No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

On the day of the election, we had two new volunteers join us. Tom (from the U.S.) and Caroline (from New Zealand) arrived together after working for a time in an orphanage in Nepal; then traveling in India for a few weeks. Caroline was limping around due to a really horrible road rash incurred during her first (and possibly last) experience with a motor bike. The front of her right lower leg and foot was just one massive, infected boo-boo. I’m not generally squeamish, but it was painful just to look at this injury. As with most volunteers, they are traveling on a shoestring and spent the first couple of nights of their stay upstairs from me, in a room here at 49 Lionel Edirisinghe Mawatha. Watching Caroline hobble down the spiral staircase from above was downright scary. This is not the cheapest place to live in Colombo, so I took pity on them and offered them the extra bedroom until they figured out what they wanted to do. They were thinking of going down south to do some home building and were exploring their options while Caroline’s leg healed. She’s doing very nicely now and hardly limps at all thanks to liberal doses of Neosporin and some oral antibiotics…(available over the counter at pharmacies all over the place). Yep, she’s feeling pretty good now… just in time for Tom to come down with dengue fever. D’oh! Okay, this really stinks. Tom feels like he was used hard and put away dirty and every night breaks out in a fever and sweat for at least three hours. We’ve closed up the apartment to keep the mosquitoes out at all cost and I made Tom swear on his life to kill any of them that bite him. He will be having blood tests every day to test his platelet level or something like that and if it falls below a certain point, they’re going to slap him in a hospital room for a nice long stay. There is no cure for dengue, but with a lot of rest and proper hydration he should be fine in three to four weeks. I shall be very cross if I get dengue fever from one of his cootie ridden mosquitoes!

You've heard of Typhoid Mary, Here's Dengue Tom and his pal, Road-rash Caroline.

Thanksgiving...of sorts

So here’s the payback for humorously alluding to the outbreak of avian influenza in an earlier post, there are no turkeys being imported. Lino and I even went to the mondo Keels Supermarket at the Crescat Plaza and asked for a turkey in Sinhalese …only to be disappointed. Thanksgiving is over and will now be replaced with a “fill your pie-hole with pie” night. I still owe Dani a pumpkin pie and have the makings for a mincemeat and pecan pie (thanks mom). Now we just have to figure out when the hell I’m going to find time to make a bunch of pies!
I did manage to knock a couple of things off my list of things to do this weekend. I got Kenney set up with business cards. He’s a translator, driver and tour guide and I highly recommend him should you decide to come to Sri Lanka for a holiday. I also wrote and had witnessed a letter to the Australian High Commission urging them in my own inimitable style, to give my friend Kenney a visa, you knuckleheads. It was actually a bit more polite than that… I also had some generic business cards made up for the volunteers to use when dealing with vendors. As with many Asian countries, the exchange of business cards here borders on the ritualistic. I’ve spent the last several months feigning patting myself down and muttering, “Sorry I seem to be out of cards at the moment…” This is always followed by hastily scribbling my name and cell number on an errant scrap of paper or cocktail napkin. As you might imagine, this part of the ritual does nothing to instill confidence in my new business partner. I also roped my friend Jules into helping me dress up the Café Press site since it’s deadly boring the way it is currently. Jules knows HTML and is generously donating her practical skills and artistic vision to this project. If you go there right now to purchase items either for yourself or as Christmas gifts, I will NOT consider it an endorsement for the site the way it appears now…it will soon be better…I promise. Go pick up a tote bag for Aunt Mavis; I defy any gift recipient to dislike a gift that helps out a charitable organization. Gift with confidence…be sure to check out the wall calendar, it has beautiful pictures… go on…
http://www.cafepress.com/helpingvi

The first thing I need to do this morning is get a do-it list together for my remaining few weeks here. Max left last week and unpleasantly discovered that a large gift she had intended to ship home, would not be accepted by the U.S.P.O. Apparently, Sri Lanka is on some list somewhere that indicates parcels from here will not be allowed into the U.S.
Just what am I supposed to do with all this stuff? Nephews and nieces will be glad to hear that the preliminary plan is to pack all the gifts first, throw a clean pair of underwear in a manila envelope and leave everything else behind.

