Boiled Chicken and Running Away

Inspired by 'Who's Irish?' (1999) by Gish Jen, I attempted to write a short story in a very colloquial manner, almost like what it would sound like, if the character, not so good in her middle-school English, would write. It is a satirical story of a girl who has just attained in age and has elements of Sri Lankan culture in it. So unless you are a conventional Sri Lankan, you will probably not understand the sarcasm. Either way, enjoy and feel free to comment! 

She no small girl now. She big. Blood coming from between her legs every month now. Everybody knows it. Embarrassing! She can’t see boys for five days, not even Father. She can’t play with boys now after this day. She must learn to cook rice, dhal curry, scrape coconut and make a Sambol. She must learn to wash clothes, bashing them on the granite rock and know the exact amount of whitening powder to put for white clothes. She must also wear long skirts now and talk softly. Can’t shout, even when she see a big iguana across the road. If iguana attack her, she can’t shout. If iguana eat her, she can’t shout. Now she is woman. Can have baby if not careful. Imagine having baby at thirteen! Boys in village will now come to flirt with her. In five years, one will be lucky to take her to his mother’s house. 

Now she must be cautious. Every month, she will have tummy aches and head pains. She will be allowed to sleep during the day and skip school if she want to. She can’t wear white skirts. But school uniform white skirt. Poor girl. Oh no. Poor woman! So, in five days, at 06.43 in the morning is the auspicious time. She cover herself with a white cloth and go to have a bath with lavender flowers. She crack open a coconut. She can’t even carry the cleaver. She is so petite. Not five feet tall and weight less than 40 kilograms. Opposite of her tall, fat sister. She open the coconut. Good luck came! Then come inside house and wear gold and pink dress. Gold and pink! Mother put a thin gold chain on her neck. Now she can look at boys. So, Father put two thin gold bangles on left arm. Grandmother put big, chunky, rose-shaped, gold earrings on her ears. “Ouch” she say. She doesn’t like earrings. “Pull my ear down”, she say. “Now you must wear earrings all the time. You are a girl” grandmother say. “I always a girl” she say. Mother frown. Sister laugh. 

In afternoon, Mother, Grandmother and two aunties serve a grand lunch. They cooked fried rice, chicken curry with extra chilies, potato and dhal. Always have dhal in special occasions. Dhal is a must! They have fried papadam. She can’t eat papadam. She can’t eat fried rice, because have oil. She can’t eat oil, until blood stop. Otherwise her stomach will hurt more and she will get ugly. She grab plate and serves a big papadam. Grandmother hit her hand. “No papadam for you! You want to be ugly skin with pimples like your sister?” Sister make a face. Mother bring plate full of white rice and boiled chicken for her. Mother has served vegetables also. She hate vegetables. “So bitter” she say. Her chicken have no spices. It is yellow. But chicken for guest is nice brown curry. Now she make face. Boys from the village eating tasty food, laugh at her. One boy wink. She turns and looks behind her dress. She have to be extra careful now. Can’t jump, can’t run, can’t sit.

She gets lot of small, small gifts. A few big gifts. She get another gold chain and a few earrings. And she get another three bangles. A small pendent. She get a few ornaments. Pink dolls with green dresses. She doesn’t like ornaments. She get some cloth for making dresses. Some fancy things like chains and bracelets. She wants a makeup set. But no. No one give her makeup set. She put them in a small box. She is happy because now she can run away when she is fifteen. She can’t runway now because she want to run away with O/L results. Otherwise can’t find any job after runway. She want to hide the gold under her bed. But Mother come and take it. “Safe with me” Mother say. She make a face. 

Three days later, she not go to school. Blood still coming from her private part. She thinks blood never stop. If she can’t go to school for week, she will miss so much. An exam also. Then, in two years, she can’t pass O/L exam. She can’t runaway then. Fourth day blood is still there. She gets dressed and go to school. Cloth between her legs is uncomfortable. She walk slow. She make a ugly face. “Give this to Teacher and worship” Mother tell and give a bundle of beetle leaves to her hand. “Why? It is no Awurudu still!” she ask. “Don’t talk back! You are a big girl now! Big girl don’t talk back to Mother”. Class is uncomfortable because of the blood coming between her legs. She don’t want to stand. But teacher ask question. “Name three national parks in Sri Lanka!” She names them. She knows them well. She knows a lot of things well! She reads. She smart girl. Smart woman!  She want to pass O/L and run away. But now can’t run away because mother has gold. How to run away without gold?

