Vivid Diary March 2005

Diary
Andrew Nicholson

March 2005

A diary is one of those opportunities I have rarely exploited. It is a chance to write a personal account of, and provide impressions of the world. Sri Lanka was the first country outside Australia that I was fortunate enough to live and teach in. I am indebted to it and the people that make it the wonderful idyllic country it is. My wife, Champa, was born there and I met her there. We were later married there, and we consider it one of our homes.

I was brought up in Australia, Melbourne to be precise. A multicultural city. My childhood was easy and centred on quality schooling and what I thought was typical of all children: sport. Afternoons and weekends involved soccer, tennis, golf, or in my sister’s case softball. My parents ferried us to practices and games. This was in an environment of eastern suburbia, where ethnicity was valued. My teammates on the soccer field were Asimakopolous, Georgiou, Nizic, and then throw in an Amos or Mitchell. In illustrating the middle class diversity in the area, and my associations, I paint a picture that is predominantly Mediterranean Europe. The odd Pole, Hungarian, African and Romanian would display his soccer heritage and was feared on the soccer field. Later, when I was at university, there were more of the Nguyen, Lee, and Akram moniker showing their soccer skills. The point is that at an early age, cultural differences were prevalent and certainly in my case, the seed of the desire be some place else was planted. My parents nourished this seed with family holidays through parts of Asia, including Bali, Thailand, Malaysia, Hong Kong and China.

Upon graduation, (I could not call it studies, as that would be stretching the truth), I continued to work in hospitality. Really this is a glamour term for hotels, bars and gaming rooms. Finding myself disillusioned with this career, I saved for more travel. The daily grind of emptying “pokies”, counting the money, and then opening the front doors of the venue only to the same customers waiting to throw away more money and be miserable made me feel miserable. A year away backpacking would see me absorbing the culture I craved. A year later, and with a hefty debt to my name I returned with tales of Africa and Europe to relate. In Ethiopia, with a shaved head, hollow stomach, and tight budget, I rang home and asked my mother to investigate university courses for me on my return. Although it was still early in my travels, I had discovered that my thirst for travel and experiencing new cultures was boundless.

Almost immediately after returning home to Melbourne I was thrust into the rigors of re-education. To be a teacher was a huge step for me. With Mum a teacher, and Dad a professor of engineering, I had maintained a stubborn resistance to this profession. Even now, when students ask why I chose teaching, I am forced to admit my choice was partially pragmatic and financially driven. In essence I was looking for something that gave me the opportunity to travel, as well as something that would provide a warm feeling of being useful. Teaching, with the perks of holidays, and the premise of helping children learn, was the easiest solution.

Is that fate? Sri Lankans, a largely Buddhist people, would agree. My first teaching position was in an international school in the rural town of Kilmore, some 60 kilometres north of Melbourne. There, I encountered and lived with mostly Asian students. From Taiwan, Hong Kong, Indonesia, Thailand, India, Sri Lanka and China. In a boarding situation, I quickly grew to love this lifestyle, with its energy of giving. As simple as noodles in the evening following the country style dinner, the students would share. Possessions such as a walkman and CDs too. Teaching was a 6am wakeup to an 11 pm lights out assignment there. Tiring, yet rewarding. After four years of living and teaching there, I was ready to move on and use the skills I had learnt further afield. Abroad, somewhere truly international.

Sri Lanka meant beach, cricket and hot food. That was the extent of my appreciation of the country when I agreed to a two-year contract. Setting off from Australia with six boxes of prized possessions, including golf clubs, television and didgeridoo, I was ready for a new challenge. Soon after arriving in Sri Lanka and settling into the house designated for me, I was satisfied. The feeling there, whether it be the smiling calm faces, or the banana trees, humidity and salty air, is one of serenity. Calm, generous people who live life simply. Meals are curry and rice. Served often with tea, or the local Lion lager, a good, cheap drop.

Within my first few weeks, I was befriended by a driver of a tuk-tuk, a small, motorised vehicle with three wheels, run on diesel and with the associated high-pitched drone at high speed. These are used as taxis, and are everywhere. This driver, Roshan, took me to the markets, temples, and eventually to his house. Perhaps it should be called home. In the middle of what I could only describe as a shanty village, close enough to central Colombo, the capital city. It was dusty, but with deep channels of disgusting, green and slimy effluent winding through it. Roshan invited me to lunch. This was an affair that included all the family, plus extensions. The food was rice, chicken, assorted green vegetables that even now I can’t recall by name. It was my first experience of eating curry with fingers. This takes the skill of rolling the food together selectively so that it binds, and which is judged by using only the tips of the fingers. My hands were covered, as was the floor under me.