The Kate Lynch Flora and Fauna Corner

In honor of getting an email from Kate, I decided to revisit the Flora and Fauna Corner. This is a picture of a king coconut tree. It was taken on location during a saree commercial shoot. (long story…) The local guys use a length of rope a couple of feet long with loops on each end for their feet, to shinny up to the top and cut off the ripe coconuts. These are sold all over the place. The vendors cut the top off at an angle with several whacks from a machete. They stick a straw in the top and voila... you have a ready to drink container with coconut milk inside. The milk is believed to have medicinal properties and can settle the stomach. This claim is yet to be proven with me, as I don’t like the taste and it had the opposite effect. Perhaps I’ll try one again now that it’s cooling off a bit and they aren’t sitting around in 90 degree plus heat.

Put de lime in de coconut...drink em bo' together...

But I Just Got My Nails Done...

Today was the presidential Election here in Sri Lanka. I am secretly hoping the guy that promised everyone a cow wins, but it’s not likely. I visited 20 polling places with several members of The Centre for Society and Religion; a local NGO. There were two women from the office that did most of the heavy lifting, my German friend, Kristina, is interning with this group and she got me involved and came with us as well. Kristina’s English is improving by leaps and bounds, but her Sinhalese is worse than mine. We got these cool PAFFREL armbands, hats and I.D.’s but were pretty much relegated to standing around and being stared at by the poll workers. As a rule, most of the big kahunas at the polling places were happy to see us and answer our standard questions…have you had any incidents; how’s the turnout; how many parties are represented by the workers at the polls…etc. One guy, about mid-day, started to get snarky with one of our fellow monitors. The gist of his comments was that he didn’t have to answer any of our questions and was told by the electorate commission not to cooperate with us. I admit, I was sort of wool-gathering at this point, but got a very unsubtle elbow in the side from one of my fellow observers. I had no idea at the time what this Machiavellian little power monger was saying, but I sure didn’t like his tone of voice. When he stopped to take a breath, I asked rather loudly, “Just what seems to be the problem here?” My colleagues smiled and started to tell me in halting English that this fellow didn’t wish to give us any information. I frowned, waved my hand in an imperious manner and walked off appearing to be dialing my cell phone. Apparently, he was much more helpful after that. You just never know when a background in theater is going to come in handy.

Rule number one: Always ask the highly trained professionals with the automatic weapons first if it's okay to enter the polling area.

(We were not allowed to take photos. This is from the Assosciated Press)

All in all, it was a lot like an election in America…but without Florida. The polls were only open from 7:00 a.m. until 4:00 p.m. Apparently violence has marred so many of the elections here that the goal is to finish up and scamper home as soon as possible and definitely before dark. One other interesting difference is the permanent marker used to color the tip and nail of the left pinky finger. It keeps anyone that might be inclined, from voting more than once. They also have separate lines for men and women. I honestly don’t know why, women have had the vote here since 1931. They also indicate in the rather confusing instructions to the voters, that they can mark a first, second and third choice on their ballot. No one I spoke to seems to know why…I posited that perhaps it was like Miss America, “If, for any reason, our newly crowned Miss America is unable to fulfill her duties, the title will fall to the first runner up…” Maybe? These and other questions I hope to have answered by my continued close scrutiny of the local news.
The quote of the day is shared by me and Brigid. We were in the van on the way to our first polling place and she was reviewing the question checklist with me since it was all in Sinhalese. She got about halfway down the list and read the following: “Has anyone been killed during the polling? That…..that….that…uh…” At which point I interjected, “That would be bad.” “Um, yes.” Kristina started to crack up, but managed to stop herself and disguise it with a cough.
So far, it looks like it has gone without incident, but we have been instructed to lie low the next day as well since there may be unhappy citizens about when the results are announced.

Emma and Maxine in the Deep End...

We have a couple of new volunteers with some great ideas. Emma is Dani’s “Cool Cousin” from England. Since I never grew up around my cousins, I don’t have a “Cool Cousin,” Em says she’ll be my “Cool Cousin” as well. Maxine is from Idaho and an extremely well traveled recent retiree. These two are completely delightful people. As Max so wisely observed, “I guess it’s a fair assumption that only really nice people do this sort of thing.” You got that right and back at ya Max!
We are always trying to think of ways to make money for our projects. Greeting cards is a pre-existing idea that got shelved a while ago, but we’re taking it out of mothballs one more time. Em and Max picked up some elephant dung paper (yep, you read that right) and cut it up to see if we could get the kids at the camps, Molpe temple and the orphanage to make some note cards. After diligent P&L research, we’ll bundle them all off to our former volunteers to sell to friends and family. Then we’ll branch off into placemats, bookmarks, stickers, collages and calendars until the Montessori is funded for 100 years; all the orphans find families and no one lives in a refugee camp anymore. What can I tell you, I’m having a “glass half full” kind of day.

