Trouble
Part 5 of Tales of Serendipity
Ever since we'd arrived in Sri Lanka we'd felt an undercurrent of unrest and danger. One of my Dad's work colleagues had had his car shot at by a soldier, apparently when he'd driven down a road he'd been told not too. There were parts of the far north that were designated as "no go areas".
I was too young to understand the political situation, all I knew was that some people called the "Tamil Tigers" were fighting with the government for land and recognition. It was all happening a long way away from the city, though.
Until it suddenly seemed to get very close indeed. Evening curfews were declared by the government. Overnight, I lost the huge freedoms we'd enjoyed over the previous two years.
One day fighting broke out in the city, and the air was filled of shouting and police sirens. We watched from the balcony as columns of smoke rose all around us across the city.
Suddenly there were an enormous series of cracks and bangs, very close to the house, and we ran inside terrified. We went to sleep very scared of a city that had once seemed to friendly and welcoming.
The next day we found out the truth. Somebody had set light to a bottling plant near the house. The cracks and bangs had not been weapons fire, but burning crates of empty bottles exploding!
The riots came to be known as "Black July", one of the darkest times in the country's history. Up to 3000 Tamils were killed that day.
Sri Lanka had become to dangerous, and my Dad's contract was coming to an end. It was time to go home. The trouble is, two years was a fair proportion of my young life and Sri Lanka was home. England seemed a distant, cold and alien place.
We went back to England that summer, I cried more on the return trip than I had on arrival! Over the coming months we watched the on news as Sri Lanka sank deeper into a bitter civil war. One that it still hasn't recovered from.
But one day I'd like to go back. Just to see how much of what I remember has survived. And to relive my days of Serendipity.
Ever since we'd arrived in Sri Lanka we'd felt an undercurrent of unrest and danger. One of my Dad's work colleagues had had his car shot at by a soldier, apparently when he'd driven down a road he'd been told not too. There were parts of the far north that were designated as "no go areas".
I was too young to understand the political situation, all I knew was that some people called the "Tamil Tigers" were fighting with the government for land and recognition. It was all happening a long way away from the city, though.
Until it suddenly seemed to get very close indeed. Evening curfews were declared by the government. Overnight, I lost the huge freedoms we'd enjoyed over the previous two years.
One day fighting broke out in the city, and the air was filled of shouting and police sirens. We watched from the balcony as columns of smoke rose all around us across the city.
Suddenly there were an enormous series of cracks and bangs, very close to the house, and we ran inside terrified. We went to sleep very scared of a city that had once seemed to friendly and welcoming.
The next day we found out the truth. Somebody had set light to a bottling plant near the house. The cracks and bangs had not been weapons fire, but burning crates of empty bottles exploding!
The riots came to be known as "Black July", one of the darkest times in the country's history. Up to 3000 Tamils were killed that day.
Sri Lanka had become to dangerous, and my Dad's contract was coming to an end. It was time to go home. The trouble is, two years was a fair proportion of my young life and Sri Lanka was home. England seemed a distant, cold and alien place.
We went back to England that summer, I cried more on the return trip than I had on arrival! Over the coming months we watched the on news as Sri Lanka sank deeper into a bitter civil war. One that it still hasn't recovered from.
But one day I'd like to go back. Just to see how much of what I remember has survived. And to relive my days of Serendipity.
The End
Labels: sri lanka
We are expecting the complete life story now. Well as far as you've got anyway.
Or as Spike Milligan said to Michael Aspel when told, "this is your life", "Oh, I can go away and die now then can I?"
I'm told it says on Spike's gravestone, "I told you I was Ill."
Hmmm perhaps that's enough verbal dioreah from me for now.
Also, I can't spell dire rear either.
To Becky: I agree that you need to give your fan base much more of the biography. Just as you were starting to get us hooked, you threaten to turn off the supply. Typical pusher's trick! Not that I would know - I'm a good girl, me :)
xx
(spell checker doesn’t seem to have a match for the afore mentioned word).
I used to work with someone whose catchphrase was “can I leave it with you?”
He regularly worked 24 or 48 stints without sleep, and as a result was reminded this may end up being his epitaph.
As for speaking Gaelic, unfortunately I don’t. This might prove too much for my small brain that is already overloaded with engineering theory, two identities, and being 1/8 French. If this isn’t a recipe for disaster I don’t know what is. (The being part French bit probably explains my stubborn/over excitable trait)
Anyway Becky, what is Madame EnVerite going to enthral us all with next?
Post a CommentPermalink Subscribe to comments: this post | all posts
<< T*Blog Home