Sri Lanka – Part 14 – Rice wine and mud huts

Sri Lanka part 14 – Rice wine and mud huts

This first day sees me swimming and enjoying chatting with the other islanders as well as constantly popping my head into and out of the tiny tent. My very own private space. Bliss. Every item I have is neatly organised into piles around my bed. (The sleeping bag placed in the centre, on the floor). Running down the left side there’s my ambient bedside lamp (the head torch) placed just outside of the library (A pile of 3 books close to my head). The chest of drawers consists of 4 piles of clothes. Long sleeves, short sleeves, bottoms, underwear/swimwear. By the door (zip) is my shoe cupboard: Walking boots and reefs. Running up the right side from feet up are my snorkel and mask, sarong, hat, Mozi cream leading up to the wash kit placed on top of my towel. Back down, right by the entrance to the door are mosquito coils. All hail to the mosquito coils!! These things are a god send. They’re green coils that clip to a metal stand about an inch high. You light the end and like a jostick, it smokes. The mosquitos don’t like the scent or the smoke. In India, whilst waiting for a 12-hour delayed train, Stu and I sat huddled together surrounded by these coils. It made breathing a little difficult but we saved ourselves from being constantly injected with Mozi saliva. These bitey buzzers are keeping me on my toes during this trip!

‘Lisa darling, come on over here, let’s get ourselves organised, the jolly adventure begins shortly’

‘Coming Alfred’. I find myself taking on a hint of his well to do accent. Feeling slightly self-conscious about the way I lazily pronounce words.

The sand has cooled enough for me to stay bare footed. I love having naked feet. I’ve often said I have tribal ladies feet. They’re long and sturdy and tough underneath. Back in India our yoga teacher had us spend time just standing and connecting with our feet. Up until that point I’d always hated my feet. My Mum, sister and aunties have small lady like ones. Taunting my big feet was the norm. Turns out they’re a very normal sized pair of feet for my height and very handy for balancing in yoga poses. The yoga teacher had us practice placing one toe onto the floor at a time. At first this seemed impossible, I didn’t even realise my toes could move separately from each other. After plenty of practice, my chubby piggies got on board and started doing what my mind asked. Amazing! I now love my feet!

Gazing around the luxury apartment one more time, I zip up the door and make my way toward the others. They’re working on building what looks to be a large bonfire for this evening’s ‘party’.

‘Hey Lisa’ shouts a blonde haired chiselled 20 something German named Kristian. ‘Are you certain you would like to go with our crazy Alfred, I am happy to take your place if you so wish?’

Laughing as I get closer to the group I reply ‘Crazy Alfred? He didn’t introduce himself to me as crazy Alfred. Is there something I need to know?’

‘Darling Lisa, do not listen to this handsome young man’ responds Alfred as he puts his arm around the bare broad shoulders of Kristian, ‘You shall be safe with me will she not Kristian?’

I spot Kristian smile a silent reply even though my eyes have drifted slowly from his face all the way down his 8 pack. ‘Dear god this guy must work out a lot’. I notice, behind, in the distance Stu swinging in his hammock whilst looking over and listening. His face neutral but I wonder if I sense something else. An invisible eye roll and some resignation perhaps. I think if he did speak he’d say ‘Are you sure about going off on a moped, into the jungle, with this guy you met a few hours ago?’ He does however know me well enough after 3 months of travel that it’s pointless. I’m going to do whatever feels right for me.

‘Right Alfred, what’s the plan?’ I ask reluctantly peeling my eyes away from hot Kristian.

‘Firstly dear, would you have any empty plastic bottles one might use?’

‘Mmm I have a 10 litre one, the other 3 have those too.’

‘Perfect daaarling, 1 of those will be just perfect. We have 4 but may as well see if we can jolly well carry another.’

‘That is part of the crazy Lisa!  The rice wine is potent. We do not need 50 litres!’ laughs Kristian

‘How do you expect to carry 50 litres on a moped?’ asks one of the French girls looking me up and down, her tone sounding judgmental.

I take a dislike to her immediately. I can’t bare it when women look each other up and down especially with their nose elevated in the air. It makes my insides tighten ‘We shall figure it out won’t we Alfred?!’ I say defiantly, having no real idea how many containers we’re capable of carrying. I’ll have to bloomin figure it out now though!

