The True Cost of Bananas

Today, I learned about the plans of the American based food company Dole to destroy thousands of acres of protected land in Samawathiya National Park, Sri Lanka to begin a banana plantation. The operation is illegal, but this land is currently controlled by the Sri Lankan Army and officials from the Department of Wildlife are being excluded from the area. The park is home to about 400 elephants and is an important ecosystem for diverse wildlife. I have copied a relevant link to the bottom of this post.

Shermin and I are putting our energy into combating the destruction of the park, hopefully with the help of environmental lawyers and NGOs. If you know of any individuals or organizations who would be interested in supporting our efforts or who could provide useful contacts, please forward this message along and/or send me their contact information. Until now, Sri Lanka has largely remained free from industrial food corporations; for the welfare of the Sri Lankan people and its wildlife it would be best to keep it that way.

Lakbima News article on Dole park destruction:

http://www.lakbimanews.lk/inde ​x.php?option=com_content&view=​article&id=2268%3Apark-land-do​ led-out-for-bananas-in-our-ban​ana-republic&catid=35%3Anews-f​ eatures&Itemid=37

Thank you for your support!

'Wild' House Decorations

You go to hit the light switch, a frog is on the wall.

You eat dinner, a gecko falls on your plate.

You open a window, a trapped lizard is waiting to escape.

You go to bed, a lizard is clinging to your mosquito net.

You fall asleep, the flea bitten cat, Calvin, pops in through the window.

You take a shower, a toad is peeping out from the bubbles.

You're sitting on the john, you have a staring contest with a toad.

You shake out your shoe, a toad pops out.

You walk down the hall, a toad is underfoot.

Food, Food, and More Food

In general, Sri Lankans are extremely hospitable and they love to feed you. Chappa, Ashoka’s wife, recounted that her grandparents used to cook enough rice for 15 people and then hail random passers-by to come inside and eat. Seems I’ve found my heaven. I mentioned before that we are often offered food when we visit the village houses during the survey. Actually, offered is not a strong enough word. If a household wishes you to eat, you are not walking away with an empty tummy. As you all know, I absolutely love food so in theory this shouldn’t be a bad thing. I do feel awkward accepting food from these people, especially when I have nothing to offer in return, but it would be ruder to refuse them. Sometimes I am lucky and the households bring out a succulent mango or a cup of sweet tea. The other day I was presented with sweet mung bean cakes to accompany my tea! More often though, I am met with a cornucopia of bananas; the one fruit I cannot eat (it gives me an awful tummy ache). I love mango, papaya, watermelon, custard apple, jack fruit, and oranges. Banana is the only one I wish to avoid, but it seems I cannot get enough of them in this country. Sameera and Tharanga now giggle every time they see a household approach me with a bunch of bananas; I think it’s mostly a reaction to my effort to disguise my crestfallen face. The first few houses I had no choice but to eat the banana(s). And before I forget to mention, most householders are not satisfied with you consuming just one fruit, rather they would see you eat 2 or 3. And as you are about to say farewell, they insist you take any uneaten fruit with you. At the last few houses I have been able to politely stick the bananas in my bag and indicate that I will enjoy them later - I take them home to Shermin, Lizzie, and Ashoka who are thrilled.

