Turning Sinhalese (I think I'm turning Sinhalese, I really think so)

There's a motorbike with a family of 5 careering towards me as I leave my house in the morning and make my way towards the bus stop. The family of 5 are undertaking a bus that is charging along the pavement in order to race past a woman on a scooter and a dawdling car. The car is undertaking a cow as it wanders nonchalantly down the middle of the road. So far, so normal.

As I arrive at the hospital, the bus doesn't quite come to a standstill, but it's ok as my legs now know what to do. They catapult me (almost) effortlessly from the bus into the path of a speeding trishaw. The trishaw is heading straight for me, but no need to worry. I've observed the impressive turning circle capacity of these vehicles many times and know that it's better to stand my ground than make any sudden movements. It works out ok for me and, calamity averted, I head up the broad leafy driveway towards the hospital. The sun is hot and sweat is dripping into my eyes and running down my entire body. But, all is well. I have the obligatory umbrella in hand, my trusty handkerchief ready at my brow and I'm wearing a patterned top to cleverly disguise the sweat. No-one will notice! I enter the OT hall and am welcomed as usual with a chorus of enthusiastic greetings "Hello Miss Beth" “Good Morning Beth Miss” “You are sweating Miss Beth”. “Yes I am sweating" I reply with a slightly strained smile.

After a morning supervision meeting with one of the OT's, I drink a cup of plain tea with enough sugar in it to give me diabetes from 10 paces. I barely grimace. Later, I pop to the canteen to get my daily fix of rice. I arrive early knowing that the popular egg rice packets will sell out by 12:30pm. I want that egg packet! Stringing together a few words of Sinhala, I manage to secure the goods and explain that I owe them money for the biscuits I bought yesterday when I was short of change (you can never consume too much sugar in this heat!). Debts settled, I return to the OT department to await the beginning of the weekly OT meeting. It does not start on time but this is not a problem. I do not expect it to and am therefore prepared with my computer so I can get on with some work for the OT degree programme.

During the meeting, I am almost fluent in Sinhala (I can understand at least 1 word in every 100 and am sure I hear someone mention lunch). Lunchtime arrives and I unwrap my rice packet to take in the glorious sight of my boiled egg nestled tantalisingly amidst the rice. I wonder if I should share it. In fact, I know that I should. It's the right thing to do. However, I decide against this action. Instead I try to divert attention by insisting others help themselves to my sambal (I am sure I've spotted a sprat in it, and I'm not gonna risk it). Whilst I use my fingers to expertly break my egg into bite sized pieces, the fingers of others deposit piles of pumpkin, beans and dahl onto my rice from all directions. I am not in the least bit fazed by this, but do begin to feel slightly uncomfortable as I realise one of the OT's is peering over my shoulder watching me eat. “What is it?” I ask slightly concerned that he's going to ask for some of my egg. “I am observing your fine finger functioning. You are becoming almost Sri Lankan Miss Beth” he replies. I proudly waggle my head and feel compelled to tell them all about my canteen exchange, eager to check my grammar and receive some praise for my progress. “Wow miss Beth, you are speaking Sinhala better than some Sinhalese!” (I think there is a strong possiblity they are making fun of me, but I allow myself a rather smug grin anyway).

On the way home, I spot a white person I've not seen before and do a double-take followed by a spinning wide eyed stare. I may not be Sri Lankan quite yet, but I think I'm fitting in pretty well.