Maxine and Emma about to be surrounded by 45 kids and their kibbitzing mothers.

Em and Max did some shopping for paper and comprehensive rifling through the art supplies we already had on hand. When they came up with the paint, Lino and I just sort of looked at each other and smiled. You see, paint in the hands of over-stimulated children that don’t speak your language and outnumber you 15:1 can be a recipe for disaster. The only way it could've ended worse than it did, is if we had added sugar to the mix somehow. We all live and learn, and I knew that this was something they really did have to experience. I could have tried to convince them not to do it, but that would have conflicted with my current role of "Ms. Positive." I love the fact that they persevered and we have some beautiful paintings to use on our cards. Of course, some of them are stuck together because they didn’t dry properly and many of our young friends like to emulate the style of Paul Klee, but they really are terrific. We started out with a wonderful project designed and prepared by our former volunteer Deana Hmoud. She had the idea to cut out 5x5 inch pieces of paper and having each child draw something to be part of a taped together “quilt”. They loved it and I loved it mostly because it involved crayons only!

Thanks Deana, this was a very fun workshop!

Standby for originally created cards made out of elephant dung paper. Meanwhile, I have opened an online store where purchases can be made that will support our work here: http://www.cafepress.com/helpingvi
As will be immediately obvious, I am NOT a graphic designer. The commission on the items will be paid directly into our discretionary account for our ongoing projects. Wear the logo, and if anyone asks you about Volunteer International, give them my email address or the URL of the blog. Why not do all your Christmas shopping here? Stay home in your jammies and avoid the malls totally! Fair warning to my friends not in the US, the postage can be onerous, so you’d best order a lot of stuff to make it worthwhile.

Can you come back tomorrow?

As usual, anything you can do to help is deeply appreciated!

If Elected, I Will Not Serve...

We are about to have a presidential election here in Sri Lanka. There’s something like thirteen candidates, but most people can only name two. While perusing the morning paper the other day, I read about one candidate that if elected, promised to give every Sri Lankan family their own cow. Said cows are to be purchased with his personal fortune. Apparently, he is the founder and scion of a massive herbal medicine empire. (think Ross Perot) I don’t know… “A cow in every pot” just doesn’t sound right to me but it’s probably my own cultural bias at play. The article went on to explain about how cows make milk and how milk is an important part of the daily nutritional needs for children... Enough said. Any excess dairy products could be turned into cheese and curd for the family to sell... No doubt to each other. Good idea. I was wondering, if you suffer from lactose intolerance, maybe you could get a pig or something else instead.

Snatch the ballot from my hoof, Grasshopper...

I’m planning to work as a poll monitor on Election Day. It should be interesting. Apparently visible white/western faces help keep various seditious groups away from their usual intimidation at the polls. We’ll see. So far the run-up to the election has been relatively uneventful. It does depend upon which news source you access. Very often, I’ll be reading the paper and come across something that I believe to be patently untrue. I usually turn to Lino and ask, “Is this the pro UNP newspaper or the SLFP rag? Who are the Buddhist monks siding with again?” It’s very confusing but no less entertaining than any of our recent elections in the US. I have suggested to anyone that will listen that they should allow the state of Florida to vote simply to enhance the amusement value. I think it’s a great idea, since you can never have too many scapegoats. So far there aren’t any takers.

My own pups are IDDs!

That’s Internally Displaced Dogs. My most excellent friend, Jennifer Petschke, has been caring for my boys while I’m in Sri Lanka. She has recently been accused of trying to license them in a town, not their own. The town of Sweden has further threatened to sic (pun intended) the dog warden on them! Good luck finding them in Brighton. As it happens, I know the Sweden dog warden and she, Harvey and Beau are fast friends. Occasionally, Harv would manage to get off his dog run and head up to K&K for some hot wings and a malt liquor. (Man, can he run up a tab…”It’s okay, my person is good for it.”) This always results in Harv ending up drying out at the pound on White Road; hurling up chicken bones and trying to suck up to me as I bail him out. Beau is just…well…Beau. Originally procured as a “thinking brain dog” for Harv, he has proven to be almost as stupid.

