Kirinda beach

This first day ends with a walk on Kirinda beach. To get there, it becomes a kind of adventure as we come across acouple of tied up buffalos which prevent us from going farther. At the risk of being stuck up in the mud, our driver has to stop in front of these ruminants which apparently don’t want to let us go. It’s the main feature of all the animals we’ve met in this country in the Indian Ocean: a kind of nonchalance, the way they consider the place where they are as theirs and that nothing should be changed. When the buffalo lies in the ricefield to benefit from the freshness, I don’t mind. When it wanders on the road or blocks the way, I think it’s necessary to negotiate. Kumara is volunteer for the diplomatic steps. Showing a real courage and knowing the importance of his mission, he gets off the minibus and starts the dialogue.

After trying a gentle persuasion, he waves a twig frantically and finally manages to move the buffalos away, thus freeing the way to the beach. Before going for a walk along the ocean, we stop in a meadow near by, where there are a few cows which remain away from and some wandering dogs attracted par our group. Sitting on the grass we eat with appetite the sweets brought by Malani, all of that served with an ayurvedic drink with medicinal properties. It has the colour of tea, it tastes a little like tea but it is not tea although we are in Ceylan (the former name of Sri Lanka). Anyway it’s excellent and when everybody has eaten enough we take the path which leads to the ocean. We are right at the place where the Kirinda river flows into the ocean. The landscape is magnificent both in its simplicity and its purity. The beach is almost desert, we only come across two fishermen busy with their traditional boat. We take our shoes off and go down to the ocean to have an improvised foot-bath. Sandeepa runs in the foam and brings me shells before joining her grandmother with a big peal of laughter. Since we arrived the sky has become darker on the land side whereas on the see side the sun goes on shining, on this end of the afternoon. It seems as it is the end of the world, it’s such a beauty that the photos taken can’t give it back. This duality makes me remind me of the tsunami in December 2004. I wonder how the Sri-Lankans see this ocean which took everything away from them three and a half years ago. No visible resentment, no remaining fear? Obviously life has reasserted itself and it’s probably necessary to have lived this kind of disaster to understand that. This change of weather makes the driver call us back, for he dreads a storm which would make the track impassable. Everybody is silent on the way back. Sandeepa still sitting next to me looks at me from time to time, smiling; she looks tired after this particular day. The moment of the farewells is near, we arrive at their house. Everybody gets off the bus and greets each other for the last time. Sandeepa slips away very quickly with her little neighbours, probably to tell them about her day. We take Munidasa and Malani’s leave, thank them for welcoming us and assure them of our future support. We get in the minibus towards the hotel. I thank Hemali and Kumara for this wonderful day, on our way back we weather the shower which had been threatening since we went to the beach. We note the suddenness, the density and the brevity of these monsoon rains. Fifteen minutes later the sun comes back, the temperature didn’t even get lower. Half an hour later the ground is already dry. It makes a change from our Briton drizzles...

All of a sudden the driver stops the vehicle and shows us a dot, about 80 metres away from us. Right in the middle of the road, we can see a beautiful wild elephant, probably a male considering its impressive size even at this distance. I decide very quickly to get off the vehicle to take a photo; but unfortunately I just manage to take its back, for after looking at us proudly it went away. A few hundred metres farther, we meet a family of these animals which were eating about fifty metres away from the road, between the trees. These moments are all the more moving since they are wild animals found completely unexpectedly. They probably live in the Bundala park we pass along to go back to the hotel. This park is a first-rate ornithological reserve, but the wild elephants probably find there the calm they need. Back at the hotel we make an appointment with  Hemali and Kumara for the next day at 9.00 am. We’re going to have another day of visits (and surprises).

When going back to our room, we realize the gap between  the occidental comfort of this three-star hotel and the poor conditions of living of the families we met. My involvement in the sponsorship is therefore a little stronger. This feeling of being a little “useful” on this good old earth gives us a particular well-being, a great satisfaction and a little pride in the best sense of the word.