‘Indeed we shall Lisa dearest.’ He says as he places an arm around my shoulders. He’s clearly reading the energy between myself and the French lady.  Speaking out loud, I attempt to figure out the logistics

‘If we both take our rucksacks we can each carry 10 litres on our back. 1 could go between your legs on the front and the other 2, maybe I can hold? How far away is this place?’

‘One would say approximately a 30-minute drive through to the other side of the island. I am most certain I can carry 2 in between my long legs.’

‘O.K, well, we can take the empty 50 and see what happens when we get there. Entire families travel on 2 wheels around here, we’ll figure it out’

‘A perfect plan dear Lisa’.

‘Hang on Alfred, you guys have had this before, how many did you carry then?’

‘Oh we only brought 20 then dear, today we are doing it properly’.

Feeling a little ill at ease I simply respond ‘O.K Alfred, lets get this show on the road’.

Clambering aboard Molly Moped (I christened her before getting on. I felt we may have a better chance of safety if she had a name). We have the empty containers shared between our backpacks, (Alfred’s pack is on his front so that I’m able to sit behind him.) There’s 1 in my left hand, (I need the right to hold on) and the final 2 are tied around the handle bars ready to flap ferociously in the wind. We set off on our mission to collect the magic rice wine for our evening party. With the starting of the engine, all of the islander’s whistle and wave as if we’re heading off on a month-long trek.

It’s a wobbly start. I immediately grab hold of the bike with my right hand too, quickly wishing I wasn’t holding a bloody plastic container. The banging of the bottles against the handle bars is like listening to a learner drummer. It’s awful and I want it to stop. My stomach is clenched so tight I reckon I’m gonna come back giving Kristian a run for his money if the journey continues like this. Picking up a little more speed, the bike balances out a bit and Alfred finally starts steering us almost in a straight line.

‘All is well Lisa dear, smooth riding from here’ Alfred shouts back to me as we bounce around the dirt track.

Not wanting to distract him from the road ahead I hide my distress and sound as light and breezy as an ariel washing powder ad. ‘Lovely Alfred. I have every faith in you Molly, let’s just enjoy the ride’.

A complete lie has literally fallen out of my mouth but I find peace with it thinking it’s for the best. I want to have the faith in them and I’m at their mercy, so let’s just concentrate on getting there with all of our limbs intact. We are both quiet for a time while Molly ring ning nings along to the bashing of the tubs. After maybe 10 minutes, Alfred finds his groove and I realise my 6 pack probably won’t be developing any further as I relax into the ride. I start to enjoy being a passenger. Moving as one with the rider, feeling the wind against my skin. I chill out so much that at one point I close my eyes to really embrace the feel of the ride. A bit of bumpy ground, a slight sway of the bike and my eyes are wide open again. I make an executive decision.  4 eyes are better than 2 on this journey. Who knows if at some point I’m going to need to make a hasty leap of escape?

We haven’t spoken for some time when I hear ‘Are you O.K back there Lisa dear?

‘Absolutely Alfred, I’d be even better if you kept your head facing forward when you speak to me’.

Alfred throws his head back laughing ‘You are a card Lisa!’

We shout back and forth for the rest of the journey and I get to know a little about this stranger I’m trusting with my life.

Alfred comes from a very wealthy family ‘Old money’ (his accent didn’t give this away at all!) It brought with it certain expectations of how he should be living his life. He had 1 brother who toed the line and Alfred always felt like he didn’t belong, like he was the odd one out. His parents have  both died in the last 5 years. He and his brother have very little in common so don’t keep in touch. Alfred is using his inheritance (‘They left me a meager amount compared to my brother’) to retire and travel.

‘Freedom Lisa is true richness. Being who we truly are without fear of others opinions is real freedom, may we always live freely daaarling’.

‘Here here Alfred!’ I’m smiling wider than a smiling zebra. I’ve never in my life said here here. Maybe I don’t know who I truly am yet but this trip is giving me moments like these where I feel happier than a bouncing tigger!

