I think my blogger wa is back...

So today, blogger thinks it would be okay if I downloaded some pictures! It's a mystery as to why it refuses to work sometimes. Here are the pictures that were originally intended to go with the tool distribution story:

Two of my young friends from the camp help with those hard to reach places in the van.

Simone left her husband Kenney with the sign up list in the camp, then brought back the carpenters about five at a time to collect their tools.

Me with my helpers, Dushan, Eshan, Akila, Sameera and Sashi. While we handed out tools, they taught me the Sinhalese words for sun, moon, east, west, north, south, ocean and several body parts. They drew the line when I tried to count, I'm not sure I completely understood him, but Dushan seemed to be convinced I'd never get it. He was probably right.

Here is the drawing for the generic cart...it's actually easier to follow up close and personal.

I’m just sitting here grinning like an idiot…

Today was the first really big distribution of tools to the carpenters at the Playground camp in Moratuwa. Finally, after all the price checking; visits to Pettah; ordering the bags and tools; sorting the tools; endless interviewing…just…everything! Our old friend, Bongo the Mazda van, came out of semi-retirement to get us and the tools to Moratuwa. It wouldn’t be a day with Bongo without car trouble, so he obligingly crapped out on us on our way to the Molpe temple. It was to be our first stop of the day, but Bongo had other ideas. Once we were underway again, we collectively made the executive decision to bag the temple visit and proceed forthwith to lunch at our favorite Sri Lankan buffet place. Hey, that’s why we get the big bucks! Simone wisely observed that since we were reunited with Bongo for the day, we should only do happy things, like give out tools.
We were able to distribute about forty sets of tools to the various family members in the camp. Our information gathering jaunts served us well and we came with a list of those people we wanted to receive sets of tools. Each set was signed for by either the carpenter him/herself, or a member of their family. We worked closely with the straw boss type leaders of the camp to ensure our efforts would not create a rift or conflict of any kind. You see, it’s difficult to arrive at a camp with something for only some of the survivors. Those who get nothing, feel left out and before we even indicated what we were going to do, we asked if this would present a problem. These are really great folks and they worked it all out amongst themselves. We now plan to follow up with more interviewing and as quickly as possible, help out those in different professions. Some will require more funding than others. For instance, there is a welder in the camp and we need to find out which type of welding he does; arc welding or oxy-acetylene. Either way, the funding needed to bring him up to speed will be greater than what we need for a bicycle repairman. Several of the women could work as seamstresses, and sewing machines are going to be more expensive for us to procure than the tools for a glazier. Our other goal as we move on to these other tradespeople, is to try to foster an atmosphere wherein they are incentivized to teach their trade to a young person in the camp.
The next step is to commission our carpenters to build vendor carts for the dozen plus would be vendors in the camp. These ubiquitous carts all have a basic design and materials list and can be modified with spidled racks to sell toys; tiered shelves for fruit and aluminum sheeting on the base and lights for fish vendors. (In all honesty, some fish vendors would do better without the added illumination.) I drafted plans and will provide the stuff they need directly to the carpenters.
I was trying to put some pictures here, but Blogger appears to be in cahoots with Bongo and has decided that I won't be uploading squat in the way of pictures this evening. Reminds me of something one of my profs once told me, "Don't anthropomorphize computers, they hate it." Whatever. I'll try again later, but it has wiped some of that silly grin off my face.
It was a great day and thanks go to all the volunteers who have come and gone who all helped in one way or another: Chris, Dani, Kyle, Phoebe, Nina, Deana, Dave, Shalina, Shane, (Shane's cousin, damn I wish I could remember his name) Luise, Kenney, Simone, Nikki, Jayantha, Linda, Christina, Maria and especially Lino, our own straw boss.

A Couple of corrections to the Brockport Post story

Volunteer International has no fee for tsunami relief work. The fee schedule is for the interns seeking job placement and work experience. Since the tsunami, the VI office has merely facilitated the work of relief volunteers and rendered local backup. We are here with our own money and paying our own way.

