Big-talker, Firewalker

After six days the blisters are healing and the limp is gone. This was the last time, though. For sure! Firewalking? Been there, done that. Twice!

Being such a shy and modest person I failed to mention my firewalking debut last month. After the trip I made with Siva to Kataragama, with several detours in the upcountry, I had planned a quiet few days in Kandy. That was not to be. Stuart whisked me off to a new festival in the small town Aluthnuwara where devotees every year flock to the temple of Dedimunda to show the extent of their faith and the firmness of belief. Around this temple has sprung up a cult of bhakti worship, heavily influenced by Hinduism. Acts of self-mortification abound.

As we approached the temple we could see young men, in a roped-off area, dance wildly with hooks through the skin on their backs. On the hooks were attached ropes - ropes that were being pulled tight by fellow devotees. Coming closer I saw men and women of all ages with pieces of metal pierced through their cheeks and tongues, working themselves into trance-like states. An elderly exorcist (my current landlady's mother-in-law's brother) was chasing ghost after ghost out of bodies of innocent victims. Even Stuart had a ghost, he proclaimed, and proceeded swiftly to get rid of it through a process involving splitting limes in two and splashing water in Stuart's face. He then warned Stuart not to eat mutton or beef and never to be in a junction at midnight. It was that kind of an evening.

The relatively small square around the temple was absolutely packed with spectators and devotees. A large part of the crowd was there to see the Aluthnuwara perahera, a procession with elephants and dancers similar to the one in Kataragama (and the one currently going on in Kandy) , though on a smaller scale. This was also the part of the crowd that was perfectly content just watching the possessed dancers and self-mutilating devotees of Dedimunda. Further, they were perfectly happy just watching the climax of the evening: the firewalking. I counted myself to this group.

When we arrived at 9 pm a fire had been burning for hours and hours in the center of the roped-off area, and still thick logs were added to it. By 5 am it was finally decided that there were enough red-hot coals, and men proceeded to prepare a strip of them about 5 meters long and a meter wide. Having seen firewalking on a previous occasion in the upcountry, I was prepared for absolute mayhem. I clung to my camera, ready to catch some of it on film (or CMOS I suppose). I had positioned myself well and was snapping away happily, but as 40 or 50 people had passed in front of me in this manner I suddenly realized I had just taken a picture of Stuart. I had last seen him a few minutes earlier, getting into the dancing, doing some moves he must have picked up in Haiti. I had to reassess the situation. Being of a highly competitive nature I couldn't let Stuart triumph like this without being a part of it myself. I looked at the coals. They seemed to have died off a tad bit. Nervously I stashed away the camera in my backpack and got in line.

The following minutes are a bit blurry. I remember I ran across. I remember what was almost a disappointment at the lack of pain. I remember going across again at a more relaxed pace. Still no burns - only a huge adrenalin kick. We returned to Kandy tired but with a sense of accomplishment. I considered myself I retired firewalker. That was not to be.

Fast forward to last week.

My friend Vikram had invited Siva and I along for a weekend trip to his village Udappu, near Puttalam, on the west coast. We gladly accepted, and leave after lectures on Friday afternoon. Our visit coincides with the temple festival at Muneshwaram, near Chillaw, about an hour away. Sunday is the big day for firewalking, Vikram had told me and I had let it slip that I had already gone firewalking in Aluthnuwara. I had said it wasn't nearly such a big deal as I thought it would be. Bad call!

We spend Friday night and Saturday relaxing and visiting Vikram's friends and relations in Udappu. Come Sunday afternoon we're on the bus to Muneshwaram. I am perfectly unaware that Vikram has taken my loose-mouthed statement to mean that I would love to go firewalking again - a message he had let pass on to a number of his friends who would be present.

The three of us arrive in a very festive Muneshwaram and anticipation is in the air. Here and there devotees clad in orange- and peach-colored sarongs, with beads around their necks, are resting in the shade or praying at the temples. Like at Aluthnuwara, the majority however, are only here to observe the spectacle and perhaps to do a puja. We make our way to the main temple where a huge crowd is watching as a crew starts preparing the firewalk. Among the hundreds of people present I see four or five western tourists, cameras dangling around their necks and worried looks on their faces. This is when Vikram announces that we have to get ready. I ask, "ready for what?" but get no reply. Siva too is left in the shadows. On Vikram's command we deposit our sandals with a lady outside one of the smaller temples and proceed barefoot through the bazaars until we meet up with a group of his friends resting near a bo tree.