For lunch, still boiled chicken and dhal with white rice. Sister eats left over tasty food. Next door boy comes and ask her to play hide and seek. “Go! She won’t play” Mother shouts and next door little boys get scared and runaway. She want to play hide and seek. After few hours she is hungry and boring. She scrapes the wall. “What you doing child!” Grandmother shouts. “Big girls not supposed to shout” she tell Grandmother. Sister laugh. Grandmother angry. Mother complain. “No use, these girls.” She pout. She go to table. Remaining boiled chicken in a pot, is covered with a cloth. She put little hand and take a piece. She open her history book and study. Boring. She eats chicken. Boring. But she somehow reads the history book. Must pass O/L and runway. Must get that gold. She fall asleep on the page about King Dhutugammunu...

Rise against Domestic Violence in Sri Lanka

Domestic violence should not be considered as a part of Sri Lankan culture; each individual should intervene to create a violence-free society.

Domestic violence is an issue that is getting a great deal of attention, but is still a throbbing problem in our society. Family is the most important unit in any community, because it is from the family, that a child learns the values he or she implements in the future. A good family will produce a good child, who, in turn, will grow up to be a responsible and productive adult. Hence, it is an obvious cycle, where superior  upbringing will directly influence in the betterment of society. Domestic violence, which is defined as “abusive behavior directed against another in a family context or among partners who are married, cohabiting or dating” (Hamel, J. and Nicholls, T. L.,2007) is a massive problem in Sri Lanka, especially in low-income families. Unfortunately, people turn a blind eye towards such violence, because of the lack of awareness. According to the United Nations’, ‘National Strategy for Protection against Domestic Violence’, domestic violence is also referred to as spousal abuse, battering and intimate partner violence. It entails physical, sexual, mental, emotional and verbal abuse. Unpermitted domineering, intimidation, covert abuse, financial deprivation, trespassing, kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment are all forms of domestic violence (Dutton, D. G., 2006). This brief essay contains statistics about domestic violence and why Sri Lankan authorities and society in general, ignore such behavior. It will also entails the importance of spreading awareness about domestic violence. 

According to a research done by Leelangi Wanasundara (2000), the number of reported cases of domestic violence has increased dramatically between the years of 1991 and 1997. The number of cases of harassment has increased from a 295 in 1991 to 1526 in 1997. The number of murders has increased up to 73 from 13 in 1991. Complaints regarding attempted murders, child abuse, rape and incest have also increased radically (Wanasundara, L., 2000). These statics are not up to date, but several news items have shown that domestic violence is on the rise in all provinces of Sri Lanka. An article published in the Daily News on the 08^th of January 2011, stated that violence against pregnant women has increased by 40%. This news item further stated that such incidents often result in complications during birth and bring threat to the life of the mother and the baby. Intentional blows on the stomach are a common cause of birth defects in babies (Bandara, S., 2011). Police stations state that they receive an average of 10,000 complaints regarding domestic violence annually (Wijeyesekera, R., 2011). This is in fact a major problem considering that 51% of the Sri Lankan population is female. Around the world, at least one in three women is subjected to violence. About three women and one man are murdered daily by their intimate partners. One in five teenagers is in abusive relationships and at least ten million children witness domestic violence each year. But, it is reported that only about half of the victims get help. In some parts of the world, up to 95% tolerate domestic violence due to cultural obligations and in Sri Lanka too, women and children fail to reach out for help when it is indeed (Domestic Violence Facts, 2007; Dutton, D. G., 2006; Wanasundara, L., 2000).

