My colleague and I arrived in Colombo following a 6 hour journey from Vavuniya just in time to hit the after work rush hour. My colleague had a meeting to attend at 7pm and she suggested I attend in order to learn the background on a project she will be working on. We would have been precisely on time had the driver known where our house was, but unfortunately this was not the case. Our driver is Tamil and the ethnic makeup of Colombo is Sinhalese. He was clearly uncomfortable asking directions using his Sinhala and I’ve been told that this happens often with the two ethnicities being divided and even more so after the war. I was recently informed one of the greatest fears of a Tamil driver would be to hit a Sinhalese child with a car in that more than likely the driver would be dragged out and killed in the street.
So this is the background to why we drove in circles for some time. Finally we found the house dropped our bags and then jumped in a tuk tuk taxi for the meeting. We met with a German man and Scottish woman, both the heads of two other NGOs. It was a working dinner meeting in a posh dinner spot called the Park Street Mew-high ceilings, plush leather couches, trendy paintings and everyone wearing black. I stuck out like sore thumb in just having come from the field-sweaty, hair unkempt and dressed in a flowing pale blue skirt and loose cotton top. They seemed not to notice my scruffiness-or perhaps this is expected from field workers. We sat for a two hour discussion on an upcoming proposal for monitoring food security in the northern Jaffna area-still under control of the LTTE. Development buzzword lingo was flying around the table and I felt like I was back in my Human Security class only these topics were relevant and interesting.
Following the meeting we went to a nice Italian restaurant to get some pizza and wine. Our waiters were clearly ready for us to be finished and had a taxi waiting for us to take us home. After leaving the gate, we could smell the marijuana before we could see anyone smoking it. As it turns out, the source of the weed was our fearless taxi driver behind a tree having a midnight toke while waiting to drive us home. I think that his being stoned helped with the events that were about to unfold.
Around 1am we returned to the house and to our surprise our guard had locked the gate from the inside. My colleague called the three numbers the guard had left with her just in case any event of this nature should take place. Unfortunately every time she dialed there was no answer. Except for one when a person answered and informed us that it was not the number of a guard.
Meanwhile our stoned taxi driver sat waiting for us to go in the gate. When he realized something was wrong he came and asked us what was going on. After about 20 minutes of trying to call and clanking on the iron gate to try an wake someone up it was decided that we would need to go to a hotel or somehow get over the 8 foot wall-avoiding the sharp points at the main gate. The taxi driver was happy to assist. My colleague was first-she stood on his shoulders and then managed to pull herself up the wall and got really scared at the top because she was afraid as to how to get down on the other side. The taxi driver jumped the wall and helped her down on the other side. They checked the guard station, which had all the lights turned on, but no guard to be found. The taxi driver returned and jumped back over to help me.
So it was my turn. I was wearing a skirt, and he told me to tie it so it was more like trousers. He then once again put me on his shoulders and boosted me up so that I could jump the wall-unfortunately I could not manage to pull myself up on the left side due to a shoulder injury circa 2009 when I had surgery. So we were back to square one.
My colleague at this point was trying to break the lock with a hammer. I began running to neighboring gates to see if any other guards actually did their job unlike ours and may have a ladder. The guard next door was indeed at his post along with an incredibly cute little dog. The taxi driver had not left and came with me to ask the guard if he had a ladder. The conversation took place in Sinhala and I had assumed there was no ladder. I walked back to the gate with a sense of defeat.
Back at the gate, my colleague was still trying unsuccessfully to break the lock. Then I noticed the guard and taxi driver dragging a large metal frame for a gate with them. They came to our gate and put the frame against the wall holding it in place so that I could use it as a ladder to get me to the top. I managed to quickly get to the top and then once again our taxi driver jumped the wall and put me on his shoulders to lower me down on the other side.
Following this he made his final jump over the wall in order to return to his taxi. My colleague and I attempted to pay him extra and he refused-instead he gave us his number and said to call if we ever needed a taxi driver in Colombo. Somehow I think I shall be giving him a call considering he did all that for $2.
As for the guard, when confronted in the morning where he was the night before, he denied not being at his post. He also said he had his phone with him at all times. A blank stare was his reply when we said if all that was true, then why the hell we had to try for an hour to break the lock and jump the fence.
I believe it may be time to hire a new guard. I’m going to suggest the taxi driver fill the post.
