Tales from Sri Lanka
Tales of my regular tussles with local tuk tuk driver Champika struck a chord with a few folk back home.
“The Champ” and I still see each other most days, but he seems to have accepted that I’ll never step foot in his tuk tuk again. From the hurt and anger of “why you no call for me? why you no call for me?’’ (complete with jabbing finger) we’ve moved on to a wave or a handshake and a bit of chitchat about how hard his life is and the health of his family.
A brother-in-law is in a bad way, apparently, but it hasn’t prompted me to make the donation he always asks for.
When it all gets a bit much I tend to duck into a supermarket near to where The Champ touts for most of his business. As a man who hustles for money, rather than spends it, The Champ seems physically incapable of stepping over the supermarket’s threshold.
HIGHER EDUCATION
No walk from the hotel to the city centre goes by without making a new “friend’’.
My favourite this week has been the older man, who quickly expressed a lifelong love of New Zealand and an admiration for the profession which has brought me to Kandy. He said he was a teacher, although given the absence of a few teeth and the mad look in his eye, it looked to have been a wee while between lessons.
We eventually got to his sales pitch, which involved me buying a ticket to some show featuring fire walking, fire eating, monkey dancing etc, etc. The Black Caps were even going to be there he said, straight-faced.
His reaction when I wandered off was rather comical, standing in the middle of the footpath with his arms raised shouting “where are you going now? I am teacher! I am teacher!”
EYES WIDE SHUT
I could tell something was quite wrong with my face, even before I got out of bed on the morning of New Zealand’s clash with Pakistan. What greeted me in the mirror was even more horrific than usual.
Not only had I grown a second forehead, but my right eye was completely closed. To the point where I needed both hands to prize it open.
It’s one thing for Wasim Akram to strut about the media centre with sunglasses on, but I wasn’t feeling game enough to try it myself. Thankfully my eye was half-open by game time and the sunnies went back in my bag.
Mozzies had been the culprit. To stop them nibbling my face, I now sleep with the light on and my trusty towelling hat covering my eyes.