            

         Sri Lanka, similar to may parts of the world, has a clearly patriarchal society where prominence is given to the male role of a family. This and the fact that there is strict hierarchy in the Sri Lankan social system has lead to discrimination against women and children. Authorities tend to take complaints regarding domestic violence less seriously and many of these cases can be very costly and lengthy. An extract from a study done by Leelangi Wanasundara, from the Center for Women’s Research reads, “Many victims of violence believe that the law enforcement personnel are insensitive to their needs and the victims are perceived as the ones who committed the crime. Domestic violence is still regarded as a family matter and a rape victim is humiliated in courts…” (Wanasundara, L., 2000). In spite of the fact that there are clear laws against all forms of domestic violence written down in the national convention, the society seems to ignore them. The punishments for such behavior seem to be taken less seriously. Sri Lanka has four major international instruments including the 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political rights, 1976 Convention of Elimination of All forms of Discrimination against Women, 1989 Convention on the Rights of Child and the 1984 Convention on Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment. The government initiated a program named ‘Mithuru Piyasa’ in 2007, which is based at every government hospital. There is now a special division that handles such cases in each police department.  There are rehabilitation centers, child protection agencies, NGO’s and religious organizations spread across the island. Never the less, very few seem to know of the importance of putting a stop to domestic violence.

           

                    The impact of domestic violence is massive. It not only affects the person directly maltreated, but also those witnessing the happening. For example, a child seeing a father ill-treat his mother regularly may either develop severe anxiety or even model the father’s unprincipled acts. Studies have shown that over 60% of victims of domestic violence are likely to develop anxiety and/ or depression. Many of them attempt suicide (Dutton, D. G., 2006). Children who come from abusive homes have a greater chance of failing in their academic work and engaging in violent behaviors in the presence of their peers. A considerable percentage of juvenile delinquents are those who have been abused or seen such acts. In addition, many studies repeated over the course of history have shown that those who come from abusive families are likely to get into abusive relationships themselves. This could be either as the submissive partner, who is involved with someone with similar traits of violence they experienced as children or as the abuser. Hence, it is an accepted fact that domestic violence is a learned behavior that can only be stopped if each person rethinks the impact of what they do. 

            A society cannot be changed at once, as a whole. Change should be brought upon any community issue, by changing the outlook of the mindsets of every member of that community. The law enforcers should be strictly advised to adhere to the punishments stated in the national convention and be supportive towards victims instead of putting them to further shame. People of all walks of life must be made aware of what domestic violence is and how they should react if they become victims. Just as it is done in the case of epidemic diseases like Dengue, awareness campaigns must be held so that every individual knows where to go and whom to contact if necessary. Gandhi once said “be the change you want to see in the world”. This is indeed the attitude that should be imposed upon each mind if we are to create a violence-free society for the future. A home is the single place on earth that an individual feels safe and comfortable. All relevant authorities and most importantly, each citizen must take measures to grant this right to all. 

References

Bandara, S. (2011) Increasing Domestic Violence Against Women. Daily News Online,
           8^th   January 2011. Retrieved on 12^th April 2011 from
           http://www.dailynews.lk/2011/01/08/news31.asp 

Domestic Violence Facts (2007) National Coalition Against Doemstoic Violence Retrieved on
           9^th April http://www.ncadv.org/files/DomesticViolenceFactSheet%28National%29.pdf

Dutton, D. G. (2006). Rethinking Domestic Violence. Vancouver, BC, Canada: UBC Press
           Retrieved on 10^th April 2011

Hamel, J. and Nicholls, T. L. (2007). Family Interventions in Domestic Violence: A
             Handbook of Gender-Inclusive Theory and Treatment. New York, NY: Springe
             Retrieved on 11^th April 2011 from http://books.google.lk /books/abo               /Family_Interventions_in_DomesticViolenc.html?id=e9YJKzn5LDcC&redir_esc=y

Sri Lanka: Violence Against Women on the Rise (2008) Gender Based Violence Forum.
            Retrieved on 11^th April 2011 from http://www.irinnews.org/Report/81693/SRI-LANKA-Violence- against-women-on-the-rise

Wanasundara, L. (2000) Country Report on Violence against Women in Sri Lanka. Center for
           Women’s Research. Retrieved on 11^th April 2011 from http://www.isst-india.org /PDF/Violence%20against%20women%20-%20Sri%20Lanka.pdf

Wijeyesekera, R. (2011) An Introduction to ‘Prevention of the Domestic Violence Act of Sri
            Lanka’. Department of Private and Comparative Law, Faculty of Law, University of
           Colombo, Sri Lanka. 

