Sharing in the Sri Lankan Sunset

-- Sharing in the Sri Lankan Sunset --

I hurry down to the beach to catch the sun setting, at the end of a hot and sweaty day. I just arrived in Sri Lanka.  I need a 2- month visa, but the office is closed for the weekend.  So I get to take a welcome break in a small inn near the beach before I go to my planned community project 10 hours away, in northern Sri Lanka.

I find a rock to sit on between sand, seas and palm trees. I’m feeling a bit agitated with myself because I forgot my travel sarong for sitting on the beach.   In Canada I packed 10,000 things to bring  to Sri Lanka and then forgot something I knew I would need often, my sarong.

Not far away I notice a mother carrying a toddler very awkwardly, while she is kicking coconut shells down the dunes. She comes up behind me. A small boy runs in front of me along the shore line, collecting drift wood.

The mom looks tired, and the toddler seems heavy in her arms. She finds her 3^rd coconut shell to juggle kicking along with the other two.  Then she sits down on a rock near me. I notice that her child is not a toddler at all, but a small girl with severe palsy who is hanging sideways, unable to  keep her body upright.

The mom motions to the young boy to pick up a huge piece of wood on the edge of the water, a piece that I thought a boy his size could never manage.  He struggles and brings it to her feet, next to the coconut shells. An elderly Sri Lankan lady comes and sits with them and  we all stare at the sunset. She must be the grandmother.

I decided to stop being a gawking tourist and go sit with them. As I approach, the grandmother dusts off a rock with her torn and tattered skirt and motions for me to join them.

I sit down and the small girl gives me a  big decaying-teeth-smile as her head roles backwards off of her mom’s arm. Her name is Nahila. I am told she is actually 8 years old, as her mom writes an 8 in the sand. As I look at the mom and grandmother, their teeth are all decaying and falling out as well.    They give me huge gummy smiles, overjoyed that I have joined them. Damaga, the boy age 11, skips up with more sticks and joins us.

I remember I have some of my trusty travel treasures  - a “street kit” in my purse. So I fish deep down in my African black bag and give him the kit filled with crayons, pens, pencils…and yes a tooth brush. What luck!

What kind of weirdo carries this stuff randomly in her purse you might ask?   Yup ….me.

In the street kit there was also a colorful, noisy toy of balls you swing together. Nihal, sprawling in her mother’s arms is infatuated with this toy, as she watches with amazement as her bother Damaga swings it.  He gives it to Nihala but she is so disabled that she is unable to swing the toy on her own, but is content that it is now sitting on her belly.

Damaga reaches in the street kit again and pulls out a small sewing kit. Mom and grandmom are now very interested in this. The grandmother then starts pointing out all the holes in each one of their clothing. It is now that I start to really notice how poor this family is. The grandmother tucks the sewing kit proudly in her bra (an action also reminding me of my grandmother). She is so happy that she will now be able to fix her family’s clothing.

Damaga looks and finds the final gift…3 candies. His eyes light up as he enthusiastically shares one with his sister. He ate his and held the last one in his hand.

During this time a young couple with a little girl sat a few yards from us. Unprompted, Damaga gets up and gives their child the last candy,  sharing his small gift.

Watching this scene play out I suddenly had an overwhelming feeling of complete love.  Here is a family, so poor, collecting what I assume to be firewood from beach debris to make dinner, with clothing that’s falling off of them with holes, no teeth…and this small boy goes to share the last candy with the child sitting closest to us.

Thank God I had  on my sunglasses as I could not help but tear up at this small act of kindness from Damaga. I'd already almost lost it when the grandmother was so thrilled with the small sewing kit to fix their clothes.

With no English spoken, we all sat watching the last of the sunset.

As the final stages of the pink and orange sun light sunk into the ocean, Damaga did a handstand, and the grandmother motioned that it was time to go. They collected their wood and thanked me over and over for the gifts.  I waved good bye and they all beamed, looking at me as if some miracle had just happened.

As I walked back to my cottage I thought about how lucky I was to have such a beautiful moment with that family. I thought how silly I was being earlier, getting so agitated about having left my sarong in Canada. The things we take for granted.... the silly things we worry about.

I tell myself I must write this moment down ASAP, before I forget any small tidbit. I return to my room, and unpack my laptop…. and low and behold, what is wrapped around the computer? My sarong!

I'm now feeling emotional not just because of  finding my own "gift", but reflecting on how the little kit bag meant so much to the family.  I shared something small with them, and it made a difference in their lives...And then that wonderful boy shared his precious bit of candy with another child.  

Maybe we can all learn alot from his small act of kindness and maybe just maybe that is how life should be.

Note: I did not take any photos of the family as I did not feel it was appropriate.