that you can't NOT be concerned. I don't seem to possess this conviction...which frustrates me.

Frustration quite often motivates me to try and accomplish things/conquer things/change. I would love it if the frustration over my evident lack of concern for the environment would affect some sort of change.

Picture this...

2009-11-24T19:58:00.005+05:30

From what I understand from reading the blogs of other people, there comes a point in every blogger's "career" where passion either wanes or material runs dry and so ensues the obligatory "picture blog." Don't worry, my passion and inspiration for writing haven't shriveled up and died in the Sri Lankan sun; I guess the time is just right to let the pictures do the talking. Enjoy!

Some of the scenery in and around Kandy/tea plantation/one of the many huge buddhas that sit high up on the hills

My surfing trip to the beautiful, sleepy town of Arugam Bay

Some of the neighborhood kids/my Sri Lankan family/ my first coconut

Boys dorm at Home of Hope/Home of Hope Kids

Lion guarding ancient ruins at Pollonaruwa/motorbikes: room for the whole family/somehow I managed to sneak into a Buddhist wedding...

I guess to see the rest of my pics you will just have to come visit me when I come back to Canada in March! Yes...March...I got my visa extended last week, so it is official: no snow for Christmas :(

Unwound

2009-11-10T21:25:00.004+05:30

Two weeks since my last post. So much learned. Where to begin.

My life currently occupies this weird space where busyness and relaxation collide. I have done a fair amount of traveling and trekking as of late: a surfing trip to Arugam Bay on the East coast; attending a Buddhist wedding of the brother of a friend of a friend (an all day affair at a beautiful waterfall bordered reception hall); another stint at the children's home; a spur of the moment jaunt halfway across the island to buy a washing machine; short little visits here and there involving lots of commuting which has allowed me the opportunity to view much of the landscape of this beautiful country. Some of my treks have also afforded me the glorious experience of navigating the Sri Lankan bus system - a hilarious mix of chaos and seemingly impossible efficiency. This has created a busy shuffle from place to place, never really getting set in one place before I am up and leaving for another. But when I am in these places, I mostly spend my time not doing too much, which, as I have alluded to in other posts, is rather normal.

By no means am I implying that Sri Lankans don't do anything - they just do things at a different pace. Things get done, but without the stress.

This new pace has forced me to totally revamp....myself...I guess. Everything that made me a "valuable" person in North America - hard-working, efficient, self-motivated, independant - are essentially useless characteristics here. A rather depressing thought when much of your self-worth has been placed in your own skills and accomplishment. So, while I have frantically sought ways to make myself "useful," buzzing here and there under the guise of helping others, I realized I was only making things harder for myself by struggling so hard against that pattern of life that has been set here for ages. So, against my better judgement and nature, I have chilled out...alot.

It has taken concerted effort to chill out. But I honestly don't have a choice. I would wear myself out if I kept swimming against the current. I think this is a good instance in which it is perfectly OK and right to just go with the flow. The flow has caused me to loosen my grip on certain things formerly held with vise fists. Like efficiency. Independance. Multi-tasking. Who knows if these things will regain the importance they once held. Some of you may be reading this thinking, "Oh no, Dave is seriously loosing it over there!" Maybe. I will probably receive a huge jolt and transitioning pain when I come back to North America. But for now I am enjoying being unwound. Unwound to the point where I think I might even be starting to wind back up in the complete opposite direction that I have been coiled all these years. It is intriguing to think that the way you live your life may have a polar opposite twin, and the only reason that your life is lived on one end as opposed to the other is largely dependant on where/when/how/and with whom you have grown up. Every event and life scenario in which we find ourself has the ability to change and tweak the way we view the world, tightening or loosening the coil that we have wound around the central worldview that shapes who we are. I feel frightenly close to that nucleus, wondering if somehow the whole thing will come undone if my preconceptions of the world are unravelled any further. But I am equally curious to see what the "other side" is like; that maybe I can get a taste of how my mind and life and worldview would be alternately formed if I would have grown up my whole life in a culture like this. Not that any culture is better than any other, but that each is distinct, and distinctly able to change and rearrange how one thinks. And so I continue to unwind.