Um...it was a tsunami...not a storm. Understandable since we've got storms on the brain.

It's the "back to work" program not the "back to school" program.

There are internet cafes all over the place, they just don't always work properly.

The astute among you will notice I removed "The Pastor's Story" from the Blog. Short version is, I slept on it and decided it was not really for public consumption since it deals with rather disturbing subject matter. I can send it to you if you wish, just leave a comment or e-mail and I'll do so.

This one’s for you Chris…

My favorite picture of Chris.

Even though he left us here in Sri Lanka a couple of weeks ago to return for his last year at University, we still feel Chris Irwin’s presence. Chris has many accomplishments to his credit during his time here with VI: The land speed record for a round trip to Thissamaharama in a “dodgy” van; (hereafter referred to as “Bongo”); possibly the world record for the most chicken roti eaten at one sitting; ironically compensating a bicyclist and motorcycle rider on two different occasions for hitting him while he was driving; (this earned Chris the nickname “pay as you go bike magnet”) and showing miraculous restraint in not bitch slapping a particular member of the local religious community who pretty much deserved it.

Chris is an excellent driver. One needs to be here in Colombo, as the traffic is in my opinion one of Dante’s circles of hell. As I recall, it's the first level of the seventh circle, but it’s been a while since I read The Inferno. Chris is one of those safely reckless drivers and whenever we had a new volunteer in the van with us cringing at the near misses and trying to casually look around for the seat belts, (there are none) I would always say, “Relax, you’re safe as in your mothers’ arms!” Sometimes after a close call I’d shout out, “White man driving!” or “Sorry, we’re not from around here.” Chris, you’ll be happy to know that during my short stint driving Bongo in your absence, I completed the hat trick and sent a third biker ass over tea kettle on Elvitagala Mawatha. (He came out of nowhere just like always) Thus ending my career driving in Colombo, he was okay and yes…I fully compensated him.

Chris was instrumental in getting the well dug at the orphanage in Tissa as alluded to earlier in the blog. I went in person today to the pump place to speak with our old friend there about the infamous backordered submersible pump. It is now backordered for an additional 4-6 weeks. I made my (now patented) “bitterly disappointed” face and mentioned how sad it was the ORPHANS didn’t have a ready supply of water; how great it would be if his guys in Hambantota could get a temporary refurbished pump to help out the ORPHANS; and that I’m sure all the ORPHANS would be really grateful. You know the drill, he toddled off to the owner and said ORPHANS a few times and now they are installing a temporary pump until the elusive backordered one arrives. Like I always say, baby steps toward immortality. It’s not the final solution, but it is a temporary one. Just wanted to keep you abreast of goings on here and tell you I really miss you, ya big lug!

Pleasantville…NOT!

Today, we spent much of our day at the Office of the Divisional Secretariat for Moratuwa. Now that the army has pulled out of their role as supervisors in the refugee camps, the civil authority has taken over. You know what that means. More paperwork! We were informed that we needed an official letter with the signature and stamp of the Divisional Secretariat in order to gain access to the camps. This involved us providing them with a detailed schedule of our expected camp visits; a complete list of our volunteers and a meticulous accounting of our anticipated activities.
True to form, it’s some of the greatest fiction ever written. Newer volunteers were aghast at the audacity of putting down the names of current and past volunteers: Ben Dover; Cody Pendant; Duane Pipes; Emma Wroids; Faye Slift; Helen Back; Justin Case…you get the picture. Why you may ask? Simple, I take perverse pleasure in knowing that somewhere in Sri Lanka, tucked into a file that will never again see the light of day, is a list of funny names that no one here will ever “get”. What can I say? The TV here is crap.
We got our Official Letter. One other requirement was sussing out the Older Lady In The Office That Knows Everything. You know who I’m talking about. There is always one woman in every office, everywhere in the world that is the only one that does any real work and knows where everything is. We went in; we found her; we got the letter and we got out without leaving anyone behind.
We ventured on to the camp at Koralawella Mawatha where we did some more interviewing and Dave was hell-bent to play cricket with the kids. It’s an odd game that appears to go on forever and is punctuated by exuberant displays of delight as a result of weirdly unrelated incidents. I don’t get it. I actually think I understand rugby better…but that might have been the beer.