The group had walked the 26 kilometers from Udappu, starting the previous night. I had heard them pass our house at around 2 am, singing merrily, but was too tired to wonder what was going on. Now I'm impressed with their appearance. In their sarongs they remind me of the sadhus of India. I ask them about the pilgrimage and whether they will firewalk. This is where the confusion sets in. Not only will they firewalk but also they are convinced that Siva and I have come in order to walk with them. They have brought extra sarongs. When I try to laugh it off they smile back at me, thinking I am joking. When I explain that I am not joking and that I'd rather just watch they look at me like they can't make sense of what I am saying. Vikram argues "but you told me you wanted to!" It was almost as if my current stand was a personal insult to him.

I couldn't understand why the issue was so important. Were they challenging me? Did they not believe my story about Aluthnuwara and therefore wanted to test my courage? Did Vikram want to bask in the glory of my devotion? Or did he simply want the best for me - a divine blessing for his friend? In retrospect I opt for this latter explanation. Vikram is one of the more religiously attuned of my Tamil student friends. He doesn't see firewalking as a courageous act, but as a transaction between man and God. A confirmation of faith. It didn't seem to matter that I confessed being non-religious. I don't think many Srilankans grasp the concept (this reminds me a lot of the reactions I got from people in Texas when I was an exchange student there. "But... how can you not believe in God?")

I seem to be winning the battle of wills when Siva, who has been just as reluctant to walk as I, suddenly caves in and accepts a sarong. History is repeating itself. I find I cannot be the only one not walking. And besides, their attempts at persuading me have worn off, finally making it possible for a stubborn soul like I to change my mind. I accept a sarong and don it for a ritual bath in a nearby well.

From there on I am king of the hill for an hour so. I feel like a superstar as we return through the bazaars to the temple. People want to shake my hand. They congratulate me. They yell encouraging words. They are all smiles. And I enjoy the attention. After smearing holy ashes on our foreheads, chests and shoulders we're ready for action. So are 3-400 others, however. The ordeal, I am to learn, is not confined to the firewalking alone. First you have to elbow your way into the line. The concept of the line (like secularity), I believe, was never very clearly understood in Sri Lanka (with an amazing exception to Peradeniya campus). On this occasion 3-400 people are vying to be among the very first across. Apparently, the earlier you walk the more auspicious of an act it is.

It takes Siva and I 15 minutes just to get reach the start of the single file line that is stretching along to sides of the temple square before ending where the coals begin. I am finally waved into the single file by a guard who clearly is of the opinion that a white firewalker should never have to wait for long. Siva is allowed to go with me. I, on the other hand, had been happy to wait. I was sharing my experience from Aluthnuwara with Siva, telling him the coals were bound to be a lot cooler when it is finally our turn. All too soon it is.

Again, a blur. I do remember the old lady in front of me starting to jump around as if her degree of possession rose exponentially with the decreased distance to the coals. I remember a guard saying "just shout 'Arogera'* and go!" I remember doing just that. I remember thinking: "Shit! I am scorching my feet!!!" And I remember the crowd gasping as I jumped into the small pit of water at the end of the ditch. But this is when the true ordeal begins.

I put on a brave smile and shake a few hands as we pass through the corridor in the crowd and entered the temple. The burning sensation doesn't stop, however. And when I sit down for a second with Siva, it almost gets intolerable. Walking somewhat soothes the pain. I was never very good at keeping suffering to myself and Vikram and his friends, who have now joined us, look worried when they see my troubled face. Are they too, burned? Should I just pretend I am fine? If I tell, maybe they can help me do something about it? Or will they gloat that their religious belief protected them, whereas I have none and got burned? I decide to tell them that I'm worried I burned myself badly. Vikram smiles apologetically and assures me that it will only burn for a couple of hours. Tomorrow, for sure, I'll be fine, he says.

The bus returning to Udappu is packed with excited youth chattering away. I have to stand, which I don't mind as it gives me a chance to shift around a little bit. The ceiling is low, however, forcing me to bend my head at a 90-degree angle. I feel like a freak. Like a caged animal. I am sure I have the gloomy face of one.

Before going to bed Vikram insists I smear honey on the soles of my feet. At this point I'm already a bit more optimistic, having downed a large bottle of beer at Vikram's uncle's house where we had been for dinner. A beer-buzz, homegrown prawns (Vikram's uncle owns a prawn farm) and a cool concrete floor took the edge off the burn. The honey and the next 6 hours must have taken care of the rest, because waking up the next day I felt a new man, with only a few blisters to show for the previous days events. But never again will I go firewalking! (I think).

/haakon/

* 'Arogera' is what devotees shout when they’re going through physical ordeals to show their faith. It is a call to God for protection. (Correct me if I'm wrong, anyone).