When he was a little pup, he liked to sit on top of my head to watch the nightly news. I can’t remember why I ever thought this was a good idea. Regrettably, my head did not keep pace with his inevitable growth. Undeterred, he continued to try to sit on my head at every opportunity; always resulting in uncontrollable laughter from my brother Doug.

Beau, trying to reach the top of my head, “Hey, Down in front! I’m watching Law & Order here!”

Harv the wonder dog, as in: "I wonder what stupid thing I’ll do next!"

Harvey really is very patient with Beau and is an excellent big beagle brother. I’m sure Jennifer’s dogs; Hannah and Syd; are very anxious for them to come home so they can have their person all to themselves again. It’s the people in my life like Jennifer that helped me to know for certain that this was the right thing for me to do at the right time. If she had been unable to take in my boys, I don’t know who would have stepped up to care for them. If I hadn’t felt secure that they are safe and sound, I wouldn’t have been able to pick up and go as I did. Jen, you are a true friend and I owe you BIG TIME. Love to you all, have a rawhide on me.

Happy Birthday John-Boy!

Here is my nephew, John, in Uncle Rich and Aunt Kates' basement doing the color for a heated air hockey match. He's about to get bunny ears courtesy of his cousin Erik. If you see him, wish him a happy birthday. The irony of this little devil being born on All Saint's Day has not gone unnoticed. I'm saving some special birthday noogies for you, so stand by in December...you'll get them when you least expect it. I love you Jonathan, many happy returns of the day! Aunt Sue

Native English speakers have no right to complain...

So there I am at the orphanage, minding my own business; when I get asked by a fairly advanced student of English; why don’t the English words “come” and “home” sound alike if they look alike? Good question. My short answer is always, “Because I didn’t make the rules!” If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have things like: There, Their, They’re; or Two, Too, To; or Pear, Pair, Pare; or Write, Wright, Right… That’s just wrong!
When I’m listening to my friends Janaka, Roy or Christina struggle with their English pronunciation, I’m always reminded of the David Sedaris essay: Me talk pretty one day.
(Ooooooh, the grammar checker didn’t like that one bit!) He is a brilliant comedic writer and his books are laugh out loud funny.
Seriously, how the hell did I ever learn English? It’s a wacky language. At least in Sinhala, the letters correspond directly to sounds. Once you know your letters, you can speak it. (Bearing firmly in mind that unless you learn the meaning of the words, you could still have no idea what you’re saying) There’s this really strange thing happening to me, I’m starting to understand spoken Sinhalese. Lately, when Lino and Janaka are yukking it up in Sinhalese, I laugh in all the right places. I actually understand what they are talking about sometimes with absolutely no contextual reference. I mentioned this to Dani, and she reminded me of the conversations she has been having with her aunts’ maid, Chandra. When they speak, Chandra carries on in Sinhalese and Dani speaks in English, and they seem to understand each other perfectly. Odd that.
Due to years of French classes in pursuit of my B.A., I have a ton of latent French lurking just beneath the surface as well. (Merci, Mme. Siegel) When I’m flustered, my instructions to a tuk-tuk driver can be a bit…um…idiomatic. Instead of saying: “turn right here.” or “la droite de turn ici” or “dhah-ku-nah-tah har-ren-nah” sometimes it comes out as “ turn dhah-ku-nah-tah ici”. Since I barely comprehend it myself, this absolutely guarantees that no one else will understand a thing I say. What they do understand is that they need to get rid of the insanely laughing white woman asap.
I have a very unflattering picture of me, (I am not sharing) in obvious distress, caught red-handed trying to explain the vagaries and vicissitudes of the English language to a 16 year old. ( this thanks to a Japanese relief worker that took the picture and wasted a ton of bandwidth to send it to me...) I always start by complimenting them on the insightful nature of their original question, at which point I ask them to repeat it. This usually gives me time to ramble through my mental rolodex of grammar rules. More often than not, I can actually come up with a better answer than, “Blame the British…there’s one now…”
“Okay kids, always remember, ‘I before E except after C…uh, forget that with neighbor and weigh’; ‘the principal is your –pal-’; never end a sentence with a preposition and don’t split your infinitives, it’s rude.” Reviewing vocabulary words is always a convenient fall back position:
Comb…Tomb…D’oh!