Amusing Rugby Anecdote #1:
While watching my first rugby match, Colombo vs. Kandy (allegedly a very heated rivalry) the players warmed up in their undershirts. When the Kandy team trotted out onto the field for the game they had their jerseys on and after seeing the backs of about four of them I commented, “Wow! Check it out! They’ve all got the same last name!” How was I to know that “Singer” was their sponser? Now, whenever I have a clueless moment, my fellow volunteers say to me, “Yes, and I’m sure Mrs. Singer is very proud.” I hate them sometimes.

Amusing Rugby Anecdote #2:
The real problem with this anecdote is that no one except my friend Dani and I find it funny. We were watching another match one day with Chris and Kyle (I forgot who was playing, but suffice it to say, Dani and I were both bored out of our minds) One team had those jerseys with the wide black and yellow horizontal stripes, and I murmured sarcastically under my breath, “I love it when they dress like little bees.” See, not funny. But it makes Dani giggle every time I say it.

Oh yeah, Pleasantville… sometimes being here is like stepping back into the fifties. Be honest with yourself, when was the last time you saw ANYONE use carbon paper? It’s a way of life around here. It’s like we moved on to the sixties and sent all our office furniture and accoutrements to Sri Lanka. There are of course modern offices with copiers and computers and printers and such, it’s just that it’ll be another couple of decades before it trickles down to municipal offices and the like.

Hurricane Katrina

I take it all back. Earlier on, during the horrific rains that inundated Mumbai India, I was critical of the lapse in planning and infrastructure that allowed so many to perish. It would seem that the U.S. government can turn a natural disaster into an even bigger cluster. Many people have editorialized about this issue far better than I ever could. My friend, Sue Hughes, sent me an editorial by Maureen Dowd of the New York Times:
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/09/03/opinion/03dowd.html

My friend, Deana Hmoud, was in Sri Lanka for her brothers wedding when the tsunami struck and on September 2nd added this to her blog:
http://deanasworld.blogspot.com/

My brother Dave does intake and advisement stuff for the Monroe County Department of Human Services in New York. (read: a thankless job) He dashed off a very quick e-mail to me to say, “Come home we need you here.” Apparently they were inundated with folks from New Orleans that got out ahead of the storm seeking food and emergency shelter. Before the scope of the devastation reached me, I glibly wrote back, “Sure, how many pinatas do you need? We’ll get right on it.”
I apologize. I, like so many other Americans, naturally thought that in the post 9/11 world of “homeland security” we would have contingency plans in place for a disaster like this.
I don’t want to beat a dead horse, I’m sure there is 24/7 coverage of this in the U.S. (now) Oh, and just for the record, on the “refugee” debate, a refugee is someone seeking refuge. Why are we wasting our breath on nomenclature?
Just let me close by saying every average American that does anything to relieve the pain and suffering of a survivor of Katrina; Dave, for helping the IDPs (Internally Displaced Persons); Andy Johnson for going to Biloxi with his chain saw; Sue Mayne for being a gentle, sympathetic, caring voice on the phone for insurance policy holders; you are my heros.