I love hearing other people’s stories. Alfred and I in our day to day lives would never have met. We come from 2 completely different worlds. Him, castles and manor houses. Me, a drug using council estate in the midlands. Yet here we are, having met just a few hours ago, sharing a moped, riding through the bumpy off-track roads of a rain forest getting along beautifully. Neither of us judging the other. Simply listening and learning about other ways of living.

‘We have arrived Lisa dearest!’ sings Alfred as Molly pulls up beside a mud hut. The engine stops and I tap the side of her seat ‘Molly you angel! Thank you for delivering us here in one piece’. Breathing a sigh of relief, I part climb part fall off the side of the bike. Standing as if my legs are still either side of the seat, I’m rubbing my butt cheeks as if I’m needing dough to make bread. I’ve a mixed feeling of numbness, pins and needles and pain. This bike was not made for these roads. Alfred’s busying himself freeing the empty containers from the handle bars.

‘Lisa daaarling I suggest you wait on here. The only women in there are the ones making the rice wine. This is a place for men only.’

I stop pounding my bum, ‘What?! You didn’t think to mention this before? I have to stand out here, how long you going to be, what am I supposed to do? Do you think they might make an exception?’

‘I’ll be just a moment, 10 maximum. I shall refill our empties and we will be on our way on our way’

Deflated but accepting I say ‘Fair enough, if that’s the way it needs to be. I’d like to see how it’s made though, so do ask if I can come in.’

‘Of course, back in a jolly jiffy’ and he’s gone, leaving me sulkily standing outside watching as he ducks into the low dark entrance. I can’t hear a sound from inside. I glance around at my surroundings. It’s just like the last island, only here they’ve created a road. Well, not a road, but a track to follow. This mud hut is the only one in view. It’s round, it’s made of mud and it has huge leaves on the top. Banana leaves, I think.

After about 10 long minutes of waiting for my posh friend to reappear, I casually walk past the opening to the hut and peer inside trying to look like I’m not peering inside. I have to walk past a few times and become a bit more obvious cause I can’t see a thing.  All that greets my eyes is darkness. Mmm how much longer shall I wait? I give it another 5 minutes, straining to hear any sign of life from inside. I can’t hear a thing. I’m feeling agitated. ‘What if somethings happened to him? Oh god, I’m going to have to go in. Surely 15 minutes is long enough to fill some containers. What if he’s dead? I can’t just walk in, what if whoever’s in there kills me or takes me hostage?’ I’m pacing now. Up and down outside of the entrance, head down I’m fully involved in my thoughts. The outside world completely disappears as I imagine Alfred being tortured and murdered inside. ‘I’m going to have to go in’ with that thought I take my first step into the dark entrance and jump out of my skin! ‘Thank god for that, it’s you, you’ve been ages, I was getting worried!’ Alfred appears with a litre orange plastic jug swaying in his left hand (What is it with these islands and their plastic jugs?)

‘Lisa darling, I have permission for you to join us, do come in’. He says with an unsteady bow, like a ringmaster making way for his next performer. Alfred’s super posh voice is slurring somewhat.

‘Are you pissed?’ I whisper following his unsteady gait through the short dark tunnel

‘Not at all daaarrrling, now do go in’

Fortunately, it’s only 4 footsteps until Alfred sways his way into a room. I stand and stare. In front of me is a round room no bigger than a 2-metre diameter. The circular room has rectangle wooden benches around the outside no higher than 2 inches off ground. They are packed, shoulder to shoulder with Asian men holding, you guessed it, 1 litre plastic jugs. It’s smoky inside. Many are puffing on the small brown cigarettes: bidis. With the arrival of this long haired blonde blue-eyed westerner, the room goes silent and all eyes are on me. I freeze. Suddenly I don’t mind waiting outside for an hour if that’s what’s needed. I am an intruder here. I’m a different race and gender and my presence seems to be making them, erm, uncomfortable? Actually, it’s me that’s uncomfortable. Some of them seem embarrassed and others a little excited.

‘Lisa come along, come through here’ Alfred is leading me through another short dark corridor. This opens up to a room of the same size as the other to show 2 women sat opposite each other, over a huge round metal barrel. They’re holding what looks like large wooden police batons and are bashing the contents inside. They make very brief eye contact with me and seem displeased with my arrival. Alfred takes a plastic jug from the floor and in his jolly friendly way waves it at the ladies, swings it towards me and back towards the ladies. One of the ladies takes the jug, dips into the white frothy liquid and gives it back to Alfred.

