Dawn breaks in a little village in the south of Sri Lanka. An old woman wakes up to the sound of the birds chirping on the mango tree, by her little hut. The roof is a structure of timber and woven coconut palm branches like most of the little huts in her village. The walls are made of clay bricks. She and her husband built the hut and moved into it when they got married. He had dreams of building them a proper house one day. However, a few years after their son was born the man died in an accident. That was before their son started school. Left alone to fend for herself and her son, the old woman worked hard to make ends meet.
This morning was no different from any other day; she was up early to prepare the breakfast orders for a few houses in the nearby town. It is a simple meal of string hoppers, hoppers, and coconut sambol, but the labour is intensive and time consuming. When the food is ready her son delivers them to the clients before he goes to school.
Then it was time to start the next phase of her day, with a mug of black tea, a small piece of jaggery, and a slice of bread in hand, she sits on the wooden bench under the mango tree to enjoy her meagre breakfast and feed the birds that flock around her. Not much time to daydream; she changes her cloth wrap and jacket into the only saree she has and leaves for work. The footpath is along the countryside and the walk is tiring, but she trudges on. Her job entails working in the kitchens of a couple of houses on the outskirts of the village. On her way home she picks up firewood which is scattered along the countryside. She reaches home late to the raucous chirping of the birds fighting for their place on the mango tree.
She lights the bottle lamp and cooks a simple meal. Meanwhile, the son has filled the clay pots with water from the well and done some chores, before doing his homework. Life was hard but they had no choice.
Many years later the woman had to sell her land, leaving just her little hut. This was the only way she could afford to educate her son, now a young man with many dreams. Years went by and the young man got married. He now had a house in town and the old woman lived with him.
The old woman was free of hard labour, she did not have to make ends meet, but life was lonely. She slept in a little room next to the kitchen. The beautiful crockery, laid on the big oval table was not for her. She had her meals in the kitchen, while the family had theirs in the big dining room.
One day the old woman complained to her son, “I can’t find my tin plate, I think the boy has hidden it”. The father called his son and questioned him. His reply shocked the father. “I put it away to serve your meals on it when you get old like grandma”.
By Shireen Perera – Palmerston North