The “We Can’t Have Anything Nice” Department

Spammers are evil and should be destroyed. Apparently, when you list your blog for anyone to see…anyone can see it. Duh. Well, I’ve started getting these unsolicited “comments” from people trying to sell me things: Don’t need any Viagra, thanks…or companionship for that matter…I also no longer own a house that needs refinancing.
I hate it when one person spoils it for everybody. Now you can leave a comment on the blog, but you need to log in a user name and repeat back to blogger the weird word as shown in the funhouse mirror thing. I love getting the comments and the folks at blogger will never bug you.
So, with the hit counter edging toward 900, who the heck are you people anyway? Leave a comment, even if you meant to look up “snakes of the amazon” (see, now that I entered that, they will all come here by accident) My bad.

Kulture Korner

There is this very hinky affectation that all native Sri Lankans have, I call it the “Bobble Head”. You know those weird little bobble head dolls they give away at baseball games? I guess they’re collectables, but don’t go by me. Anyway, from a very early age, Sri Lankans are instructed in the fine art of bobbling. It’s neither a nod nor a shake, rather both done at the same time. Try it…it’s really hard! Think about doing both things at once with your head while keeping your nose in sort of the same place. It essentially means, “Yes” “Okay” “I’m Listening” “Please Continue…” It’s often misconstrued by westerners, new to Sri Lanka as, “No way Jose!” If it’s done with enough vigor, “Yo Mama!”

I’m trying to get my friend Kenney to teach me, but he can’t do it at all if he’s trying, so it has to be totally subconscious. (I ask him anyway, because he blushes and starts laughing) Janaka, my favorite tuk-tuk driver, is a master of the bobble. He is trying to teach me in exchange for me coaching him with his English. So far, he can say: “Damn Skippy”; (it sounds like Dan Skibby when Janaka says it) “Outstanding” (owstanind) and we’re currently working on “Yah, Sure, Youbetcha, Snookums,” done with a Minnesota-nice accent. For two people that can’t really communicate with each other, we sure do have a great time. I wish I could paste a video onto the blog, so you could see the bobble heads in all their glory as well as their natural habitat.

Janaka, tuk-tuk driver extraordinaire, Ph.d. in Head Bobbling...Damn Skippy!

So what the heck are you doing?

I get this question a lot...

There is no such thing as a typical day in the office. Sometimes, it looks like this:

Chris: “resting his eyes” waiting for a vendor to call back.
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!

Another good excuse to update the blog...

I’m at home, resting my knee after going white water rafting on Sunday. We rafted on a grade 3 part of the Kelani river in Kitagula. Since it’s pretty much impossible to take pictures while rafting (unless, of course, you have a death wish or helmet cam) you’ll just have to watch the film, Bridge on the River Kwai. All the exteriors for the film were shot on this location in 1957 when Sri Lanka was still known as Ceylon. It is the most incredible place I’ve been so far, adjectives that come to mind are: steamy; tropical; dense; lush; verdant and downright primordial. It’s the kind of setting, that if you were there alone, you could actually believe you were the only person on earth.
Good for me I wasn’t alone. The entire week prior, my fellow volunteers expended an inordinate amount of time convincing me to go with them. I explained that having seen the destructive force of the tsunami, I’m just not a big fan of fast moving water…okay… I fear it. Someone said, “There’s a technical term for that phobia, isn’t there?” I said, “Yeah, ‘drowning’.” Chris promised me that nothing bad would happen to me. He is one of those extreme sport type of guys and actually teaches people how to do weird stuff like this. He is about to finish his degree in Geography and Outdoor Recreation at his “Uni” in Liverpool. I then tried the fallback position of, “My insurance doesn’t cover this adventure kind of stuff.” I got nowhere fast with that one.
So I went. Armed with a Personal Floatation Device (I am forever going to spell that out and capitalize it) a helmet that did nothing for my hairdo and my prescription sunglasses attached to me with croakies, we climbed aboard. Once we bridged the communication gap with our guide: “Right side forward; left side back…relax.” (I can’t tell my right from my left without pretending to eat) we were off. It was very beautiful and relaxing for about seven minutes and if my constant chant of, “Iwillnotdrown, Iwillnotdrown, Iwillnotdrown,” bothered any of my fellow paddlers, they didn’t let on.
We were soaked by the first set of rapids and stopped about halfway to swim a bit. Then we went through the most intense rapids of the course. It was thrilling and we all came out the other side whooping and laughing. We came upon one of the final, and by all reports, most benign sets of rapids, when the other side of the raft bumped into a rock and I flipped right out into the river. I swallowed a little water but somehow hung onto my paddle. It was actually while getting back into the boat (sometime later) that I smacked my knee against a rock. True to his word, Chris didn’t let anything bad (worse?) happen to me. He jumped right in with a couple of the guides to fish me out.
Swollen knee aside, we all had a really great time. Afterwards, there was a buffet lunch at the nearby hotel where we ate like we all had hollow legs.