Essay by – Hansini Gunasekara

Find Help

Sahanaya National Council for Mental Health 

Telephone - +94 112 685 960, +94 115 350 819

Website - http://www.sahanaya.org/

Sri Lanka Police - Children and Women Bureau  

Telephone - Please visit the web address below to contact the police station in your area

Website - http://www.police.lk/index.php/child-a-women-bureau

Women in Need Sri Lanka

Telephone -  011 2671411, 2671 401, 4641 466, 4641 543, 24-hour Hotline - 4718585

Website - http://winsl.net/

The Orange Café - A very Lankan Affair

           I was not supposed to be here. I was not supposed to see him. When my parents first found out about Rukshan, they didn’t tell me. They didn’t ask a word about the boy I’ve been seeing for the past 5 months and 20 days. Later, our home was chaos. Father blamed it on Mother’s lack of parenting competency and Mother blamed Father, for being over-protective. My father was never too over protective. If you meet Nishanthi’s parents, you would know what I mean. Her father wouldn’t let her go even for a group tuition class. She had teachers coming to her house to help her with the second round of Advanced Levels. She was never allowed to come on class trips, nor was she allowed to go to parties. Nishanthi didn’t own a skirt shorter than her knee and she wasn’t allowed to be seen in skimpy tops even if the temperature outside was well over humid thirty-two degrees. I was not overprotected like that. In fact, that is why I’m sitting here, in a middle-class café, waiting for my lover of almost half dozen months.

It was eleven in the morning. I had to be in my accounting tuition class by twelve thirty. It was hot, even with the massive rotating fan which was fixed to the wall. The wallpaper of the café was orange; someone with very bad sense of colour had placed vases filled with hot pink roses on each table. On the side of the small area was a beat-up staircase that led to the top floor. It had a sign with an arrow pointing upwards on it saying ‘Lunch Only’. On to my right was a glass shelf full of various short eats. They looked fairy fresh. Even if the fish-buns were stuffed with half-boiled potatoes (and no fish at all), I would have eaten one. I was hungry. Rukshan never gets late. It was 11.03 already. He was three minutes late. 

        Rukshan and I met at a friend’s birthday party. It was Kasuni’s 18^th party and she had a splendid celebration at her grandmother’s massive garden. It was one of the few parties I’ve been to. I didn’t get invited to many. Rukshan was with some guys, most of them were known to me from this tuition class and that. But, I had never seen Rukshan before; I would have remembered him if I had. He wasn’t exceptionally handsome that night, with his spiked hair and dark clothes, but there was some charisma about his personality which struck me. He was standing at the center of the group of boys (well over half a foot taller than most of them) and when he spoke, they all stopped to listen. When he looked at me that night, for the first time, I could feel my eyes darting away towards my feet. I blushed. After that moment, I couldn’t pay attention to what my friends were chatting about around the dinner buffet or hear the music on the dance floor. My eyes would search for him moment after moment. That night I was a lovesick fool. But, sitting here, after nearly six months of getting to know Rukshan, my affection for him has grown beyond a moment’s infatuation. I am in love with my head. Rukshan is my first boyfriend, and I knew he was definitely the last. At that thought I smiled. I checked the time on the wall clock on the orange wall again. 11.07. Four more minutes had passed. I was getting anxious. 

       After the night at Kasuni’s party, I asked around about Rukshan. It was a fortune that I had managed to overhear his name at the party. He was twenty three back then. Definitely not one of the boys from my world! He would be twenty five this August on the day of my first advanced level paper. I looked around the place, while fiddling with my silver chain. He got it for me for new years. It had a heart shaped pendant on it and fit around my neck almost perfectly. I was getting rather hot. “Excuse me, can I have something cool to drink?” I asked the man who brushed passed me. He looked down at me in an odd way. “Miss, I am not a waiter” he said without smiling and continued to go wherever he was going. Embarrassed, I blushed. I decided it was best I kept quite until Rukshan came. I looked at the pastries next to the fish buns. I would never eat a pastry when I was out in public. You get the pastry crumbs all over you and you’d never know if you’ve got them on your face or not. Such a mess!