Revisited

2009-10-24T19:01:00.004+05:30

I just came back from a wonderful visit to Home of Hope, a children's home in the area. Most of my days were spent playing guitar (I am attempting to teach myself while I am here: I have 6 chords down!), reading, and waiting for the children to get home from school. Then the fun begins. The smallest girls seem oblivious to my obvious deficiency in speaking their language, laughing and giggling at me in Tamil, or Sinhala, I still can't tell the difference. I am slightly worried that, while playing with them in the playground, on the swing sets, they are screaming at me, "Stop pushing me! I am too high! I am scared of heights! I am peeing my pants!" to which I respond with my usual smile-as-big-as-I-can-because-I-don't-have-any-clue-what-you-are-saying and pray that I am not scarring these children for life.

This home's location in rural Sri Lanka afforded me the opportunity to become a little more acquainted with the insect/reptillian/creepy-crawly population of Sri Lanka. I have never really been scared of bugs, however, when I was a wee lad I vividly recall disobeying my parents by watching a TV version of the early 90s thriller, Arachnophobia. One particular scene became forever etched into my psyche and is responsible for my slight distaste for bugs: a legion of spiders had taken over the bathroom of some house, unbeknownst to an unfortunate patron of that bathroom. As he/she (I can't remember) showered, spiders crawled out of pipes in the shower head, toilet, faucets, to prey upon the unsuspecting bather. I thought this was great entertainment. But when I went to shower that night, I was keenly aware of every single hole and hide-away in which some killer arachnid may be waiting in ambush for me. For a week straight, I spun a perpetual 360 as I showered, bearing the sting of soap in my eyes to avoid missing the sign of a sneak spidey-attack. I performed a thorough examination of the toilet before every use, making sure that no poisonous webspinners were clinging to some under-visible underside, waiting to take advantage of my embarassingly vulnerable immobility. Fortunately, this paranoia gradually subsided.

My childhood fears revisited me this week.

Upon entering the bathroom to relieve myself (I seem to write a lot about bodily functions...) I noticed a big 'ole nasty cockroach floating in the bottom of the toilet. Paranoia flooding back, I tried flushing him down, to no avail. So, I proceeded in my initial task, very cautiously and awkwardly, while trying to keep an eye on the overgrown beetle. With the mission accomplished, I triumphantly flushed, making sure that this time, my roach friend slipped down into the watery depths of the sewer. However, as the flushed water flooded down the sides of the toilet, it carried with it another cockroach, who had been clinging to the underside of the toilet rim, knocked from his perch by the rushing water. Inches away from where I had been sitting. Sick. Nasty. I hate cockroaches.

So there you have it - there are some things that scare me... kind of.

Rags

2009-10-16T22:03:00.004+05:30

I attended my first Sri Lankan birthday party on Tuesday, the first of two I was invited to this week. It was to celebrate the 4th birthday of my little pukey friend who decided to gift me with some vomit on my leg for my own birthday (see previous post. I guessed she was six in that post, way off). I didn't return the favor, but I did eat some wonderful food at both her party and the second one, held for the one year old son of a Kandy pastor. If you are invited as a guest into a Sri Lankan home, they make sure they bring out the fattened calf, or in this case, ten different curries, to thank you for your presence. And no, is not an option. It doesn't matter if you are full, you keep eating until they are satisfied.

At the second party I met a little girl who was wearing a rather interesting headband. I have learned that Bob Marley is intensely popular in Sri Lanka, so it is not uncommon to Jamaican flags and pictures of marijuana leaves as stickers on three-wheeled taxis and plastered on city walls. However, this was the first time I have seen the cannabis leaf worn as clothing by a toddler. It shouldn’t really surprise me, since Sri Lanka is full of such anachronisms.
There is a certain irony in the way that western products have received an open-armed (and often naive) acceptance by Sri Lankan culture. It is the kind of irony that would explain a 3 year old sporting a pot-leaf as headgear. Or, a woman at the local Bible college proudly parading the campus, Bible in hand, with the “Hustler” logo emblazoned across her t-shirt clad chest.
Ability to read English aside, I don’t think the message or logo which appears on their clothing bears any real importance to the average wearer in Sri Lanka. For example: Trying to strike up conversation with a teenage, English speaking friend of mine, I asked him, pointing at the emblem on his shirt and shorts, if the New York Knicks were his favorite basketball team? He replied, "Who are the Knicks?"

