Found In Ceylon

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Updates From Ceylon

Life in Sri Lanka does go on, and things do keep improving, with or without the help of foreign volunteers.

One of the most challenging parts of working in a foreign country is creating sustainable solutions. In other words, you might be working super hard on a project. Anticipating your departure, you’ll train a few locals to take over the work after you leave. But as soon as you do, it falls apart. Your project isn’t adopted and merged into “the usual way things are.”

It’s a story that has repeated itself over countless times throughout history, and Rohana is no exception. Even today, I wonder if they’re buying replacement whiteboard marker pens for the classrooms or if they’ve just taken the easier, cheaper route and switched back to blackboards. Whether the new library card system is still working. Whether Lakmal is still working as a carpenter apprentice or not. Whether that women’s bag-making workshop still meets every week to manufacture purses to sell in the West.

Which is why updates from Sri Lanka always delight me. It’s proof that there are still people helping out and that things are still pressing forth.

Here’s an update from the Ruhunu Sumaga Circle of the Deaf, Matara’s deaf association with whom I worked often:

on this month (September 23) we did celeberate our Deaf day at Uyanwattha Stadium. our All members ware come at there (295 members) and we all happy on that day. we will held on that day 3 programmes. its 1. blood Donation( wow..its hear to good news. because this is first time blood donation programme in deaf persons in sri lanka. our 56 deaf persons did give thier blood.) 2. eye glass Donation( free give for more than 35 members) 3. travel for get donation to our deaf Association on sep 21 and 22. Also we create new t shirt for our deaf association.

we start new bank for deaf persons Saving and getting loans its Name “SANASA”. we think its more help to our deaf persons future life.

A savings and loan bank for deaf people? A blood drive with deaf donors? All new things, and all wonderful signs of progress.

The blood drive.

A vision exam.

New shirts for the members.

In other news, last August the charity Rebuilding Sri Lanka (RSL) opened its new school, library, and IT center in Uragasmanhandiya, a poor rural area northeast of Ambalangoda. To date, this school has already nabbed 500 members for the library and and 150 children for English tuition classes.

RSL’s school opening.

But RSL is dear to me because they have been the biggest supporters of Anoja Weerasinghe’s dance troupe. Anoja is one of Sri Lanka’s most famous film stars, and routinely puts on stage performances throughout Sri Lanka. Last October, we watched her group put on Mother Courage, performed in Sinhala!

In creative collaboration with Wolfgang Stange of AMICI Dance Theatre Company in London, Anoja has been working for two and a half years with Rohana Special School’s deaf and disabled children, planning and rehearsing a new dance performance: Memories of a Monkey Boy. Based on several grassroots stories about the 2004 tsunami, the cast includes both Anoja’s professional dancers and Rohana’s children.

While I was in Sri Lanka, Anoja’s group came three times for multiple-day rehearsals in Rohana’s main hall. All day, parents and children would peer from outside through the main hall’s windows enraptured by the music, the dancing, the star power, and the talent. For many deaf and disabled Rohana pupils who were chosen to be part of the final cast for Monkey Boy, it’s been a tremendous source of self-worth as they realize they have just as much skill and stage presence as any other dancer.

Actors flee the “tsunami.”

A scene from Monkey Boy.

Sanjeewa has fun in the congo line.

According to RSL:

[Last September,] the cast of deaf and differently abled children put on an astonishing show leading to standing ovations from the packed auditorium every single night!! Two of the actors have since been offered acting parts on TV and film. RSL have been actively involved in supporting this school and their production since March 2005 so it was very moving for us to see these children shine so brightly and to be given opportunities which had previously been an impossible dream.

There’s now the possibility that Monkey Boy might have a showing in London next June. That’s right. Some of my kids at Rohana might be going to the United Kingdom!! We’ll need to raise money first so you’ll definitely be hearing about this again shortly!

So there you have it. Two updates–and proof that life goes on in Sri Lanka and that people are still helping make wonderful things happen.

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Keynotin’ It

Thanks to Marilyn (you may have noticed her frequent comments on this blog while I was in Matara), I gave a presentation this afternoon to the ASL I and III classes at San Dieguito Academy. I’m always happy to help out my home secondary school district whenever I can, but this was a nice start to realizing one of my Ceylonese ambitions: giving presentations about Sri Lanka.