Maria after lunch, looks too tired to drive home.

Chris and Dani are about to fall asleep too.

Meanwhile, Kyle (I could eat...) Pinjuv contemplates a fourth trip to the buffet table.

Kulture Korner: (a new feature to the blog)

How to tell if a Brit and an American are sharing a kitchen…

How to tell if the Brit in question, is in fact an Irishman...

Holy Matrimony! Three Updates In One Day!

I would be remiss to wander off the blog today without mention of the wedding I attended last weekend. Fellow volunteers, Simone Gardner and Kenney Wijesinghe got married last Sunday in a beautiful Buddhist ceremony. Here’s the happy couple:
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.

Lakshman Kadirgamar

On our way back to Colombo, late at night on August 12th, we were stopped at military checkpoints. Apparently, the Foreign Minister of Sri Lanka; Lakshman Kadirgamar; had been assassinated only an hour or so earlier and anyone on the road in Colombo was considered a “person of interest”. The president, Chandrika Kumaratunga, declared a nationwide state of emergency that remains in effect a week later. There have been sporadic violent incidents in the north and east and Colombo has been plastered with posters, some inciting further acts of insurrection while most are simply tributes to the slain foreign minister and exhortations for peace to prevail. We have bookmarked and check in often with the American Embassy and British High Commission websites. There are many brave people here and around the world working to insure the peace here in Sri Lanka, join me in sending good vibes their way. I have found the Sri Lankan people to be completely charming and deferential to a fault to westerners. We are pretty much carrying on with business as usual; not jaywalking; helping little old ladies across the street; producing our passports when asked; stimulating the local economy and doing everything the guys in uniform tell us to. We'll be just fine.

It's Poya day, time for a massive update to the blog...

It has been such a hectic couple of weeks, it somehow seems appropriate to end it with an officially declared state of emergency. We all ran around like nut heads on Monday the 8th and Tuesday the 9th because we had scheduled a short vacation to Pinnawela and Kandy for the Perahera starting on Wednesday.
Pinnawela is the site of an elephant orphanage. We were there in time to watch them all bathe in the river and it was really amazing. After you watch them for a little while, you can really see that they all have very distinct personalities. One “bad boy” elephant was brought to the river but was segregated from the others. Every time his handler started to wander off, the elephant would reach out with his trunk and curl it around his arm or leg to keep him from leaving. I’ll attach several pictures to the blog, it’s an incredible place.

From Pinnawela we went to Kandy for the Perahera. The Perahera is a procession of elephants, dancers and drummers from the five Buddhist temples in the town. I could describe it here, but you’re better off following the link. Here are a couple of pictures:

