There is no such thing as a typical day in the office. Sometimes, it looks like this:
Kavi: Writing back to a potential volunteer (actually working)
Kyle: Eating a vegetable roti
Sometimes, it looks like this:
New volunteers: Shane, Luise, Shalina and Dave making their bones by sorting carpentry tools into the canvas bags.
Later that same day, they sorted out four kilos of nails into parcels of 50, wrapped in newspaper, one for each of the bags. By the end of the day, they hated this project…and possibly me as well.
Now that the tools are here and sorted, we need to be certain our information is up to date. This means going back to the camps to re-interview to see how many of the people are working as well as finding out if the needs have changed.
The good news is there aren’t many men in the camp during this day visit and that means most have found work. Many of the men on the original list as carpenters have found work as casual laborers and are most likely making less than they would if they had their own tools. We are currently working out a contract for them to sign so they can pay us back (an extremely nominal amount) to avoid the handout mentality and for the workers to retain some sense of dignity.
The bad news is, that in speaking to the women in the camp, almost all tell us they themselves have no skills. One woman after another told us that they had no way to contribute to the household. After some probing questions, almost every one of them alluded to their ability to sew, cook, weave, clean, do fine needle work or all of the above. Some expressed interest in fruit selling or being some other type of vendor. It’s bad news because they do not see these skills as valuable. The mere suggestion that their expertise could be put to use to better their lives and add to their family income is nothing short of culture shock for them.
My fondest wish for my remaining time here is to work with these women and formulate some type of cooperative venture wherein they can work from the camps (while keeping an eye on the kids) creating textile items and cooking to order and set some of them up as vendors of these items and services. I would also like to connect some of the younger women with some job training programs that we could pay for with donations. Right now, their only paradigm is to hook up with a man and make babies. Not that there’s anything wrong with that mind you, it’s just that I think it might be a good idea to not be a child anymore yourself before you raise a bunch of your own kids. I've seen enough pregnant teen-agers to last me several lifetimes. I have no illusions about changing or “westernizing” the socio-economic structure of these women’s lives, I wouldn't want to. I suppose I’d just like them to know they do have choices and opportunities if they wish to seize them…and if they don’t, fine, but their daughters should be encouraged to do so.
Well, that’s wandering pretty far afield of what the heck we are doing… The well was dug in Tissa, the one for the orphanage. Apparently it isn’t quite straight down and they can’t get the five inch submersible pump down far enough to be useful. We’re waiting for a four inch pump to come in. They are out of stock. Of course. Chris leaves on Thursday and is incredibly frustrated that this project won’t be done before he returns to England.
As soon as I finish this update, I’m writing a follow-up on the grant proposal to the Kandy Rotary. “Show Me The Money!” Actually, it will be a little more involved and eloquent than that. I hope. I did finish the Pastor's story of how the orphanage was founded and why. It's not great literature by any stretch, but I found it an interesting and difficult task to express the depth of emotion and affection we all have for Pastor Dayaratne, his wife and all the children.
We will be spending several days in the army warehouse (a story in itself) to collect a bunch of clothes and household items for some needy families in Batticoloa. The warehouse is in the old railyard and is the location for many of the items donated from around the world. It's under the direct control of the Sri Lankan army and one of our volunteers worked there right after the tsunami. She made friends with the Grand Pooh Bah General's wife (I never did get the "rank" thing down) and we have shamelessly exploited that relationship to acquire clothing and needs for various camps in Moratuwa. It's hot and ickky, but the families in Batticoloa need almost everything we can pull out of there. The army will provide trucks and deliver the items to the designated families. As it stands, we don’t have to accompany them, but they would like us to do so. I would love to see that part of the country, but the continued unrest makes the trip unlikely. I'll probably stay home and finish plumbing the outhouses for the Montessori school at the Molpe Buddhist Temple. Ah, the thrill! The glamour! The exhilaration!
They had intended to get married this past January, but Sri Lanka was so hard hit by the tsunami that their plans went on hold. For the past couple of months, Simone has been living with Kenney and his family here in Colombo. Kenney’s mom was getting increasingly distressed by their lack of haste in rescheduling their wedding…apparently she stopped feeding them. Drastic yes, but she elicited the desired response. They threw together a lovely wedding in about three weeks and during that time were being fed once again by Mrs. Wijesinghe. All the VI family chipped in and we booked them a lovely suite at the Taj Hotel for the weekend of the wedding. It worked out great since Simone had two of her brothers over from Australia and they too were staying at the Taj. Many of the women wore Saree’s (don’t…every joke, every pun done to death, believe me) and several guys wore sarongs. We had a great time and were all happy to be there for our wonderful, relatively new friends, Kenney and Simone.