Instead of using Powerpoint, I created my presentation in Keynote, an awesome product from Apple. The effects there are just so snazzy, and the themes are so clean-looking. I’ve uploaded a HTML version, which doesn’t do the original format justice at all, but you’ll see what topics I touched on during my presentation.

The projector in the media center was UFO-sized, and the picture was gignormous. It must’ve been at least 15 feet high (plus five feet off the ground). It was really fun to have this huge screen to play with. I showed them the video and some photographs (both which are not available in the online version of the presentation), and the students seemed to really enjoy them.

I was really impressed with many of their questions. For example, one student asked if Sri Lankan Sign Language (SLSL) had a different syntax than ASL, and another one inquired whether SLSL had dominant-hand signs. I explained the unique Sinhala fingerspelling system and they seemed to totally get it. They asked about food, cricket, and the challenges of putting deaf, blind, and learning-challenged children in the same school. I was floored when one girl told me she had watched the 2007 ICC Cricket World Cup. And true to southern California form, one boy asked if Sri Lanka had any good surfing spots.

I had a hour and half, and pulled it off with beautiful timing. There was about 10 minutes after my last slide, which was a perfect amount of time to answer any last questions before the let’s-pack-up-three-minutes-before-the-closing-bell phase began. I made handouts too detailing the BSL fingerspelling alphabet, the Sinhala fingerspelling alphabet, 18 basic SLSL signs, and the web addresses of both this site and Rohana Special School.

I really couldn’t be more pleased with how it went! I gave proper attention to each topic without delving into the esoteric, kept it light and fresh, and engaged the students in practicing sign for the last half-hour.

Kudos to Kathryn Friedrichs, the lead ASL teacher, for voicing me the entire time, and doing a marvelous job of it!

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A New Direction

You’ll probably notice right away that something’s different with the website. There’s a new image on the top of the page (it’s a three-wheeler driving south on Galle Road in Hikkaduwa), and that’s not all.

Go to www.foundinceylon.com or click on “volunteering in sri lanka” on the top of this page and you’ll find a brand-new section about Found In Ceylon Experiences.

It’s my little project to help grease the tracks for people who are interested in volunteering at Rohana Special School. It’s exciting for two reasons: we’ve had great volunteers there and I want to make sure more keep coming into the picture, and it keeps me, in some way, stay connected with Sri Lanka.

I’ve been working on it for a while now and I’m really delighted to finally launch it. Go ahead and explore the pages! If you know someone who’d be a great volunteer, encourage him or her to visit this site.

At the same time, I’ve moved this entire blog section into its own /blog subdirectory, accessible anytime by typing www.foundinceylon.com/blog or by clicking the “blog” link on the top of any page. There’s also a new archive section to make it a little easier to find older posts. RSS feeds still work; you don’t have to change a thing.

You also might’ve noticed the Google ads on the right side. I’m using some new stuff to power the volunteer section which costs money, so I’m hoping those ads will offset the cost.

Also, if you’ve been subscribing to this blog via e-mail, and for any reason you don’t want to anymore, there’s an unsubscribe box on the right side (scroll down if you don’t see it).

And last, well, this has been a blog that is all about my experience in Sri Lanka. And clearly, I’m not in Sri Lanka anymore. But I don’t want to abandon this site and start up a new blog, so instead, I’m going to start including stuff that have nothing to do with Sri Lanka. I was doing that on other websites long before I started up this website one year ago, and I’m looking forward to doing it again. (edit: My plan was to turn this blog into a general blog and write about non-Sri Lankan stuff, but it just didn’t work. So this blog remains about Sri Lanka, and I’ve started up a separate blog at Found in Blank.)

I hope you’ll stick around. And if you do, I’d like to say “ayubowan” to a new website!

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The ILY Sign

Leah and I were standing in one of Miami’s Metrorail cars, waiting impatiently behind the closed doors as the train pulled into Government Center Station. Moments before the doors opened, I felt a hand brush against my back. It existed in that nether land between an accidental swing of the wrist and an intentional tap, but I heeded the signal and looked over at Leah on my right.

She glanced straight ahead and then put her head down. Huh. Maybe she’ll tell me later, I thought, and I looked again at the doors which stubbornly wouldn’t open.

Then the hand touched my back again, a bit more forcefully.

I looked over behind me, and saw a short middle-aged man wearing a dark blue cap and a gray mustache. He put up his left hand, forming the I-Love-You handshape. And then with a slight look of all-encompassing adoration in his eyes, he clearly enunciated, “I love you,” and smiled.