We stayed at the Thilanka Hotel in Kandy. It’s a lovely place where the terrace doors are clearly marked with signs that say: “Beware of Monkeys; KEEP ALL DOORS LOCKED” Well, of course they didn’t mean us! I was sharing a double room with my friend Kyle and in our infinite wisdom, we decided we would be okay cracking the door because we had it on good authority that the monkeys don’t ever go out at night… Note to self: If you stay up talking with your friends until 2:00 in the morning, the monkeys may not be awake when you go to bed; but chances are, they will be up and around well before you are.
At almost exactly 7:00 a.m. I heard a huge crash, woke up and thought to myself, {What the heck is Kyle doing up at this hour and why is he making so much noise?} When I opened my eyes, all I saw was the back of Kyle’s head…and he was obviously still asleep…uh oh. When I sat up to suss out the noise, there were six monkeys in our room in various stages of robbing us blind! They were all staring at me, they then turned to the monkey sitting on the television. Apparently he had made the huge noise by throwing my camera on the floor…D’oh, you woke her up you knucklehead! Did you know that monkeys like film? Well one of these guys had dumped out a box of 35mm film rolls into Kyle’s knapsack; pulled the film out of one of the canisters and was chewing on it. His buddy was digging around in the knapsack to find another when I turned to Kyle and said, “Kyle, Kyle…Kyle, wake up… there are monkeys in our room.” He sat up, stared at the monkeys; reached for his glasses; put them on; took them off to examine them (clearly fearing that I had painted monkeys on them during the night) put them back on and then burst out laughing. We were just sitting in bed laughing at them when the ringleader decided that a strategic withdrawl was in order. He did however, still want some film, so he dragged the knapsack to the sliding doors and tried desperately to pull the lengthwise knapsack through a nine inch opening. They’ve got the opposable thumb thing going on but that higher reasoning stuff remains elusive. At the prospect of losing his knapsack, Kyle sprang into action. Making shooing noises and motions, he slowly walked toward the monkeys until they filed out of the room (turning around occasionally to give us malicious looks) forever earning Kyle the nickname “monkey-fighter”. They went to the next terrace over which happened to be the room Chris and Dani were sharing. It was also where we had left several empty beer bottles and a glass. Did you know that monkeys like beer? One of them sniffed the glass; ran his hand all over the inside; licked off his hand and threw the glass over his shoulder to the ground several floors below. All the beer bottles were then smashed and the insides of the glass licked clean. It’s official, monkeys are not very good house guests. Miraculously, my camera was still working and we took several pictures (once they were safely out on the terrace with the door locked). We were laughing so hard, I couldn’t go back to sleep. I went down to breakfast and giggled through two cups of tea and the morning paper. I will never forget it.

******NEWSFLASH*******

Dateline: Colombo, Sri Lanka

My brother Bob finally e-mailed me. Primarily to inform me that my brother Dave is a "suck-up".

The Lemonade Brigade

Left to Right on the grass: Molly Rich, Myles Rich, Kailan Johnson; In the foldy chair: Riley Johnson; and my apple sauce and spaghetti sauce making buds: Joel and Gerritt Mora.

The Lemonade Brigade to the Rescue

Check this out! My homies back in beautiful downtown Brockport had a yard sale and gave away free lemonade to thirsty shoppers for their donation to Volunteer International! These kids raised enough money ($52.68, with some additional help from the Rich family) to outfit two carpenters with a complete set of tools. How complete?

See for yourself:
1 Large Wooden Plane
1 Small Wooden Plane
1 11 lb Claw Hammer
1 22 inch Hand Saw
1 8 inch Screw Driver
1 ¼ inch Wood Chisel
1 ½ inch Wood Chisel
1 1 inch Wood Chisel
1 3/8 inch Hand Drill
1 Emery Stone (w/ oil)
1 8 inch Combination Pliers
1 12 inch Spirit Level
1 Hanging Level
1 Kilo of Coated Nails

The above listed stuff comes to a grand total of 2,360 rupees ($23.46 USD) See what I mean about stuff being so much cheaper to purchase over here? The carpenters are sort of my special project and I found a tool wholesaler in the market area of Colombo, Pettah. The owner of Asean (sic) Industrial Tradeways was intrigued by this middle aged white broad coming in to talk tools with him. He’s really a sweetheart and he brought a complete set of the tools all the way across town to the VI offices. I ordered fifty sets and had some very sturdy canvas bags made that would be big enough to hold all the tools.
Thanks to the kids, two more carpenters are getting back to work! Thanks guys!

