The fisherman in a black shirt
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| Pic courtesy www.pearlceylon.com |
This is the thirty third in a series I am writing
for the JEANS section of 'The Nation'.
The
series is for children. Adults consider
yourselves warned...you
might re-discover a
child within you! Scroll down for other articles
in
this series.
There are many who earn a living
catching fish on the Bolgoda Lake. People have done it for
centuries. Go there tomorrow and you’ll see fishing boats. You’ll see
nets. You will see fishermen. This is a short story about a single
fisherman. Maybe he is unique or maybe he is typical of his
tribe. Anyway, this happened about ten years ago and was related to me a
few days ago by a friend who lives by the Bolgoda.
My friend has wealth. He lives
comfortably. He is most comfortable when he talks with people, helps
those who need help and when he is able to bring people together to work
on a project that uplifts lots of people, especially poor children. He
is generous. He is kind. He enjoys a good joke and is at times
philosophical. Let him tell the story. The story, by the way, was
related to me in Sinhala.
‘He passes my house almost every
day. I’ve seen him many times. We had never talked. I noticed that he
always wore the same shirt. Black shirt. One day I stopped him and
told him that I had something for him, a parcel of shirts. I asked him
if he would accept. He replied, “I don’t go out anywhere, so what need
do I have for shirts?”
‘We talked. His wife earned money
selling vegetables. He said he had a daughter who wanted to go abroad
and had been trying to do so. He said he told his daughter
“තියෙන දෙයක් කාලා ඉමු” (Let’s eat whatever we have and let’s just
live). So she never left. They live.’
.............................................................
පිවිසුම
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