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.

  

A very special engagement

Despite the highs of sari shopping, I was nervous about the actual wearing of my glitzy new outfit and the many potential dangers I envisaged. However, this was to be my first Sri Lankan engagement and I was determined to enjoy it. 

Here in Sri Lanka, the engagement is the legally binding event and therefore holds far more importance than the wedding itself. Usually the two happen on the same day, but in this instance we were to celebrate the engagement a full 4 months prior to the wedding. I'm still a little unclear as to exactly why. However, as is the way in Sri Lanka, it has to do with the calculation of the most auspicious time. Sri Lankans regularly consult astrological charts to decide on the best time for many of life's important events. For the bride and groom in this instance, the most auspicious time was deemed to be at 10am on may 9th, and so the 9th may it was. 

The day was to begin early and so we stayed at the hotel where the ceremony would take place. Myself and another volunteer were to host the bride and her helper in our room from 6am where she would get dressed and be made up in good time for the 9am photo shoot. We had been told that the "help" in question was a boy who would also assist us into our saris. There was much speculation ahead of time about "sari boy" (as he came to be known) and some concern and amusement about how he might cope with a group of foreigners parading round in underskirts and sari jackets. Further questioning revealed that the sari boy was in fact a 25 year old man, but a very "innocent man"we were told, leading to further hilarity. However, SARI BOY (a Sri Lankan superhero of the highest order) turned out to be a professional through and through. Having worked his magic on the beautiful bride, he effortlessly wrapped, tucked, smoothed and folded us into our outfits.  

Freshly wrapped, thermostat working

A little later...getting hotter and pinker

And so, the day itself. After the signing and witnessing of the engagement and a declaration that they were now husband and wife, the celebrations began. Despite having a decidedly Sri Lankan flavour, there are clearly some things that are universal at such events. There was the cutting of a cake, a band, some bad daytime dancing (I speak only for myself, it's rather tricky dancing in a sari), a slightly sozzled uncle in the corner, plenty of food, and a few speeches. It was a great day. The bride's family were incredibly warm and welcoming of the strange foreigners and everyone had fun. 

As for the anticipated dangers of wearing a sari, I was pleasantly surprised. Yes there was rather a lot of material wrapped around me, yes it was hot, yes my face was rather pink and shiny, and yes I did almost trip up on several occasions. However, limiting the sri lankan rum to just a couple of drinks was a wise move. And having a gaggle of Sri Lankan women around you at all times is a great help. Not only can they advise on the logistics of a sari toilet visit, but I learnt from experience that they are also ready to intervene at lightening speed and with great proficiency when your sari threatens to undo!

My bat girl sari cape and very pink
face, inspiration for the wedding colour scheme

So, I look forward to the wedding in September where it seems I will be ................drum roll............... one of the bridesmaids! Yes, you heard it here first! And rumour has it, the bride is planning the colour scheme to match the colour of my hot and sweaty face. Me in a pink sari! ?!?!?!? How did this happen?