The Sadness of Geography by Logathasan Tharmathurai

Author:Logathasan Tharmathurai
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2019-07-05T16:00:00+00:00

Every morning during my time in Mattakkuliya, I was awakened early — usually by one of the children, who seemed both very shy of me and familiar. They gave me tea and fresh-baked bread for breakfast. Before the sun was up, I would start wandering the city. It was odd how quickly I learned how to amuse myself in a big city by doing absolutely nothing. I walked, looked in store windows, sat in parks and people-watched, hung out at the beach — basically lived a life of leisure. Usually I skipped eating during the day. It was cheaper that way, and I thought that any interaction with the Sinhalese, even with the street vendors, could be dangerous.

Shortly after sunset each day, I would find my way back to the house in Mattakkuliya. I looked forward to eating evening meals with the family; it wasn’t something I was used to. The mother prepared the meals, and we all sat down together on the floor to eat. The prawn curry cooked in coconut milk and served with warm rice was delicious. I talked to them about my family, about life at boarding school. I also talked a lot about my plan to move to Germany. “I am going to be free,” I told them. “I will have a good job, and I can pay to have my mother and siblings move to Germany, too. It will be a good life.”

We also talked about the riots and about the hatred between Tamils and Sinhalese. The mother explained that the Qur’an forbids hatred. “We must take care of one another,” she said. She sighed. “It does not always work out that way, however.”

I agreed. I had never read the Qur’an and had no idea what it said, but I believed it to be true because she did. After all, she was sheltering a Tamil in her home.

I realized that I had seen no trace of her husband anywhere and that he was never mentioned. As I was living off her kindness and hospitality, I thought it disrespectful to inquire after him. Perhaps he had died. I don’t know. At that time in Sri Lanka, Muslims were for the most part tolerated; over time that would change.

Her son and daughter often wandered into the storage area, and we would play together. They reminded me of my younger brother and sisters.

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