A week and a day after Kasuni’s party, Jehan passed a note to me during a Business Studies class. My heart skipped a beat when the girl next to me handed it over and said it was from Jehan. He wasn’t bad looking and he had a reputation for being smart. In our class, the boys sat on the left side and the girls on the right. They didn’t sit together even if they were brother and sister. I took the note from Jehan and looked up at the teacher. He was explaining something with his back to us. Christine who was sitting next to me nudged my thigh and whispered ‘What?’ With the folded note still in my sweaty palms, I looked at Jehan, he was looking straight ahead at the teacher, with a very serious expression on his face. He was handsome. I didn’t consider myself a pretty girl. I had a shapely body, my friends would say. Ruskhan has mentioned the slenderness of my limbs and the graceful height I inherited more than once. But I felt too lanky. I wish I had rounder breasts and larger hips. A friend once mentioned that boys liked curves, but not fat. I am not anywhere near fat or anywhere near curvy. But flipping through foreign beauty magazines, I’ve realized that my body could fit in well with those girls; except, my face would have to be blotted out. My skin is a golden tan – the only physical feature I’ve inherited from my father. My eyes are small and close-set with short eyelashes and drooping eyelids. I hated them. My nose is small and asymmetric and I have large maroon lips I feel are too close to my nose. My hair is a jet black mass of waves, which I usually tie in a knot at the base of my slender neck. 

          Another five minutes passed. Three boys entered the café, all of them dressed in skinny jeans and brightly colored t-shirts. They had their hair stuck down with too much oil. One of them looked at me, but turned to the shelf of food. “Three plain teas, brother” one shouted to the waiter who was now behind the counter. “No no, two plain and one Nescafe ok?” the second changed the order. “Anything to eat brother?” the young waiter asked the three boys. “Wade? Six Wade with Sambol is good” (Wade is a deep fried patty made of flour and dhal ground together and Sambol is a rather popular food here, made of scraped coconuts mixed with plenty of onions, slat and chilies). The boys sat around the table next to mine. They were chatting about Sangakkara stepping down from his captaincy and this and that about cricket. They seemed to be keen fans and maybe players themselves. After a moment, their Wade arrived, hot and aromatic. I grew hungrier. It was 11.28 now. 

                It took me a lot of bravery to open the note Jehan had passed. I was half excited and half anxious that it might be a cruel joke played on me by someone. A distant cousin once drew an elongated, distorted me, with ‘You are a Pabaya’ (scarecrow) scrolled at the bottom and gave it to me saying it was a picture of me. I opened the note to find a couple of short sentences written in untidy handwriting. It said “I would like to know you better. Please call me if you can – 07*******. Rukshan from Kasuni’s party J”. I folded the paper almost immediately. My heart beat faster and I felt suffocated. The class was over packed anyway. There was barely enough space on the bench even for my bony buttocks. I sat through the rest of the lesson uneasily, looking at the massive clock that was above the blackboard in front of me. It was five minutes slower, so every time I checked the time, I had to add five to it. I didn’t own a phone. My parents thought it was unnecessary. I didn’t stay out late anyway. Apart from school and then one extra class on Monday evenings, and my Accounting class Saturday afternoon, I was always with my parents. I would spend my days studying or watching TV. If my older brother was at home, I would have a chat with him. He studies in Paradeniya University and comes home only once a month or less. Sometimes I’d help Mother in the kitchen.

