October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, focusing on strength, fearlessness and coming together. In my book, “Living Namaste Photography and Spoken Word Poetry“, I wrote about Marilyn who embraced all of these characteristics and so much more because she touched my life in such a profound way. While receiving chemo, she played her harp for all and created such calmness for everyone. Here is the excerpt from the book and here’s to you Marilyn!
Travel affords me so many amazing opportunities. Living in Philadelphia, there is probably very little chance that I will ever be able to meet a man with long flowing jet black hair, wearing nothing but a loin cloth, living in the midst of a dense jungle and moving silently through the trees with a bow and arrow and ax slung over one shoulder.
The trip to Dabana, took us from modern roads, walking through a dense, verdant jungle squatting aside low hanging branches and insects to finally come upon a clearing and a dirt path calling us further into exploration. We had traveled back in time to see the few remaining aboriginal settlers of Sri Lanka, an island off the coast of India.
The Veddas as they are known, are reported to have come to Sri Lanka about 1600 BC and our visit was a rich and deeper cultural experience into this land of past and present. The clearing we were on opened to a few mud huts with thatched roofs which served as a type of a museum, providing a look into village life. Painted on the sides of two of the buildings were primitive stick people. One with a triangle seemed to symbolize a female and the other, just the plain form of a circle and lines for the males, a small letter m seemed to represent an animal. The origin of story telling for this group!
Our guide took us further back on the path to meet the few remaining natives. In the 1970’s, the government census showed only 6,000 remaining Veddas left. As per the unspoken requirement, we were taken to first make the acquaintance of the chief, Uruwarige Wannila Aththo. Our shoes came off at the door and then the appropriate bowing to this older, gray haired man sitting crossed legged with only a loin cloth. It was a bit of a surreal experience because in the midst of this primitive existence, photographs of this leader meeting various dignitaries lined the walls. The chief sat down crossed legged and said nothing as we, confused and a bit hesitant to the protocol, took our seats on the perimeter inside the hut. We were very happy when 5 men in suits entered to break the awkward silence. The visit turned into a birthday party for one of the gentlemen complete with cake and candles, missing was the usual chorus of “Happy Birthday” though! The man who was the subject of the celebration told us that he held the chief in such high esteem as a wise sage and he wanted his blessing on this new year of life. We politely declined eating the cake being offered ( a good friend’s sage advice is to travel with the locals but eat with the tourists to avoid those pesty stomach issues).
We bowed our way out of the hut, leaving the greetings to the next set of visitors. Six native men in various degrees of dress escorted us out. Women were not permitted to be seen while outsiders were there so I have no idea the number of women who would be able to give birth to new baby Veddas, continuing this tribe.
For thousands of years, the Veddas have been hunters and gathers. Their lifestyle has depended upon the natural world of the jungle, all that grows and all that moves there. A few years ago though, the government put into effect regulations against the hunting of certain animals. So this may be when survival and the modern world impeded upon this ancient way of life. Not knowing the language, we were somehow able to understand that in exchange for a bit of money, we would be treated to ritual dances, fire building and the skills involved in hunting with a bow and arrow. We were suddenly thrust back into the ways of the present and the influence of the “pay off”! However, as visitors observing these cultural rituals, we found it a validation to the calling of leaving the beaten path to discover the somewhat obscure. Making our way through a dense jungle brought us face to face with a tribe having a BC date of origin and a population that seems to be on the verge of extinction. Yes, we paid a small amount of money but our glimpse into the past was well worth it and who knows for how long this opportunity may exist for those who visit Sri Lanka.
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Pico Iyer said, ” It’s almost as if travel is giving you the raw material, but stillness gives you the meaning of what you’ve experienced.” I find his words to be so true. Pouring over photographs, reliving experiences in my mind and formulating the many profound lessons that travel affords happens deeply in the stillness of return. In my last post, I wrote about the famous stilt fisherman of Sri Lanka. They are a beautiful study in balance and patience amidst a serene setting but life isn’t always about calmness with beautiful light. Life can be loud, chaotic and messy too. I find the fishermen of Sri Lanka a metaphor for life.
Negombo is the second largest open air fishing village and market in Sri Lanka. Before leaving, I researched and read a review on Trip Advisor: “Get a good pair of boots!” This proved to be invaluable because we were sloshing around smelly, let me repeat that…very smelly fish and their body parts strewn all over. A lot of sloshing through blood mixed with ocean water, seeing fish thrown across tables, salted, laid out in the sun to dry, dissecting and discarding were going on simultaneously with loud bargaining and negotiating on prices.
Every part of this experience was both an attack on and an enlivening of all the senses. Needless to say, we were the only non Sri Lankan fisherpeople there but it was an experience that I would not have wanted to miss. It provided another glimpse into the everyday (all except Sunday) life of those whose existence depends upon the sea.
The reality was that yes it was loud, chaotic and messy. Livelihoods have to be forged from that and in the middle of that. To me, one story cannot be told without the other. These are not beautiful photographs. These are raw photographs. Some days we feel balanced and breathe in deeply. While on those other days, take some advice, get a good pair of boots for when things get knee deep, move with the experience and hope for a shower and a fresh start.