The other morning, one family gave us a bunch of bananas, the next house gave us watermelon, and at the final house we were served tea, mung bean cakes, and bananas. This last family also tried to give us two bunches of bananas to take home, but Sameera was successful in talking them down to one. That same evening, another household brought out more bananas and cream crackers. Yesterday, however, had to be the most extreme food experience of the trip. It was the first day we strayed beyond our neighborhood. Sameera drove Tharanga and me to a village way out in the boonies. It took us an hour to reach our destination and we had to pull over several times in order to allow another vehicle to squeeze past us. Once we arrived though, my breath was taken away by the view. The village is snuggled among craggy hills dotted with swaying coconut palms and brightly colored kingfishers swooping from branch to branch. It’s a strange, but entrancing mix of hill country meets tropical island. But, back to the topic of food! Just as I was about to break out my water bottle, the first household brought us out tea, and yes you guessed it - a bunch of bananas! Although the tea was steaming, I was happy to rehydrate. The second household gave each of us a golden coconut to drink. I am not a big coconut fan, but I have learned to enjoy them and the golden coconut is my favorite. If you have never drunk a coconut, you would be astonished to discover the amount of liquid they hold, at least 2 or 3 brimming glasses worth. Sameera and Tharanga quickly polished theirs off and I was not far behind; it was hot and I had just trampled over 5 hectares of rough countryside (Greta, how many square meters in a hectare??). Feeling refreshed, we set off for the third house. When Tharanga and I returned from taking waypoints, we were offered more coconut juice! This time though, the woman gave it to us in glasses and she had added sugar to it! I drank two glasses and firmly, but politely refused a third. By this time my bladder was beginning to protest, but we had a couple more houses to cover before returning to the research station – I was not thinking good thoughts about the bumpy journey home. The next property was hug and there was a miscommunication about the boundaries. In the end, Tharanga and I ended up having to walk over it twice. We finally finished and I was glad that we seemed to have evaded the inevitable coconut. No such luck. The householder followed us over to the next house and when I returned from the final survey, there was a green coconut awaiting me. Fortunately, I had been able to relieve myself in the farmer’s outdoor toilet (which is really just a porcelain hole in the ground). Oh, and please let me take minute to brag: I did it completely Sri Lankan style! No toilet paper, just a bucket of water and my left hand. Ok, back to the original storyline. Again, Sameera and Tharanga efficiently polished theirs off, men! I have to admit I took a bit longer on this one. I finally finished and relinquished the drained husk to the host. I was about to heave a mighty sigh of relief when the host returned with the fruit, this time cut open. I seriously did not think my stomach could hold anymore, but I forced down the slimy flesh and smiled graciously at my host, cheeks bulging. May I provide a polite suggestion: chuck the over-the-counter laxatives and grab yourself a coconut…or 3. Ahhh, the sacrifices I make for science.

The Project

The survey began on Tuesday. In the past four days we visited 36 houses – so quite an impressive start! Survey team members: Sameera, Kumari, Tharanga, and me. Ideally, Sameera and Kumari administer the questionnaire to the heads of household and Tharanga and I scout out the property, taking GPS way points of property boundaries and gardens, and taking pictures of important things such as tap lines and outdoor toilets. Tharanga and I also compile a list of the crops that are cultivated on the properties. At first my identification skills were limited to the obvious: coconut, mango, papaya, spinach, rice, and banana. Thanks to Sameera and Tharanga, I can now recognize manioc, sweet potato, jack fruit, pomegranate, lime, jasmine, anoda, silme apple, wood apple, ugarassa, and bread fruit. Tharanga’s English is limited, but it helps that we can point to things and we have gotten good at interpreting hand and face gestures.

Typically, Sameera asks the family some opening questions before asking for permission to take photos of the property. During this interval I quickly sketch a map of the property to orient myself and try to gauge the temperature of our reception, which is difficult since I can’t speak the language. Some landowners are hesitant to let me walk around while others enthusiastically agree and even invite us to share some tea and fruit (these are my favorite houses!). At times Sameera and/or Tharanga have said that something is not right with the household and that I have to be careful while on my reconnaissance mission. For me, this only adds to the adventure and as of yet we have not stumbled onto any unpleasant scenes. But, I have managed to give Sameera and Tharanga a number of tiny heart attacks. Although I do my best to maintain constant vigilance, my attention often gets stuck on a plant I don’t recognize or a particularly interesting out-house set up and I miss the finer details, such as the ant nest or bee hive I am about to crash into. For example, the other day I was scouting out the back garden of a house and Tharanga was walking in front of me. I noticed a water meter and stopped to make a note of it. What appeared to be huge, red ants were crawling all over it and I shouted over to Tharanga to come take a look. As I stuck my face closer to get a better view, I noticed these ants had wings and were in fact not ants, but wasps. Tharanga had a look of horror on his face and motioned for me to move away quickly and quietly. “Very dangerous! Move away, be quiet!” He hissed. Ooops. The next day we went to take a survey of the school principal’s house. Again, Tharanga and I were walking around the yard when I looked up to see a panicked look on Tharanga’s face, “Careful, careful!” He was pointing to the tree trunk immediately to my left that I had been about to rest my hand on. You have got to be kidding me; there was a honey beehive in a flower pot attached to the trunk. As we walked on to another house, I brushed against a bush and a small thorn embedded itself in my finger. “Ah! Oh no, very poisonous, very poisonous!” Sameera cried. Fortunately, there appears to have been no harm done – I still have all of my fingers. On our walk home I was enjoying the sunset and happened to recognized a beautiful flower on the side of the road. It was the wara flower that Tharanga had pointed out to me on the beach at Yala Park. “Ooh!” I exclaimed and I rushed over to smell the flower, glad to finally have found something harmless to admire. I had just started to take a big sniff when Sameera rushed over yelling, “No, no! Very poisonous!” Yeesh, you can’t even smell the roses without putting your life at risk.