As the tonnes and tonnes of western designed clothes make there way across the ocean to this little island, I am convinced that there is some pit stop a long the way where they layover and take time to neuter the cultural meaning from any phrase, word or slogan that may have held any sort of potency in the country in which it was conceived. After such neutering, a pastor-in-training at a Bible college can promote a porno magazine with a logo on her shirt with a free mind and guilt-less conscience. The original virility of the message honestly means nothing. In so doing, the shirt-as-billboard simply becomes clothing. A rag to cover nakedness. The message which it proclaims bears no real representation of the beliefs of its wearer. I probably wouldn’t be able to score some weed from my small friend with the rastafari headband. She probably couldn’t even tell me what her headband bore a picture of. It bears a message but to her it holds no significance.

It bears a message but holds no meaning.

“...by this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another...”

Every once and awhile I see these shirts (moreso in North America than here) that say ,“LOVE” right across the front . I have thought, man, I would really like to make a proclamation like that, but that is a lot of pressure. What if I wear that shirt one day, and I do something unloving? What if my life can't back up this LOVE that I'm "wearing"?

If I bear the label of love on my life, but don't allow that label to hold any significant power over my life, it is just a rag. It is just a rag that I use to dress up in, to be fashionable, to show that I belong to a certain club. If it bears a message but holds no meaning, that is all it is - a rag, not really useful for anything except for covering nakedness.

happy barfday

2009-10-10T22:03:00.005+05:30

I really need to get into a habit of blogging at regular intervals rather than going on blog binge and purge cycles like I have been doing. At any rate, as promised in my previous post, here is a story.
I was not quite sure what to expect for my first international birthday, so I appropriately placed my expectations quite low. My birthday fell on a Sunday, and this particular Sunday I was out of Kandy visiting another church in Kurunegala, an hour and a bit away. I went to see some ancient ruins with a bunch of men from the church on a day trip on Saturday (Sri Lanka's history is fascinating, if you are bored some day you should google Polonnarawu or Anuradhapura, two of the ancient capital cities) which is a much longer story than I am willing to relay right now. We got back late Saturday night and I pretty much went to bed straight away. Somehow my Kurunegala hosts found out it was my birthday, and I woke up for breakfast Sunday morning to find my place set with a gift, quite lovely. My hosts also made sure that they slipped the pastor a note during the service so he was aware it was my birthday. So, I was asked up to the front to receive a rousing, international flavored rendition of "Huppy Birt-day."
When I returned to Kandy Monday morning I found that there were several youth from the church who had also learned of my day of birth and were dissapointed that I was not around for them to receive gifts(apparently, the birthday boy or girl is the giver of gifts in Sri Lanka)! So when they showed up that night for youth church, I was prepared with a canadian style birthday cake to feed the well-wishers.
There were about nine youth who came, including the six year old sister of one of the boys. This precious little girl kept coming in and out of the group all night, whimpering and wanting to be held by her brother and I wondered what her problem could be and why she wasn't hanging out downstairs with her grandma as she usually does. No problem, the meeting went on.
We finished the meeting and all paraded downstairs for some delectable dessert at the expense of the birthday boy. Before we dug in, I was again regaled with another presentation of "Huppy Birt-day." However, this performance had a little extra flavor than the previous version, compliments of the sweet small one who kept interrupting the youth group. She decided to make known to all of us why she had been whimpering and whining the whole evening. As the voices joined together in a harmonious gusto down the home stretch: "...Huppy Birt-daaaaay tooooo.....VOMIT!" I was standing close enough to my little friend that I felt several projectiles of puke spatter on my leg before I actually knew what had happened. The funny thing is that no one even broke concentration, flawlessly carrying on, "...tooo...yooouuuuuuu!"

She felt much better after she upchucked all over the dining room floor. I had a great laugh. We all enjoyed cake. Everybody wins.

Does Jesus play cricket?