The Soon To Be Renamed Kate Lynch Flora & Fauna Corner:

Kate...are you out there? Well...anyway, they have very cool trees here. It is not unusual to see one popping up out of a building that was built around it. The Bo tree is very special to the people of Sri Lanka as it is believed that Buddha received enlightenment while sitting beneath its branches.

Jake and Maria talk to the people at the Periliya camp. We hope to help them with our back to work program.

Dear Brother Who Writes to Me...

My brother Dave, also known as the only brother that e-mails me, wrote to ask about the torrential rains in India, express his concern and ask if we were being spared in Sri Lanka. Dave is such a sweet guy, he’s the only one that writes you know, I’m sure he won’t mind if I plagiarize myself for the blog.
In Mumbai (Bombay, India) and here we're in the middle of monsoon season. Actually that's not quite correct since "monsoon" is the word for "season", but whatever. It rains. A lot. Real hard! Part of providing aid to a developing country is what I'm starting to call "The D'oh factor".
“Wow, would you look at that! 38 inches of rain in 24 hours! I guess we really should update the sewer and drainage infrastructure somehow...since it did that last year and every year before that too!”
D'oh!
Dammit, why can't we spend some aid money on INFRASTRUCTURE! I guess it's just not sexy to say you donated money to build roads and sewer systems. Most of the time there is help available but it can't get to where it is most needed. How many countless lives have been lost simply because food and supplies never get to the people that need it the most?
Deep breath.....
I know what you're thinking. Yes, there are hurricanes in Florida, but there are also building codes and laws about evacuation in place that almost guarantee no one will ride out a serious storm in a mud hut with a thatched roof. (Okay, my friend Julie might...)
We're fine here in Sri Lanka. The rains can be sudden and intense and if you get caught out in one of the cloudbursts, you're instantly soaked and the raindrops actually hurt. It's such a pleasant way to spend the rest of your day, I call it my drowned rat look with sub-continent hair. One volunteer was heard to say, "Oh great! I'm starting to chafe!"
There was another deep sea earthquake last week just off the Nicobar Islands. It was a 7.2 and rattled us a bit, but no waves. At a camp down south, Periliya, there was a panic as people ran for high ground at the temple. One can hardly blame them, this is the site of the demolished train that killed more than 800 people the day of the tsunami. The train still sits next to the track, a battered, ghostly reminder of all they lost that day.
When it rains, I write. This past week my British friend Daniella and I wrote a proposal to the Rotary Club of Kandy Metropolitan. Kandy is a good sized city in Sri Lanka and is just about dead center on the island. Dani has an uncle that is very involved with the Rotary and they have $25,000 they wish to grant to an aid organization for relief efforts. We wrote a grant request for the orphanage in Thissamaharama, (yes, that’s as hard to pronounce as it looks) the money would allow us to build 4 new dorm like buildings that would house 40-50 more kids total. Dani and I are a good team when it comes to the writing thing, even though as a Brit she has a tendancy to spell a great many words incorrectly. What's with all the gratuitous "u"s? My flat mate Chris got a tremendous amount of money from his old high school and contracted for a well to be drilled at the orphanage. He is down there right now to make sure all goes according to plan. It was almost amusing as he started to tell me all about wells, pumps and the pressure needed to bring water to the surface. I grew up on a farm with well water, so been there, done that, got the tee-shirt!
If you see my nephews and my nieces, give them some noogies from me and ask if they ever got the postcards I sent. I have heard from Dan via e-mail. Please feel free to forward this on to my brothers, what's their names, just in case they think they might ever want to WRITE TO ME YOU DORKS! Tell Doug, James, Jim whatever he's calling himself this week, happy birthday. Hope this finds you and Tammy doing well and enjoying the heat...teehee.
Love you,
Sue