Apart from my numerous close calls, the survey really is going well. It is exhausting to walk around all day in the heat, but I get so absorbed in the work that I hardly notice the uncomfortable conditions. The project has great significance to the villagers and local wildlife, and I feel I have finally become involved in the ideal project for me. Here is some more background information and a little of what we have discovered so far. Villagers have settled down immediately adjacent to the park: a barbed wire fence, which is regularly broken by the elephants, and a road are the only barriers between farms and over 600 elephants. Imagine standing in the middle of a road, you look to your left and you see a scrubby, brushy wilderness dotted with elephants, some of whom are close enough to almost snatch you up with their trunks. You turn your head to the right and you could reach out and pluck a banana or mango from a fruit stand. Tourists and locals often buy fruit from these stands, cross the road, and toss their purchase to a waiting elephant. Hmmm…and people wonder why there is human-elephant conflict? The elephants are not only taught that there is a plentiful food source, but are encouraged to partake in it. The really sad thing is that elephants that cross the fence and enter in to the local farms are at risk of being killed because they are viewed as a dangerous pest by farmers. Take a minute to appreciate which party created the problem and which party suffers the most severe consequence. I am implicating power hungry humans as the guilty party, not the villagers. They are just as much victims of the greedy politicians and large industries that have created this unbalanced system. Despite the costs the villagers face from elephants raiding their crops, most villagers tell us that they see the park and its wildlife as a good thing; some are even worried about its future. To make matters worse, we have heard numerous reports that wild elephants are being kidnapped from the park, but we have no clue who is behind it. There is also a battle over the wildlife corridors leading out of the park and people are currently trying to fence them off – elephants are knocking the fences down. We had a visitor yesterday who suggested that the people should be fenced in. So as you can see, it is a very tricky and delicate situation. I find myself further invested in the conflict each day.

Mama Godak Shaktimat!

Thanks to Tharanga’s Sinhalese lessons, I have learned a new favorite phrase, “Mama godak shaktimat!” or “I am very strong!” Although I learned it just yesterday, I enjoy finding any excuse to use it and I thought it would make the perfect title for my running update. I mentioned a while back that Lizzie and I were going to run/bike together, however that idea never came to fruition, but not for lack of trying. There is either a problem with the tire pump, the bike tire itself, or our ability (or lack thereof) to pump a tire. Where ever the problem may lie, the bike tires are now more deflated than they were to begin with. Also, we have determined it would be pretty risky to bike along the main road. At least while running I can dodge off the side of the road as a semi whooses by (which is not too often), but maneuvering on a bike would prove much more difficult. Sidewalks do not exist in this country. The end result has been that I have been running on my own, which was quite daunting at first.

As a white woman I attract a lot of attention, no matter what I am doing. Running down the street in the Sri Lankan heat only adds to the spectacle. Not to mention that running gear is pretty outrageous. Sri Lanka is a very conservative country and therefore to avoid offending anyone I swaddle myself in a couple layers of clothing. Typically I wear my brother’s old, green Dartmouth workout shorts. They reach past my knees and I could almost fit both of my legs into one pant hole. On top, I had been wearing a sleeveless shirt with a long sleeve, loose fitting button-up shirt over it. And don’t forget the bandana! The end effect is that of a colorful, red-faced laundry heap cruising down the street. I am always greeted with smiles and chuckles and people often yell, “Come on, come on!” or “Faster, faster!”