2009-10-10T15:32:00.001+05:30

Hello friends!
It has been much too long since I last wrote a blog. Much has happened. Much has been experienced. But I think if I attempted to tell you about everything, my posts would start just becoming an itinerary of my days. An itinerary that would fill several blogs. So, I am not going to fill you in on ALL the stories that happen here (and this way you have a good reason to come and visit me when I get back, to hear all the stories and see all the pictures of the many things that I have not included here).
One of the questions I am often asked by friends and family from home is, "What have you been doing?" To those of us with North American bred minds, this is a perfectly legitimate question since we have this insatiable desire to do, to produce, to meet deadlines, conquer, succeed. But here, doing isn't regarded nearly as highly as just being. Being with someone, being available, being free to just sit down and talk. So, looking back on my time thus far (nearly a month) I also ask myself, "What have I done?" Answer: Not much.
Maybe "doing" isn't the point. I came in here with guns blazing, expecting to "do" great things for the Kingdom. I expected to have certain tasks, certain responsibilities, certain things that I could check off my list to appease my task centered mind. But I have found my structured lists afloat in a sea of unstructuredness. Afloat with no hope of finding anything that resembles "do" floating alongside it to which it might attach itself and gain some sort of validity. This week found myself longing intensely for some sort of physical labor, so that I could look back and see what I had accomplished.
In my naivety, I came here to "do mnistry" but have instead found myself just living. Just living as minister. Is that 'doing ministry?" Is that ministry? Living without stucture and appointments and meetings (ok, well not completely devoid of these things, but mostly). What is ministry? Is it preaching a sermon? Is it visiting the sick? Is it spending time with friends? Is it playing cricket? Is it reading the Word? Hmm, I don't know. My checklist mind keeps trying to compartmentalize all these things so that I can be "efficient" in "doing ministry." My mind is consistently blown by the way that cultures wire you to think certain ways.
I realize that this in not a particularly profound post. I realize it is not really put together that well. I apologize for its seeming lack-lustre, especially since it is the first post in a long while. I can't comprehend these things. I wonder if it is even worth trying to comprehend them. I wonder if maybe my desire to understand everything is causing me to miss out on some things that just need to be experienced. Not understood. Not concepts to be conquered, but simply things to live. Faith like a child. Trust in the Father. Not needing to understand, just knowing that He is good and he will take care.

Hopefully my next post won't be so disjointed.

Now I know my ABCs

2009-09-30T20:00:00.000+05:30

Today was a typical day for me. I woke up and did some reading and journaling, then enjoyed a curry breakfast at 9 o clock. By 10 o clock I was ready to leave the house for the day, as per my host's instructions; we ended up leaving at 11:30 - typical of how time flows here in Sri Lanka. I have learned to always have a book or magazine handy. We were off to make the rounds visiting some people from the congregation, praying for them, seeing how we can help meet some of their needs. These visits are usually conducted exclusively in Sinhala, so I usually just pray, or if there are children in the house I try to make funny faces at them, hoping to solicit a smile or two. Kids don't seem to care that I can't speak their language. I am learning a lot of these universal languages as I am here. smiling is one language in which I have been able to have beautiful conversations.
Anyways, one of these smile conversations led this one pretty little girl to show me her "Learning ABC" book. She opened it up and showed me the "R" for Rabbit, and "D" for Dog and other classic examples that you would expect to find in a book teaching the alphabet to toddlers. However, there were a couple examples that were sure sign indicators that this book was not published in a country that speaks English as there first language. This lovely publishing company from Sri Lanka had some interesting words it wanted to teach children for "A" and "Q":

For those of you, who like me, do not even know what "quinine" is:
quinine |ˈkwīˌnīn|
noun
a bitter crystalline compound present in cinchona bark, used as a tonic and formerly as an antimalarial drug. • An alkaloid; chem. formula: C 20 H 24 N 2 O 2.

Definitely a useful word in anyone's vocabulary.
If only I had a book to teach me these these valuable words when I was a toddler.

"The unexamined life is not worth living." ~ Socrates

2009-09-28T16:19:00.000+05:30

My last post left you with tales of toiletry and cultural conundrums, evidence of my stumblings and bumblings in a strange new land. I am happy to report that this strange land is becoming less foreign and more....dare I say..."home." I think that for me, I would call home a place that I can be myself and people accept me. The comfort level is steadily rising to a degree where I feel I can be myself. Obviously there are limitations: "myself" communicates in English and not Sinhala; "myself" would still have dreadlocks (but that is a more complicated issue than me wanting to be myself); "myself" would probably itch and scratch places that I would not dare of itching and scratching here, but that probably has more to do with becoming TOO comfortable at home than it has to do with being myself. These things aside, I can be myself. This "home-coming" became evident to me one night as I drove in a van with three other Sri Lankans, only one of whom has a convervastional grasp of the English language. I can't recall the context, but somehow I had got the entire van into uproarious laughter, and it wasn't because they were snickering at my attempts at Sinhala pronunciation! I guess laughter is a universal language - it makes me feel at home.
Being more comfortable has afforded me the opportunity to engage in one of my other favorite activities: thinking. A peculiar pastime for sure, but one that is difficult to ignore when every moment, every fiber of my life is being grated against the fabric of a culture whose construct chafes against my North-American nurtured skin in every way possible. Living in a developing country does not make me resent my North American whiteness and wealth; I am not sorry that I am a white man - but it does make me ask a lot of questions about life and justice and morality and spirituality. Some things I am thinking: (these are rhetorical and have by no means come to any concrete conclusions in my mind, but I would love to hear your comments on these things)
-Is a desire to be challenged and have my mind expanded a worthwhile reason to spend a whole bunch of money to fly to a third world country with money that I am sure could have fed hundreds of starving children?
-Are tithes and donations to "feed the poor, heal the sick" of any worth if the giver remains unchallenged by the very reason that poverty and sickness exist?
-Is traveling, in an effort to be challenged, a worthy investment of God-given resources?
-How do we ensure that our lives remain/or become "others-focused" while living in cultures that are so comfortable and play towards our selfish nature?
-Do we need to fly half-way across the world in order to keep our minds and worldviews from becoming stagnant and unchallenged?
-What is the balance between enjoying/exploring all that Creation has to offer (a seemingly selfish endeavor) and helping others (selflessness)? Do they exist at opposite ends of the spectrum or can they find common ground in some sort of union?