Then the doors finally opened.

Freaked out beyond imagination, I walked straight out, putting as much distance between me and my unrequited lover as soon as I could; a couple escalators later, I asked Leah if he was still behind us. He wasn’t.

Delusional proclamations of love notwithstanding, the public usage of the “ILY” sign among American deaf people appears to have changed in the past decade or so.

I remember watching a video of the 1988 Gallaudet DPN protest. There was a march to Capitol Hill, full of hundreds of goofy-looking deaf people (It was the Eighties, ok? Everyone looked goofy then.) proudly waving the “ILY” sign to the nation. Taken literally, those deaf people might as well as be screaming “I LOVE YOU!” over and over to the news cameras.

Watching this almost twenty years later made my skin crawl. Why should deaf people be represented by such a sappy expression? Why should the international deaf symbol translate directly to “I love you!”? It appears, well, childish. More (dare I say it) grassroots Deaf instead of educated Deaf? There’s nothing wrong with celebrating Deafness, nothing wrong with placing an deaf pride sticker on your car’s rear bumper. But does it have to be that sign, that message?

Can’t we come up with a bolder symbol to represent deaf people, and use the ILY sign for times when we actually mean it, like when Leah and I said good-bye to each other a few days later in Ft. Lauderdale Airport or when my parents say good night to me?

Back in Sri Lanka, the ILY sign represented just that–and more. I’m not entirely sure how the ILY sign made it to Sri Lanka, but it was used abundantly among the Rohana Special School children as well as the deaf adults around Matara. And heck, by every deaf person I met between Katunayake and Kataragama.

Chamali and Chintha.

The boys!

Sandya, Chamali, and Hasanthi.

Back: Adam, Ruwan, Ginette, Sanjeewa, Supun. Front: Nishan, Priyankara, Sudath, Shans Ahamed, Rajitha, Gayan, Fiona.

I don’t know, just looking at these pictures, the children screaming “I LOVE YOU,” I really feel it. I feel the love, man. The deaf Sri Lankans act more freely about love. Boys and girls who have coupled up at school go to great lengths to profess their love for each other without cluing in the matrons or teachers (but I’m sure this happens worldwide, too).

When someone holds up the ILY sign, I really feel they’re saying, “Hey, Adam, I really love you.”

Don’t get me wrong. This is still true in America as well. My parents using the ILY sign to me isn’t less meaningful. It’s the public usage of this symbol to represent the deaf community that bothers me.

However, in Sri Lanka, the ILY sign, when publicly displayed, identifies the signer’s deafness. This particular usage doesn’t seem common among American deaf people.

I remember one Sunday–the day Sophie arrived–when a bunch of us went into the sea at Polhena. This is a popular beach location, especially on Sundays. After splashing around with friends, I climbed out and went to talk with Ginette and Sophie who had opted to sit on the sand. When I started back towards the water, I saw a hundred Sri Lankan men and women jostling around in the shallow water.

For the life of me, I couldn’t pick out Amila, Ajith, Naushan, or Lakmal among all of the other beach-goers. To make it worse, strange men started waving at me, motioning me to come play with them. I couldn’t find anyone I knew in the water until I spotted an ILY sign being waved around. It was Amila trying to get my attention, and it worked.

When I swam up to them, I asked why they had used the ILY sign. Amila explained that it’s the best way for a deaf person to find another deaf person. With everyone else just waving open hands, using the ILY sign is saying, “The deaf people–your friends–are over here!” How ingenious. In the months that followed, I saw the ILY sign being used in the same manner many times among both the children and adults.

I’m surprised American deaf people haven’t picked up on this usage. There’s so many times I’d have loved my friends to just wave the ILY sign when standing in the middle of a crowd, making it easy for me to find them.

But it means so much more than a homing beacon. It’s a way of saying that you and I are the same. We’re both deaf, and we’re looking for each other. Nobody else–only us–knows what it’s like. Come and find us.

So have I created a double standard here? That it’s icky for American deaf people to just wave the ILY sign in front of news cameras, but it’s heart-melting for South Asian children to do it for the digital camera?

Maybe. And maybe I should do something about that–grudgingly accept the international symbol of deaf culture–but not right now. I’m too content to review pictures of endless ILYs–the exquisite blending of the I, L, and Y handshapes–being thrown around like the genuine, essential messages of love which they are.

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