Sri Lanka – A Tear Drop in the Ocean
- Sep 26, 2017
- 3 min read
It’s just dawned on me, sitting on the plane back to the UK reflecting on my last 10 days in Sri Lanka the shape of it. If you glance at Sri Lanka, it can almost certainly be mistaken for a tear drop in the ocean – and the largest one at that.
Not only is it tear drop in shape, but for me this reflects the overwhelming emotion every visit to this wonderful country holds.
When I land, I have tears in my eyes. I’m full of expectation, joy, excitement and butterflies.
When I walk off the plane, I have tears in my eyes.
When I see the whole team being hit by the waft of heat at the airport, I have tears in my eyes.
When I travel to Jaffna, I have tears in my eyes.
When I arrive in Jaffna, I have tears in my eyes.
When I see Esther, I have tears in my eyes.
When I reconnect with the kids, I have tears in my eyes.
When I begin working on a project, I have tears in my eyes.
When I leave Jaffna, I have tears in my eyes.
When I sit in the airport, I have tears in my eyes.
When I board the plane, I have tears in my eyes.
When I take off, I have tears in my eyes, heart and mind.
These tears are not all tears of sadness, but are of joy and love for this place. Since my first visit there has been something special about Sri Lanka I cannot shake from me. It’s a place of natural beauty, history and hope – something that truly is a rarity for a country and people that have been through so much turmoil.
Despite my own tears and reflections of this nation, I cannot help but think of the tears of the people we meet. Whilst few shed tears around us and the sense of happiness is overriding, my experience of peering into the eyes of many and see sadness and hurt; a life of betrayal, hardship and pain lying behind them, with huge prayers for the future of their community and nation breaks my heart more on each visit.
One lady in particular, Ranjini, an IDP (Internally Displaced Person), who I have now met on three trips makes me cry upon consideration of our encounters. Living on swatters land, with her four children and alcoholic husband, has had a hugely tough life. She has eyes that are so sad, a home that is flooded out in Monsoon seasons, and children who have been deprived of education.
Each time she tries to force a smile, I just want to tell her that it is okay to cry. I want my relationships with these people to be raw and real, and I hope the more time I spend here, these opportunities arise. I wish I knew her pain, but the best I can do is try to understand and help. I speak no Tamil and she no English, but all it takes is for a touch of the hand, a squeeze or hug to let her know The Dust Project and The Paalam Project care about her and joy appears between us.
For me, she encapsulates why The Dust Project and The Paalam Project work together in this wonderful nation. Ranjini is a prime example of a forgotten citizen, who through unfortunate circumstances and decisions made by others, has been forced to live this incredibly painful life, struggling daily for years on years to barely get by. Her incredible perseverance and trust led her to The Paalam Project, who care for her – providing her with food parcels, an opportunity of sponsorship for her children and the greatest gift of all; the love of God.
Even now, after hours away from this place, I cannot help but reconsider this connection between the shape of the country, its citizens and my emotions. Sri Lanka is surely the largest teardrop in the ocean. A teardrop God has saved.
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