?

These are the things I end up thinking about every time I pull out my fat wallet to purchase something for mere pennies from street vendors. I don't necessarily feel guilty, I just think. Maybe that is a problem too.
I don't know the answers and I doubt you do either, but that does not mean it is fruitless to engage these questions. Please comment, or write me an email, or just let this stew in your minds for a few days and let me know what delicious brew forms. My own mind has been marinating since I got off the plane.

Happy digesting.

Caught Left Handed

2009-09-22T23:02:00.000+05:30

This week has afforded me a haven of sorts, called Lanka Bible College. Upon graduating from Briercrest, I doubted that I would be back in a Bible College classroom so soon, but here I am, in Kandy Sri Lanka carrying out the same routine that I have become so comfortable to me for the past five years. No, I have not re-enrolled in Bible school, this is only a one week stint at LBC, but a welcome one. My host, Chaminda, is working on a Bachelor of Theology degree and was due for a week of Contemporary Theology this week, so I opted to join him. For the whopping price of 1, 250 rupees ($12.50 Canadian - compared to around $700 per class that I paid per class back in Canada), and the promise of instruction in English, I figured it was too good to pass up.

This has proven to be a fantastic opportunity for me. I have been able to engage my mind in English again, and have also made some friends with a large handful of English speaking people in Sri Lanka. But more than that, sitting in discussions with a class full of Sri Lankans has allowed me to gain a MUCH greater understand of this nation, its people, and its values. I feel that I am starting to gain my feet once again.

A welcome sign of my acclimatization has been the return of humor. Rather than seeing culture differences as frustrating, a lot of them have become quite hilarious to me. For instance, today after class I went on a couple visits to some homes with my host, both of them non-English speaking. Sri Lankans LOVE to be hospitable, and in their world hospitality involves pushing as much food as possible at you anytime you visit. I have learned how to say no, but in this situation, with the language barrier, they must have misconstrued my polite "no thankyou" hand motions as a plea for more. So within an hour I had polished off half of a cake and had downed my 6th cup of tea for the day, and I am sure I would have been forced to consume more had it not been for Chaminda rescuing me from the food pushers by interpreting my feeble sign language.

My cultural learnings have also allowed me to uncover the hilarity behind some of the things that I previously disregarded. Case in point - This is a picture of one of my very first sights in Sri Lanka: a welcome oasis in the Colombo airport after the 9 hour flight from Frankfurt to Sri Lanka.

I was immediately intrigued by the "shower head" on the wall in the toilet stall, so I took a picture and wondered why people would find it necessary to shower in the bathroom stall. For the past week, as I have lived amongst hosts that are well accustomed to North American guests, in a house complete with all the North American comforts, my initial analysis of the airport bathroom required no further scrutiny. However, today during lunch break, as I discovered "the facilities," I found the same peculiar set up that I had seen in the airport, minus one very important item...toilet paper. As I frantically searched the neighboring stalls for a scrap of white gold, I came to the horrifying realization that toilet paper was not only missing, but entirely foreign to these bathrooms (and most bathrooms in Sri Lanka). Those "shower heads" were not for showering at all... and now I understand FULLY why everyone here eats with their right hand!

