Wednesday, April 27, 2005
The Law
'You see, there is something you have to understand', my Sri Lankan host leaned towards me as he spoke and took the joint I was passing back to him. 'Where you come from, there are many rules. There are laws which say you can do this, you can do that. They tell you how to do everything, they tell you what you cannot do. You believe these rules.' He exhaled, seeming to luxuriate in the pleasure of the ideas he was imparting as much as the aromatic smoke. 'Over here, we don't have that. We don't need it. Sri Lankan people, they know how to behave.'
This was in response to my question about the planning permission for his guesthouse, situated in the most astonishing vantage point over the most astonishing landscape I have yet seen. No planning permission? I asked; he chuckled at me. And that? The large joint of locally grown, natural grass? Do you get trouble from the police? 'The policeman, sometimes he joins me for a joint here.'
I am not surprised. You can see the coast from his place, fifty miles away, and 1000m down. Over to the right a waterfall graces the rock face between two tea plantation. There are eagles to be spotted taking all this in too, from the air.
There are fewer laws in Sri Lanka, and I never felt so safe. It has occured to me that a true human society would be no society, comprised of people who can be trusted to live in anarchy because they have gotten over the business of hurting each other. Their motive will be love, not money.
In Sri Lanka, it is possible to believe in this vision. I remember feeling rather disconcerted during my first few days in the country by the liberal use of car horns. Now to me, a car horn says only rude things, usually 'I am rather cross with you'. In Sri Lanka, it means simply, I am here. Curiously, this is what the Highway Code will tell you is the sole function of the car horn. For a few days it seemed to me that these people, so genuinely friendly, were enduring the most endemic road rage. Of course, they are only notifying pedestrians of their approach. In most parts of Sri Lanka, if you do not watch theground as you walk along the roadside, you will inevitably trip over before too long. Plus, you are probably too relaxed and happy, and usually deeply engaged in conversation with a companion. When you hear a car horn, you stop, and wait for the car too pass. The driver does not have to slow down. It has probably taken him ten minutes to accelerate his ancient japanese minibus to his current velocity and he will appreciate not having to wear his brakes too much. Incidentally, however elderly the minibus is, there is always one item of equipment in mint, unused showroom condition; the seatbelt.
Wherever I looked there is a culture of consideration in Sri Lanka, obvious to me because where I see it back here it is a usually a conscious effort. Over there it is just obviously the best way to get things done. On one occasion, my host was driving us to the beach. I found that I was quite alarmed at his speed, and his road positioning; occupying the centre of the road. When I voiced my concerns, he pointed out that this is simply the most effective way to drive. Firstly you need some speed on these worn roads, he explained. Secondly, the road has the best surface in the middle, so it is safer. Thirdly, although an oncoming vehicle, utilising the same strategy, appears to be on a collision course, both drivers know to move left at the appropriate moment.
Fourthly, my friend was clearly enjoying himself, and amused by the idea that I might drive on the left at all times because of a law. How absurd.
'You see, there is something you have to understand', my Sri Lankan host leaned towards me as he spoke and took the joint I was passing back to him. 'Where you come from, there are many rules. There are laws which say you can do this, you can do that. They tell you how to do everything, they tell you what you cannot do. You believe these rules.' He exhaled, seeming to luxuriate in the pleasure of the ideas he was imparting as much as the aromatic smoke. 'Over here, we don't have that. We don't need it. Sri Lankan people, they know how to behave.'
This was in response to my question about the planning permission for his guesthouse, situated in the most astonishing vantage point over the most astonishing landscape I have yet seen. No planning permission? I asked; he chuckled at me. And that? The large joint of locally grown, natural grass? Do you get trouble from the police? 'The policeman, sometimes he joins me for a joint here.'
I am not surprised. You can see the coast from his place, fifty miles away, and 1000m down. Over to the right a waterfall graces the rock face between two tea plantation. There are eagles to be spotted taking all this in too, from the air.
There are fewer laws in Sri Lanka, and I never felt so safe. It has occured to me that a true human society would be no society, comprised of people who can be trusted to live in anarchy because they have gotten over the business of hurting each other. Their motive will be love, not money.
In Sri Lanka, it is possible to believe in this vision. I remember feeling rather disconcerted during my first few days in the country by the liberal use of car horns. Now to me, a car horn says only rude things, usually 'I am rather cross with you'. In Sri Lanka, it means simply, I am here. Curiously, this is what the Highway Code will tell you is the sole function of the car horn. For a few days it seemed to me that these people, so genuinely friendly, were enduring the most endemic road rage. Of course, they are only notifying pedestrians of their approach. In most parts of Sri Lanka, if you do not watch theground as you walk along the roadside, you will inevitably trip over before too long. Plus, you are probably too relaxed and happy, and usually deeply engaged in conversation with a companion. When you hear a car horn, you stop, and wait for the car too pass. The driver does not have to slow down. It has probably taken him ten minutes to accelerate his ancient japanese minibus to his current velocity and he will appreciate not having to wear his brakes too much. Incidentally, however elderly the minibus is, there is always one item of equipment in mint, unused showroom condition; the seatbelt.
Wherever I looked there is a culture of consideration in Sri Lanka, obvious to me because where I see it back here it is a usually a conscious effort. Over there it is just obviously the best way to get things done. On one occasion, my host was driving us to the beach. I found that I was quite alarmed at his speed, and his road positioning; occupying the centre of the road. When I voiced my concerns, he pointed out that this is simply the most effective way to drive. Firstly you need some speed on these worn roads, he explained. Secondly, the road has the best surface in the middle, so it is safer. Thirdly, although an oncoming vehicle, utilising the same strategy, appears to be on a collision course, both drivers know to move left at the appropriate moment.
Fourthly, my friend was clearly enjoying himself, and amused by the idea that I might drive on the left at all times because of a law. How absurd.