For a while, I was running consistently every other day at 4:45 pm. The neighborhood children cottened on to my schedule and were often waiting to greet me…at a safe distance of course. They couldn’t quite decide what to make of me. After several encounters one group of children gathered the courage to tail me. I could hear their feet scuffling on the ground behind me, so I spun around to face them, grinning. They screeched to a halt, but didn’t retreat. They watched me warily, giggling nervously. Smiling, I slowly approached. By the time I reached them, they were blushing and looking nervously at one another. With a big grin on my face I said, “Ecka…decka…tuna!” (1…2…3!) And flung my hand forward. We took off, racing each other down the street. The kids were shrieking with laughter and I was smiling through the sweat dripping down my face. We reached their house, panting and smiling. It felt good to make some new friends, even very young ones, in a foreign country. That will forever remain among my top running experiences.

Because of the heat, I have had trouble running as long as I would like, but it feels wonderful to be able to stretch my legs at least for a bit. I have also been able to keep up with my Tough Mudder workout! For those of you unfamiliar with the Tough Mudder, please check out this website: http://toughmudder.com/training-prep/
And be sure to watch the video that is about half way down the page. For a couple of reasons, it took me a couple of weeks to get back into the Tough Mudder routine in Sri Lanka. First, I wanted to get to know the research crew before whipping out my exercise routine. It takes a special sort of friend not to judge your butt sweat stains and awkward exercise stances. Fortunately, I have a high tolerance for self-deprecation and I have a found an accepting group of friends. Secondly, I am lacking equipment and had to spend some time learning how to work with my new environment. I am now able to do most of the routine by substituting bricks for weights, but I am still looking for a good place to work on my pull ups…maybe the mango tree out front? I have caught our neighbors furtively glancing over the hedge, gaping at my unusual habits. Who knows what Uncle makes of it, maybe it’s best that I don’t know. But I can now say with certainty that you haven’t trained for the Tough Mudder until you have trained in Sri Lanka!

Water Conflict

The other afternoon I went to take a shower only to find that there was no electricity…and no water. Huge bummer  Actually, it wasn’t that the water wasn’t running, but that without electricity we couldn’t pump water from the lower water tank to the raised water tank, which is the one that supplies the house with tap water. Shermin and Ashoka had been out running errands, and when they returned Ashoka hooked up the jeep’s engine to the water pump and moved water to the upper tank. What a hero! At least for the moment. Unfortunately, there still wasn’t very much water so he suggested we wait a little longer to see if the electricity returned. Resigned to a sticky evening, I went to sit out on the front porch with Shermin and Lizzie.

Not ten minutes later, I noticed Ashoka swaggering down the hallway in his boxers with a towel draped around his neck – he was heading towards the shower in the backyard! I pointed him out to Shermin and Lizzie, and we all sat there looking bewildered. What did he think he was doing, telling us there was no water and then sneaking out back to shower! “Hey there, Mister! Where d’ya think you’re going?!” I called. He either hadn’t heard me or was ignoring me and kept on walking. Either way, his lack of response served to further incriminate him. I couldn’t believe it, the little sneakster! In truth, I couldn’t believe that Ashoka would actually tell us there wasn’t water and then go take a shower; he’s too honest and nice. But I couldn’t think of another explanation for his attire. I shouted after him again and this time he turned around.

“Where ya goin’, Ashoka? Off to take a nice, refreshing shower?” I asked. He started giggling and looked very confused.
“Whaat?” He replied.
Shermin and Lizzie joined in to question him about his towel and lack of shirt.
“No, no!” he protested, “I am just going to make a phone call. It’s so hot I decided not to wear a shirt and I brought my towel along so I would be ready when the electricity comes back on.”

Uh-huh, Ashoka, a likely story…a likely story. He was carrying his cell phone though.

Confused in Translation

Tuesday was to be the start of the project I am working on, but due to Sameera’s schedule and the need for revisions on the survey, we are holding off until next week. Consequently, I was able to spend Tuesday practicing with the GPS and re-formatting the survey with Shermin and Ashoka’s sister, Kumari. Kumari is finishing her B.A. in sociology and this is a perfect opportunity for her to work on a relevant project. Sameera will administer the survey to the men of the households, Kumari will speak with the women, and I will take GPS points of the house and garden, and take notes on the crops that are present. Hopefully it will be a near perfect system.