....sorry for the bathroom humour, hopefully you can laugh at my clumsy cultural education and not necessarily at the potty prose

Challenge

2009-09-19T08:23:00.001+05:30

This post could be an interesting one. I have had about a million thoughts floating around in my head since I arrived in Sri Lanka; the sheer volume of which hasn't really allowed me to process all that I am thinking. I have done a little bit of journalling to try and make sense of what I am experiencing here, and this is kind of a continuation of that: a sort of verbal purge of all that is in my mind in an attempt to lay it out before me (and you), step back, take a look, and see if I can understand what's in my head.

A day or two before I left, my aunt asked me, "David, what do you hope to gain/experience from your time in Sri Lanka?" Without hesitation I replied, "I want to be challenged." Yikes. If I only knew the full extent of what those words would imply as I threw myself wholly into a different world, to live and love and experience for three (or more) months. Yes, I am being challenged.

No matter what anyone did tell me, or could have told me, despite what I read and studied, I don't think I could have prepared myself for my first experience living in a different culture. Everything here forces me out of my comfort and requires me to alter the way I think about things. I was trying to put my thoughts into picture form: I feel like I have suddenly been forced into a wheel chair after a lifetime of knowing how to walk. I look around and see people walking, even running, and I know that I know how to walk and run as well, but here I cannot. Rather, I am stuck in this wheel chair, being pushed around by those who can walk and run freely. My mobility is limited, I am restricted to studying these walkers from my wheel chair, hoping that I can pick up cues and habits that might enable me to walk with the same strength that I formally knew. But for now, I simply go where I am pushed.

Obviously, the biggest challenge is the language. There are plenty of people here who speak English with enough fluency that I can have uninhibited conversation, however, the feeling of being "on the outside" is never far away. If I am in a group of people, the likelihood of all of them speaking conversational English is slight, so the conversation naturally falls into Sinhala. I have a little Sinhala-English phrasebook that has allowed me some hilarious conversations, in which most of the time is spent flipping furiously between pages, trying to piece together some semblance of communication. They are usually quite pleased with my efforts. I have found a "Learn Sinhala" website that I hope will be allow me more conversation and a less time blankly staring at people.

I think I am pretty much over my jet lag now. But fatigue is never far away. It is incredibly exhausting to live in a completely different culture. All my natural, Canadian-born inclinations, must be checked, adapted, and then evaluated to make sure that my actions were culturally acceptable. Some of the adaptations I think I am doing quite well at. For instance, I don't use utensils anymore. Everyone in Sri Lanka eats with their right hand. My first attempt to eat Sri Lanka style involved diving in, North-American-hamburger-and-fries style, with both hands. Quiet laughter and a gentle rebuke informed me that I should leave my left hand in my lap. The left hand apparently has a historical function that is not conducive to eating! Lesson learned. Despite wanting to eat with my hands my entire life, it is a lot more difficult than expected! Believe it or not, there is a proper way to put food in your mouth with your hand...maybe I can give you a demo when I get back.

Other things that are culturally "other to me:
-A girl asked how old I was and I replied, "22," to which she replied, "I thought you were older, about 27 or 28, because you are so tall and so fat!" hmmm....I don't think I have ever been called fat in my entire life. My host figures she meant "in shape."
-It is not uncommon for men to hold hands
-Average meal times: Breakfast - 9 am; Lunch 2 pm; Supper 9 pm
-They don't really eat meat here
-I have eaten rice for every meal since being here, except yesterday I ate KFC for lunch
-Schedule? What's a schedule?
-I have seen a grand total of 3 white people since I have been here. I visited a village where some little boys ran around yelling "SUDHA, SUDHA!" My host informed me that I might be the first "sudha" (white man) that they have seen.

One difference that has really quite affected me is there views over how one should dress and look. Imagine with me a country where the the temperature is usually over 25 degrees Celsius, and the majority of work is done outdoors, or in open air shops. You would think that shorts and t-shirts would be a common sight....WRONG! For whatever reason, most of the men where dress pants and dress shirts. The older, working class men wear sarongs (skirt like garments), and a lot of the women dress in saris (just google it), but the majority of men wear hot cotton dress pants and collared, stifling, button up shirts. I think most of you know me well enough to know that this is NOT MY STYLE! I have been able to get away with shorts and t-shirt most of the time (I think because I am a young white man, given some allowances because I am obviously not part of the culture) but I feel as though I might eventually have to give in to this uncomfortable looking fashion. It did not take me long to realize that the "clean-cut" business-man style is the norm here. Once again, not my style. However, I made up my mind long before I set foot on this island, that I wanted to try to be a part of their culture as much as I could. This meant gut check time for me (some of you might see where this is going). I made a thousand arguments in my head to try and get my own way, but basically, as such a stranger to this culture, I don't want to offend anyone, without understanding anything that people were saying I want to know that when they were staring, it is because I am white and not because I have/had dreads.....

see post below

"...all things to all men..."