A game of cricket followed. In the narrow street with a tennis ball that had lost its green cover. In front of the entire community, bent old grandmotherly types nursing babies, children carrying schoolbooks even on a Saturday, and the red-lipped, buck-teethed, beetle leaf-chewing men of the village. I struggled but was determined to protect the stumps they so wanted to knock over. I enjoyed every second, and was happy to pay Roshan when he dropped me home following a few thirst-quenching Lions. The poorest had shared their home with me, and let me into their life.

During the three years that I lived in Sri Lanka, I encountered this often. A keen golfer and waterskier, I found friends in the wealthier echelon of society too. Mercedes and BMWs are plentiful in Sri Lanaka now. As a HASH runner, I ran through paddy fields and the poorest of villages every Wednesday night. Similar to Roshan’s home, these people were subsistent, yet happy. Always smiling and ready to point me in the right direction when I had lost my way. The children would often follow our tracks. In bare feet, grubby and with disheveled clothes. All they would want was conversation, and perhaps a pen. The last thing they would have thought of asking for was money.

On weekends I would occasionally leave the city and stay in hotels. The beaches are beautiful and my favourite destination. The locals are either fishermen, or involved in selling knick-knacks like wooden elephants, shells, sarongs, batik hangings that were often made with their own hands, and always going cheaply. I loved the banter, the smile they gave as I halved their sale price. Typically, I would score a “gift” if I talked long enough to them about cricket, the weather, politics or my origins. Everyone knows someone, usually a cousin in Australia. Leaving Sri Lanka for Champa and I was an ordeal. Largely brought about by personal issues, we knew we would benefit by being elsewhere as a couple, and we both needed to grow professionally too.
Now, living in Romania we have again been fortunate to meet many fine people and have an extremely close circle of friends. So much so, that four families joined us for our wedding in Sri Lanka, barely five months after arriving here. Romanian people have enchanted us. Taking students to the north, near Sovata has been a highlight of the three years spent here. Weekends in the mountains are a splendid way to unwind. The surrounds are amazing, the people remind me of Sri Lankans, with their warm spirit and generosity. Despite the elements and history, they survive, and share the little they have. It is inspiring and refreshing.

As has been the response in our community to the Asian tsunami. Knowing our origins and links to Sri Lanka, we were invited to lead the Tsunami Relief Fund at AISB. So many people have volunteered to help, we had more than 30 people turn up to a spontaneous meeting to discuss and plan our relief efforts. In the two months since the tsunami, we have done what schools do. When a major world event occurs, we teachers all plan to use the “teachable moment”. This was clearly demonstrated on 26 January 2005 when the entire school community gathered in the atrium for a two-minute ‘Circle of Silence’, a mark of remembrance for the disaster that hit Southeast Asia a month earlier. What was demonstrated was true learning and feeling at its “child-centred” best – which is teacherspeak for when students volunteer to make a difference without adult help. This has widened to children organising activities, raising money and awareness through letters to organisations, poetry, articles on the school website. Many of these students are Romanian. I am pleased to see that the cultural value of giving is appearing at the roots of Bucharest society. It is a seed that needed nourishment.

Soon we return to Sri Lanka. I know that upon arrival, Champa and I will have to contend with gathering 150 kg of boxed items (donated by the students at school and ranging from toys to school stationary and books), finding our suitcase, and organising a taxi. The warm, humid air will engulf us. The frenetic drive home to the suburbs will be uncomfortable. I can anticipate that a tuk-tuk driver will cut us off doing a U-turn, and some cows will cross the road in front of us, looking for the next paddy field to feed in, or some shade to sit under. We are guaranteed to see some old wooden trucks bounce along full of workers in the open back, all smiling. Despite the heat of the day, and with the same curry and rice to look forward to. These are hardy people and not unlike Romanians in that they have experienced difficult times.

Champa and I both feel blessed at the opportunity given to us. To have lived and taught here in Romania. To have taught in Sri Lanka. To have experienced both cultures. Meeting, working with and knowing people, their histories and belief systems, their cultures.

Now, to have the chance to link them. We hope the bond we form will be long-lasting and beneficial to the people of Sri Lanka. We also hope that the recognition of helping Sri Lankans may touch the Romanian culture and have a lasting effect here

Andrew Nicholson teaches at AISB. Readers interested in learning more about AISB's fundraising programme can contact him at anicholson@aisb.ro