                      I felt uneasy now. It was nearing midday and seemed like Rukshan was not coming. This was the first time this has happened and I felt confused. I sat at the table half surprised that no one had questioned my presence for nearly an hour in the café and half scared. I remembered all the accidents I’ve heard about on TV and the even more terrible stories of people getting kidnapped. But I didn’t have a choice. So grabbing my linen book bag, I headed to the exit of the café. The waiter looked pityingly at me. “He didn’t come? You didn’t eat anything also sister”. I smiled with no enthusiasm and asked him to pack a pastry for me. Then I asked him for another pastry. “Give me two of those and a milk packet. Oh, I want an egg cutlet also please”. “115 rupees” he said. I pulled out all the cash I had in my wallet and gave him two hundred rupee notes. I realized I had only hundred more. “Five rupees miss?”. “No”. “No change?”. “No”. “Ok, I took 110. ok?”. “Thank you”. I put my food and drink in my bag and started heading towards my tuition class. That afternoon, I sat through an accounting class with no numbers in my mind. I didn’t even bother to take notes. I was there because I had to be. My father was coming to take me home. I wished in my mind, I could go back to the orange café. Maybe Rukshan would have come anyway. Maybe he got late. His mother may have gotten sick or he maybe sick. 

                    I remembered the first time he kissed me. It was on my right cheek. We were at some small restaurant too well-set for its cheap food. It had beautiful paintings on its clay walls and a small recorder played piano music. We had started talking about our future when the expression on Rukshan’s face changed into something I couldn’t read. He looked around quickly and pecked me on my cheek. “I love you” he said and I believed him. I blushed. “I’d run away with you if I could”. I smiled. Two days later I missed my Monday class to go to the afternoon movies with him. I changed into jeans and a t-shirt from my school dress. The movie was some English action film. It wasn’t good. It didn’t matter because in the darkness of the corner of the theater, he kissed my lips. The man on the screen was talking to his General about devising a killer plan. He pressed his lips against mine with force. I had mine closed and my eyes wide open. I wasn’t sure what to do. He put his arm around me and told me again, for the second time in less than a week that he loved me and I believed him. 

             I got three simple passes for my advanced level exam. I failed in English. I wasn’t that good at my writing and we never had qualified teachers for English. I ran out of time for the essay which carried a good chunk of my mark. I didn’t get entered to the university. “Told you not to get distracted with unnecessary things” Mother whined. “In vain I spent all that hard earned money on you. Should have saved for your sister. She will be a doctor for sure” Father blamed. My brother just said I wasn’t smart enough. I wasn’t like him. I decided to do my advanced level exam again. I enrolled at all the classes and promised my parents I would try harder. There was no other option for me anyway. So it was with great determination and courage I went to my new accounting class. There, after six months, I met Jehan. I was surprised that he hadn’t got through to the university either. He was sitting on the front row in the class and as I walked passed he stopped me. “I’m sorry” he said. I stared at him. “I lied. Rukshan was a cheater he didn’t love you.”I continued looking at him. He looked edgy. I didn’t find him attractive anymore. He had become fat and dark. His hair was like those other boys’ – glued to the skull. “He cheated on you with another girl”. He mumbled. “I know”. Standing there at the front of the class like a scarecrow, I remembered all the times he held my hand and made plans for the future. “He was lying” Jehan mumbled again. The moments with him, they were sweet. I never cried during the months after the day in the orange café, though I missed him and wondered what had gone wrong. I hoped at night that he was safe. I didn’t cry. It was as though I couldn’t. But standing there, where all could see me because of my slender height, listening to Jehan’s mumbles which had become senseless now, somehow I felt that I knew. I turned away and walked out of the class room. The evening sun was hot against my sweaty skin. I brushed the loose strands of entangled hair off my face. I walked with no awareness of the direction I was headed until I reached a small board which said “Breakfast and Lunch. Tasty Food”. I knew I was where I was meant to be. I stepped onto the café with gaudy orange walls and sat by the bright pink roses. Maybe he’d come today and I could ask him why. 

