Sending Stuart off

Yesterday was Stuart's final day in Sri Lanka and as he had been such a good kid, the Yogarajs decided to rent a van and take him all the way to the airport. Stuart, on the other hand, insisted he'd buy everyone lunch in Colombo first: 1) as a thank you for all they have done for him; 2) as it was Mrs. Yogaraj's birthday; and 3) since the flight was only leaving in the evening. I, being the designated Stuart-substitute, that is the new occupant of his room, was invited along for the extravaganza.

It starts well. We make our way down from the up-country to the sounds of Wycleff Jean's Welcome to Haiti-album, which Stuart had stumbled across in Colombo a few days ago, and which the Yogaraj-kids are polite enough to claim they enjoy (although I sincerely doubt they like anything but Tamil movie songs). An hour or so from Colombo, after some short-eats at a roadside café, Stuart remembers he hasn't reconfirmed his flight and wants to call the airline. However, he doesn't have their number and no one seems to know the number to an information service. We decide to stop at a communication center, but no: they don't know about any information service either. At this point Stuart is a bit worked up and has a bad premonition. Mrs. Yogaraj saves the day, or at least the next five minutes, by calling the airport and getting the number from them. Soon, however, I see Stuart in the phone booth, knocking the hand piece against his head. His flight to Quatar is heavily overbooked. He can get another one in the morning, they tell him. He complains that he has a connecting flight to Italy (he's going through Rome to see a friend there). No good. Perhaps if he comes to the office, they can work something out.

The car is turned around as we have to backtrack a bit to get onto the airport road. Stuart has acquired one of those black cartoon clouds, hovering above his head, and fears his whole schedule will be upset and that he will lose a day in Rome. The ride to the airport is anything but jolly, but all his Ganapathi pujas pay off. Miraculously we find the airline office. Miraculously it is open. Most miraculously of all: they manage to get him on his original flight. Outside again we high-five, not really believing how easy it had been. Stuart is sitting on a white cloud of elation.

The rest of the story is a bit of an anti-climax. Back on the lunch track in Colombo, we can't find the Thai restaurant Stuart had set his mind on (never trust Lonely Planet), but end up in a south-Indian joint (can't remember the name now (Aramvathi..? Amarathi..? Amravathi..? something like that!) but will add it later perhaps), which proves a good alternative by whipping up an excellent thali. Going back to the airport we strive to stay awake, all of us full and some of us sleep deprived. The goodbye scene is quick but we remain standing outside, watching Stuart and his 4 pieces of luggage work their way through security and then out of sight. Another chapter is closed in my Lankan experience - the last one reluctantly opened.

With Stuart's departure I've lost my anthropological companion and adventure mate. We've had some really good times together, but I am sure will meet again later and have some more. I've gained a new residence and an amazingly kind host mother. I am also so close to wrapping things up here that Stuart's departure only feels like the first step of my own. For Mrs. Yogaraj, however, the experience of sending him off was more akin to sending off one of her own sons, not knowing when she would see him again. (She is however certain he will come back with a wife soon). For six months, Stuart has been living with the family, and with his Tamil (and Sinhala) skills he had become a part, not only of the family, but also of the whole neighborhood. I followed him on his good-bye rounds which took us to 15 families or so. Mrs. Yogaraj, on the way back, smiled sadly and said she would dream of him this coming week. "He really is a good boy".

Back on campus today (the non-academic strike is finally called off), I met a few students too, who felt sorry that Stuart had left. One exclaimed (and I hope you are reading this Stuart :) ) that "he is such a talented man. Every word he says carries such weight!" Contemplative silence now. "And he speaks so fast!".

Hope you had a good flight, Stuart, and that you're accepted to the grad. school of your choice next year!

/haakon/