Smashing!

I heard about the violent thunderstorms of Sri Lanka, how lightning kind of follow you around. Wow! Last night was extraordinary. My heart was in my mouth, as was often said. Blasting from all corners, rainwater gushing out of spaces between doors and floors, streaming out of unsealed openings between roof tiles and wooden beams of the ceiling, drenching layers upon layers of old newspapers. I noticed a smiling Obama.

The dogs were prancing about in the foyer, grateful for dry cover. They crunched lazily on Pedigree. Really, I was scaredy-scared. Fiery things erupted by the kitchen, eyeball-busting lightning danced in our front and back gardens. The lights flickered, the TV faltered.

But floating above all these banging, spluttering, frying, blazing, shattering, crashing, thundering din, were the amplified singsong, chanting voices of Buddhist monks, praying peacefully in a nearby temple, unmindful of the torment and tribulation outside.

We survived the night's torrent, but the morning brought more heavy rain.

This monsoon reigns.

The Road to Galle 1

The shiny top of a white van slides into view. He is right on schedule. The early morning sky looks promising, a bit overcast, but more blue than grey. My 16-year-old selects a back seat, the better for reclining and lounging and connecting to her music. My husband sits behind the driver, and I plop down beside him. I have an excellent view of the road ahead and its sideshows.

The van snakes its way through the narrow, potholed mawathas, then powers down the main road. It is just 6:30 in the morning, on a Sunday, but Pannipitiya is definitely wide awake. I sense the van lurch right; a three-wheeler flies by. I muffle a shriek, as I watch two fully-packed red buses hurtle towards us. I brace myself for that tyre-screeching-neck-breaking-leg-cutting-ear-splitting impact, but I hear only the faint mooing of a solitary brown cow, taking a break from her scavenging. I remember God.

My eyes go wild, as zigzagging Bajajs squeeze past our vehicle. Our driver weaves calmly through all that chaos and I find myself looking out the window, starting to relax. I notice riceless paddy fields next to busy green grocers. I spy white birds perching and feasting on the back of a water buffalo in the wallow. The van veers right again, and we take leave of Pannipitiya, to join Talawatugoda.