Smiling at the ladies as if my life depends on it, I want them to like me. I’m outnumbered by men by about 20 to 1. These ladies aren’t having any of it and continue to ignore me whilst bashing away at the rice.

‘Come along Lisa, let’s go take a seat, we’ll drink this up and be on our way’.

Peering into the jug, I have a full container of this rice wine.

‘Alfred I’m not sure I want to be in here, can we just go?’

‘That would be rude Lisa, we must make our acquaintances’ he slurs while pushing me down on one of the benches between 2 men. The entire bench has to shuffle along to make room for what must appear to be this giant white woman. These men are tiny and I feel like I’m taking up the space of 2 of them. The men on the end of my bench are now hanging on for dear life. Not even an entire miniscule butt cheek keeping them on the rickety wooden frame.

Alfred disappears. I gaze at the floor. A slow minute later he’s back with a refilled jug. ‘Oh dear god Alfred, you’re riding the bike back are you sure you want more now?’

‘It’s just a little tipple Lisa dear, do not worry so. Drink up now’

With that, he gulps back his wine like a man who’s spent a week in a desert and found water.

Oh my god, here I go then. Sipping the white stuff it has an odd taste. Definitely doesn’t taste like any wine I’ve drank and I’ve drank some cheap wine in the past. By the 3^rd sip Alfred has nearly done his and is encouraging a much faster drinking speed from me.

‘Alfred I can’t drink as fast as you.’

‘We need to be going ole girl, give it here I’ll finish it’. With the thought of Alfred having anymore before driving us back to the beach, I take a deep breath and start gulping the gone off tasting liquid as quickly as if I’m racing a pint with a load of rugby guys. Within a couple of minutes, I start to feel a warmth rising up through my chest. This beautiful room doesn’t feel foreign anymore, I feel completely at home with these strange small men. I start giggling.

‘Hits the spot doesn’t it ole girl?’

Taking on Alfred’s accent I reply ‘It certainly does ole bean’ to which Alfred roars laughing and I’m finding myself and this place funnier than any comedian at a top comedy club.

One of the men offers me an Indian cigarette and I take it as if he’s my best friend. This place, that just 5 minutes ago felt foreign and uncomfortable now feels like the best place in the whole wide world!

Standing in front of me now, still slurring his words but with an air of trying to get it together Alfred sways ‘Smoke that and we must get out of here Lisa, we do not wish to be late back. Our fellow islanders await. Driving in the dark is not a good idea, I barely know my way in daylight’.

I, thanks to the rice wine, find the idea of getting lost in the jungle, drunk on a moped with a well to do oldie hilarious.

‘Lisa, forget smoking that, let us retrieve our wine and leave’

Some of the men follow us out to the moped where our 50 litres of wine awaits.

The entire jungle has a wonderful glow about it. I’m feeling warm and safe, bursting out laughing as Alfred and I attempt to load 1 of the 10 litres into my backpack. It wobbles me more than I already am which I find hysterical.

‘Lisa, steady yourself dear, we must be getting back, evening is upon us’.

His accent has me gone again, right in the back of my head I hear a quiet firm sobering voice

‘sort yourself out Lisa, you must get back to the beach before dark’.

‘Bloody hell what is in that wine?’ O.K Alfred, let’s do this. Focus. You hold the bike; I’ll get on first. Needless to say, it took a good while and the help of some of the men to get us both on that moped and loaded up with our loot.

‘Not sure 50 litres was the wisest idea hey Alfred?’ I shout as we zoom off, slower than how we arrived. 50 litres of wine, 2 westerners and this moped is almost off its wheels being dragged across the dirt.

‘Do you think we’ll make it before dark’

‘If we travel fast’

Bouncing along, holding on for dear life, weaving along a road through the forest that we are quickly losing site of, its obvious darkness is descending faster than we’re moving.

Further down the track we see a figure standing in the middle of the road waving us down.

‘Shit’ I say into Alfred’s ear

‘Bugger’ he says as he begins to slow to a stop