The power of travel: Places, People and Memories

by Samuel Wake (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Sri Lanka

The year was 2011, I was 17 and lucky enough to venture half way across the world to embark on some volunteering. The beautifully diverse country of Sri Lanka would be my home for the next 2 weeks. Sri Lanka was not a country I had an abundance of knowledge about, besides my fathers repeated warning of the Tamil Tigers. I assured him I was in the south of the island but this did not stop him reiterating the dangers of the militant organisation. My volunteering took place at a local school, educating children from the age of 4 all the way through to 18. The contrast in lives was stark to say the least, but I'm not too sure what I was expecting. Most of these children had limited resources. Wealth, or more precisely, the scale of poverty, in this school was based upon whether you had shoes or not, not whether said shoes were Alexander McQueen or Primark. The children I encountered did not have much in the way of possessions but what they did have were smiles bigger than Sigiriya itself and an abundance of ambition. Most of whom wanted to become doctors. Their money was intended for their parents and making their lives better, which was a shameful realisation to many of us volunteers, who would save for months for the newest clobber to don at the weekend with no aforethought for our parents. Sorry, mum. When we separated out into little groups I was paired with a small boy, no older than 12 and 3 girls of similar age. It was a surreal experience trying to teach these children, who knew little to no english how to morris dance, but the connection was there nonetheless. I was unsure what was more amusing to some of the children my bleached blond hair, a concept which many had never seen before, or the sight of me trying to reenact a routine we had learned only a few weeks prior to our trip. Cautiously bashing a stick on the ground with these obnoxious bells and ribbons attached to my wrists and ankles. The routines was not a high point but invaluable nonetheless. That being said, their smiles made the humiliation worth it and in return the children shared a much more elegant dance native to their culture. They wore the most divine satin pink saris as they effortlessly placed their arms in unique, but beautiful shapes. We were there on a cultural exchange but would be volunteering at the school and helping build extra classrooms as well. Throughout the expedition, we met with local people, who in turn shared not only meals that they had so generously prepared for us as a way of saying thank you, but also, and for me more importantly, stories. Stories that would shock: Explanations of the relevance of the blue lines marked on the side of the houses. A constant reminder of the power of Mother Nature and what the country has overcome. This was were the Tsunami water had risen to. Stories that would inspire: One child’s journey to and from school, which takes hours in harsh terrain all done barefoot in order to gain an education. Some of our kids struggle just to get out of bed in the morning. Stories that would break our heart: Accounts of that fatal day back in 2004 which effected hundreds of thousands of people, but also stories that would make us laugh, tales of cows wandering into the school from off the street. This was how we bonded as human beings. I still think about the people I met on this experience nearly 10 years on. The children in particular, who will now be adults themselves or at least in their teenage years. I wonder how many made it to become a doctor. Maybe some made it this country, we all know we could use the extra hands. Sri Lanka really is a gem in the vast indian ocean.