2009-09-18T22:08:00.000+05:30

free to comment

2009-09-14T10:26:00.000+05:30

Aayu-bowan!
I have officially arrived in Kandy Sri Lanka! Flight came in at 4:15 a.m, went through customs no problem (which I am sure is a great relief to all of you who thought I would be strip searched for drugs on account of my hair) and then began the three hour windy drive to Kandy with Chaminda, my host/pastor/uncle (apparently in Sri Lankan culture I am his nephew we are related and I am younger than him, which makes him my uncle). I am just writing a quick post to let you know that I changed my settings so that anyone can leave comments now. I wasn't aware that I had it set otherwise. So, comment away! Just make sure you fill in your name when you comment so I know who it is from. Ok, I am going to try to sleep off some jet lag. I will do a full update as soon as my mind joins my body in this time zone.

shift

2009-09-12T05:46:00.000+05:30

Greetings family, friends, and curious strangers!

Let me preface this entry by informing you that the "SHIFT" key on the keyboard from which I am typing is malfunctioning. As a result, capitalizing anything requires significant effort and a fair amount of luck to get the button to hit just right and capitalize my letters. Indeed a rather frustrating predicament for my debut in the blogging community. So, if it is alright with you, I will cease to capitalize from this point forward (unless it is really important and worth the effort). i promise that my commitment to grammar will return as soon as i am able to write from a fully functioning keyboard.

this unfortunate circumstance does however allow me a convenient (though slightly cheesy) segue into this post. "shift" is appropriate to describe the next day, week, months of my life as i enter into something completely "other." today, in approximately 8.5 hours, i will be boarding a plane in toronto that will inaugurate my journey of shifts as i leave canada to travel halfway around the world to live in sri lanka for 3(minimum) to 6(maximum) months. there are certain things that i am expecting to experience, but i am aware that there is little that will prepare me for much of what i will live/learn/be exposed to while i am there.

some "shifts" i am expecting:

-from -4o degree celsius canadian winters to +25 sri lankan winters (with an average relative humidity of 70%!)
-from english to sinhala. sinhala is the language spoken by the majority singhalese population. tamil is spoken by the minority tamil population. both are official languages of the country.
-from living as a member of the majority population, to occupying the minority foreigner role
-from driving on the right side of the road to the left
-from the vast open, unpopulated countryside of southern alberta (canada has a population density of 3.2 people/square km) to densely populated little sri lanka (298 people/square km)
-from momma's good 'ole "meat 'n potatoes" dutch style cooking to spicy, spicy curry. i have heard that sri lankan curry is one of the spiciest curries around. apparently it isn't uncommon to eat curry for breakfast either! i am hoping that this radical shift in input doesn't result in too radical a shift in output... ...
-from coffee breaks to tea time (sri lanka is one of the world's largest exporters of tea)
-from a "christian" nation to a buddhist nation. in sri lanka: buddhists - 70%; hindus - 15%; muslims - 9%; christians - 6%
-from a place where i can freely worship God and attend a church, to a country where christians are seen as suspect. though outright persecution of christians is minimal, the buddhist government is worried that other religions are encouraging young buddhists to abandon buddhism. christianity is seen as the main threat.
-from a peaceful country to a country who is just starting to recover from a three decades war that ended (by media and government reports) in may of this year.

i am excited about shifts. i am excited about the opportunity to be confronted each day with a way of life that is radically different from my own. i hope that my own worldview is refined and challenged when held up against the fabric of a completely different way of life and thinking. hopefully this blog will be able to relay some of the changes in my thinking and being. more than just regurgitating my weekly events, i hope to give anyone who ventures upon this blog something to think about. i undoubtedly will be doing a fair share of thinking myself as i undergo a shift in my life which is sure to leave its mark long after my adventure in sri lanka comes to a close.

p.s.
i hope to post at least once a week at least so be sure to check back! and, since this is the primary communication i will have with most people back home, PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS!

p.p.s. i promise i will use proper capitalization next time