The Aappa Story

t was early morning on Saturday. Kumdu stretched while letting a long, loud and lazy yawn out. Her little sister kicked her on the right. “aiyooo! (Oh no!)” Kumudu whispered irritated. Iresha was small but her bony kicks hurt. Kumudu got off the bed quick because she didn’t want Iresha waking up at this early hour. If she did, it would be a nuisance. Babysitting Iresha was the most pathetic task and Kumudu hated it. So getting off the bed in haste, she covered up Iresha with the stripy bed sheet and walked to the broken mirror glass that was hanging by a nail by the bed. Wiping off the fog with her palm, she quickly fixed her hair in two pleats and rushed to the kitchen which was in the other room. In fact, the only other room in the house.

Amma (Mother) was already busy in the kitchen, baking the aappa (hoppers). The woodchip stove was blistering on the left corner and a pan on that was baking the 15th hopper of the morning. “Amma… How many aappa today?” Kumudu asked her mother, through another lazy yawn. Ignoring her question, her mother continued to stir the mixture in the aluminum pan. “Today also hundred and fifty aappa, amma?” Kumudu tried again. Her mother was acting deaf to Kumudu’s annoyance. Usually, their early morning exchanges consisted of details about hoppers, the hopper dealers and their customers. Eager to wake herself up from the sleepy daze, Kumudu leaned on the wall and went on. “Yesterday, I saw teacher. You know teacher no? She asked me if I could make aappa on my own” not knowing whether her mother was listening or not, she continued blabbering “when I said I don’t, she was surprised. She said ‘shame shame’ shaking her head. I was so embarrassed amma” she stopped to take a breath. “So I thought during this Aurudu holiday, you can teach me how to make aappa on my own. Not only aappa amma, I want to learn how to make Kawum (oil cakes)…ummm ummm…. You make Kawum so tasty no amma? Will you teach me? My friend Chathu said she knows how to make………..”

“Here, Kumudu, scrape that coconut near the stove, hiramane (coconut scraper) is behind the door” her mother interrupted her. “ane (please) Amma, you were not listening!” Kumudu frowned. “You talk so much child. Can’t understand what you are saying even!” her mother said with a blank expression across her face. Confused and wondering if they had lost yet another customer, like they had during the past few days, Kumudu decided to remain silent. The last thing she wanted was to get her mother angry before the break of dawn. So she sat down on the narrow hiramane and started scraping the fresh coconut. Sitting by the door, Kumudu remembered her Appachchi (father). He was shot dead on the very same spot she was sitting. Appachchi had failed to pay the debt he took for his bicycle from the Mudalaali (owner of a shop). Mudalaali had threatened him several times, before turning up at their door step one night with his riffle and shooting appachchi. Amma was dragged off and she came back looking aghast the next morning. Mudalaali was a crazy man, that is what everyone said. Kumudu didn’t miss Appachchi that much because she was very small when he died. Iresha was just a baby.

After several hours, the sun started to rise. The birds were chirping outside. Kumudu loved this time of the day. All she wanted to do was run along the gravel path on bare feet and sing with the birds. She was no singer, but she didn’t mind. She had a song in her mind about flowers and rainbows and flags waving in the wind. But her daydream trance was broken when her mother handed her the two large baskets filled with hot hoppers and sambol (a popular food item in Sri Lanka which is paired with almost anything from bread to string hoppers made of coconut mixed with chilli, onions, lime and salt). “Give this to the Udaha Kade (Upper shop - Location of the shop) aiya (brother) and tell him we need money today ok?” “Don’t come without the money child”. Iresha was now crying in the other room. Maybe she was cold or mosquitoes were biting her poor little toes.

With the baskets in either arm, Kumudu set out to the Kade (shop). “Maybe Kade Aiya will give me a toffee today”, she smiled broadly at the little squirrel that was perched on a dead tree. “Maybe today’s toffee will be coffee flavor…. maybe caramel. Who knows, he may even have an apple taste toffee… maybe if I am lucky, he would have an extra Kandos (a popular brand of Sri Lankan chocolate) chocolate from yesterday…………maybe if I drop a piece of chocolate in the right spot on the ground, it will become a chocolate fountain!!! I will call it my mother’s name! All the children can come and fill buckets of chocolate. And near that I will plant toffee trees, red one on the right……………”

(Adapted from a true story)

Easy recipe fro Aappa - http://www.infolanka.com/recipes/mess1/35.html