Shermin and I were able to come up with an excel datasheet that corresponds to the survey and the original plan was to bring a computer into the field and record data directly into the excel sheet. However, after listening to Kumari and Ashoka’s suggestions we have decided it would be best to administer the survey using pen and paper, as the local villagers are sometimes suspicious of technology and may be apt to give less honest answers if a computer were used. Our change of strategy meant that a new survey sheet had to be created. So when Shermin and the others left for the park, Kumari and I were left to the task of generating a new document. Kumari’s English is a bit rough and she often has difficulty understanding me. Additionally, I still have trouble reading the expression of Sri Lankans. For example, they commonly assume a neutral expression and wobble their heads in a figure eight pattern, which to me looks like a mannerism that would express frustration or even anger in the U.S. However, here it has absolutely no negative connotation and simply means ‘sure’ or ‘OK.’ With these hurdles in mind, I was a little unsure how much we would be able to accomplish.

I had some difficulty explaining reasons for certain formatting to Kumari and I was often not sure whether or not she was following my train of thought. I was often met with a blank stare and I was uncertain whether this meant she had no objections or she had absolutely no idea what I had just said to her. Consequently, I think there were times when I repeated things unnecessarily, which perplexed her because she had understood the first time. There were also instances in which we had to break out the dictionary and puzzle things out together. However, we successfully completed our work with only one large, and hilarious, hiccup.

We reached a survey question about the material of the house’s floor and were brainstorming the possible responses. I figured dirt and tile pretty much covered the possibilities in this region, but Kumari was insistent that there remained a third common option. She couldn’t think of the English word and we couldn’t rely on the dictionary because it only offers translations from English into Sinhalese, so she tried to describe it to me. “Hmmmm, ok – a cow put someone in the ground.” She explained. I looked at her, utterly perplexed. What?? A cow put someone in the ground? Seeing my confused expression, she repeated herself. After a bit of thinking, I realized she probably meant something, not someone. So what does a cow put in the ground? She couldn’t mean manure, could she? A floor made of poop?! I couldn’t think of anything else, so I suggested manure, but the word in the dictionary didn’t match what she was thinking of. Without using the word ‘poop,’ I tried to offer some euphemisms: pellet, patty, etc. None of them were in the dictionary or else they didn’t match the word she was thinking of. It wasn’t until Shermin arrived later that night and we recounted our story that we determined Kumari was in fact referring to cow dung! Guess the non-descript, ratty carpeting in my old dorm is rather appealing after all.

I pulled a fast one on y'all!

I have to admit that I'm a bit disappointed in all of you for not catching the joke I made about the house! I posted a picture of a simple wooden hut and claimed it was our house and you all bought it, haha! Well to put things straight, I do not sleep on the dirt floor of a tiny lean-to. There is now a picture up of the bunk-bed I share with Lizzie and I will post a better picture of our real house in the next couple of days. We have running water and electricity (for the most part). We also have a kitchen equipped with a gas stove, so we are pretty civilized. The floors of the house are tiled and we have a sturdy roof over our heads.

Having Second Thoughts....

But only on food! In my last post I passionately declared my love of 'food.' Let me change that statement to 'most food.' Ten minutes ago I put the most vile substance into my mouth and I am still suffering from the aftershocks of the aftertaste. Since my arrival over a week ago, I have been hearing about the elusive durian fruit, infamous for it's potent smell. Well, we managed to pick up a specimen at a roadside market during our trip to Colombo yesterday. Tonight we decided to split it open, and I was very curious, but a bit apprehensive as Sameera cut open the fruit (which looks like a green coconut with impressive spikes - actually I think the Sri Lankans are confused, this is definitely supposed to be a weapon, not a food). The smell was not so bad. In fact I rather enjoyed it. Lizzie, Sameera, Ashoka, and I took some photos before eating the fruit and after...I will post those soon for your amusement. Please promise to still be friends with me after you see them! (Kristen and Liz, I think these photos offer some stiff competition for the horrendous picture that was taken of me in Texas, if that's possible). Lizzie offers a clean description of the taste: vanilla custard with hints of garlic. If you asked me, I would say it tastes like the smell of vomit, and yes I do mean this literally - just look at the expression on my face in the pictures! Strangely, I was the only one to act in such an extreme manner. Everyone else enjoys it. However, I am told it is an acquired taste...I am not sure I am willing to put the energy into building a relationship with this shady durian fruit. On the bright side though, I now feel balanced. I have found my favorite fruit, onoda, and the single most disgusting fruit on the face of the planet, durian. I have mapped the gustatory spectrum of fruit!