Recalling My Travels
Recovering from the tour of Sigiriya in the minibus my eyes as usual were sharply alert. When I am travelling I try not to miss anything going on. We passed an ox cart; the first I had really seen, as the mechanical ox has obviously taken over. It cannot replace the real thing as a view to enjoy. The minibus driver was familiar by now with my desire to collect pictorial images and stopped in front. I jumped out and stood watching the bend for the cart to round the bend and arrive at the right point in my viewfinder. All done and back in the bus in two minutes having run alongside the cart (knee throbbing a bit) chatting to the driver who gestured and mumbled through his cigarette holding mouth. Strange to find a rural Sri Lankan smoking! He smiled appreciation of my interest in his two grey oxen and over laden wooden cart.
A couple of miles down the road a very busy school could be seen. I asked the driver why the children were in school on a Sunday. (Silly question when I heard the answer). "Sunday School for Buddhist children" came the answer. He stopped the minibus and shrugged his shoulders.
"Is it OK to take Photographs?" I enquired.
"Of course! Otherwise why would I stop" he grinned. "Just ask the teacher."
I wandered up to the entrance. The children were grouped in age, some at long tables in the open, some standing listening and some on the play equipment. The boys were in their school uniform, probably the nearest to "Sunday Best". The girls however were all dressed in the most immaculate way. Pardon my lack of fashion vocabulary. They had beautiful white-tiered tops, bare midriff and matching tiered long skirts. When I was able to look up close they revealed extremely delicate stitching on hems and gatherings for the tiers.
I was immediately noticed by the younger children who came running. I signalled to a male teacher of an older group and explained I was English and interested in the school and taking photographs. Many of the older children understood what I was asking and paid more attention to me. I took a few pictures of them at tables. One young lady grabbed my attention as I stood talking to them all explaining I was a teacher and I took a spontaneous close-cropped portrait of which she was not really awareof. Noticing the picture was so natural and absolutely pin-sharp I walked gently over to show her. Her embarrassment showed as her friends clammered to see. A shy smile and a thank you from her I withdrew thanking all in the class in order to avoid causing more chaos in the lesson.
As I reached the gate throngs of younger children ran shouting towards me, surrounding me wanting to see my camera and chat. I managed to take a few more pictures of these enthusiastic young people. Every word I spoke, and gesture, was mimicked with great laughter. I said goodbye, waved and walked to the bus, followed all the way by thirty or so inquisitive and over excited youngsters. Although I was the only one to get out of the minibus, the rest of the group had found watching me mobbed by all those children highly amusing. My favourite image so far on my travels stored carefully on a memory card.
Having left Dambulla I explained as I had at the outset where I wanted to go. My next venture and integration was to be the most memorable event to my of my whole stay in Sri Lanka. I had seen people washing and bathing in a small river just beyond the Kandalama Tank (a name for an irrigation reservoir). He said he knew somewhere better but when we got there it was rather disappointing. The river was wide and deep and huge amounts of rubbish lay around and there was no pathway to go upstream. So we settled on going where I had originally planned. I had to give him directions. I was glad I had remembered the route from passing by on the way to Minnereya. We pulled up and there were only people working in the paddy fields. I told the driver I was going to walk downstream and was not sure how long I would be. Out I got and walked down the orange sandy track. Cars went past, a mechanical ox overloaded with wood, tractors and smiling men on bicycles. As I had come to expect, people wanted to stop and talk. Trouble was that there was no sign of the subjects I had come to see. Bend after bend I looked round with anticipation. Startled Herons and Eagrets burst into the air before I could focus up with my camera. It was about the same time of day that I had seen family after family occupied in cleaning and cleanliness. I must have walked for forty minutes and was on the verge of turning back when I heard voices. There was bridge with a wide pool and about ten people, mainly children in the river. Most were playing. I noticed a wall on the other side of the bridge, which would be a comfortable and unobtrusive place to sit. I waved and noticed downstream the women were washing clothes. I chose not to photograph their activity, as I was too high up.
