Trapped by Kindness (1980)

 Events of my time in Weligama were impossible to sort into any chronological order as they seemed to gather their own momentum occurring spontaneously, and often with no bearing on any events before or since. Magic moments that materialised from nowhere to enchant, entertain, and warm the soul. 

I do remember that after about three days in the village I left! Not because things were not to my liking - far from it - but because I felt trapped by kindness. After being raised in a western middle class society it was very difficult to experience having several people devote a large part of their day to ensuring that you are happy, comfortable, well fed, and well entertained. In the world I had been raised in, it is customary for full grown adults to attend to some of their own survival needs, even when a guest in somebody else’s home. But in Weligama those first few days, all the basic requirements for living were provided for me: a roof, three meals a day, timely morning and afternoon coffees, cigarettes bought (and often lit), clothes washed, lamps lit, house cleaned. I could go on, but I think it's enough to show just how often in a single day our host family provided small comforts to make our life an easy joy.

This endless stream of kindness and good deeds towards me left me feeling ambivalent. At least a woman can assert her right to wash her own clothes at the well, or take part in other domestic duties without becoming too much the object of mirth and chattering but in Sri Lankan society, men simply do not indulge in traditional domestic duties. It often seemed that women exist for the men in fact. And frankly, it annoyed me not to be given any say in the daily basics that kept me alive and comfortable. Perhaps I wanted to assist in the preparation of food for example, but this wish would be considered absurd because I was a man.

Another thing that bothered me in those first few days was something that really was no one else’s problem but my own, and simply it was that I possessed no strategy for coping with such limitless kindness. Because of the aforementioned roles of men and women, neither was I able to show my gratitude in the way I would ordinarily do at home (washing the dishes maybe, or doing the shopping). Where the problem lay was that I felt that I had to repay the kindness being offered me, and not being able to I felt something of a freeloader. I later learned that in true keeping with Buddhist tradition, these people gave for giving's sake only; there was certainly no expectation of return, and the fact that I felt I had to return favours was a mistake on my part, and purely my own personal problem.

I did leave the village for a short time of something less than a week, and from the moment I departed I wondered why. Everything was provided for me there. Why am I going? What am I thinking? When I returned Titus just stood, grinned with twinkling, knowing eyes and said: “ You come back?”  And this time I knew I'd be in no hurry to leave. Besides, all I had to do was sing!