Udawalawe - Day 40

Merry Mother's Day to mothers and anyone who ever had a mother!

View from the walk home

Only by claiming this blog entry to be urgent work can I take asylum from Sanka and Seda’s "party." I don't know how long my ceramicist housemates will tolerate my reprieve before another glass of coconut liquor (arak) is forced on me. Their boss left for a sales trip on the same weekend they received their bimonthly wage. This was good news for the local liquor store.

The week began with my long-overdue introduction to Udawalawe National Park. The park's southern border runs parallel to my daily commute but the entrance lies fifteen kilometers to the East and, until Monday, I had no excuse to go. Opportunity finally presented itself when I saw a five-liter bottle outside my office with a cobra in it. Next to the snake-jug was a cage containing an Indian palm civet (a smaller cousin of the bearcat). Dr. Vijitha told me that the captives were to be released in the park that afternoon and yes, I could come along. 

Similar to miniature ships, the real question is - how did they
 get it IN the bottle?

Though our errand was brief, we saw crocodiles, buffalo, and elephants. The highlight, however, was de-snaking the bottle. For ten minutes the only armed member of our party used his shotgun barrel and branches to squeeze the bottom of the bottle. Drawing on the toothpaste theory, he compartmentalized the cobra into less and less space until it was forced to pop out. When this was finally achieved though, Vijitha and I were talking and not paying attention. That's right, we were not paying attention to the release of the deadliest snake in Sri Lanka. The squeezer shouted, gesturing at the empty bottle and Vijitha and I each made an undignified scramble out of its path. Predictably, like any near-death experience in Sri Lanka, our evasion was met with hearty laughter. 

"Rosebud...."  

The next day marked the much-anticipated surgery of Namal - the elephant calf with the severed ligament. Two human orthopedic surgeons (that is to say, not animal doctors. Obviously they were humans) and a renowned elephant veterinarian came down from Colombo for the procedure. For four hours they cut, sawed, and hammered the anesthetized patient. In the end, about six inches were taken off the leg before the stump was cleaned and sewed shut. Most striking about the surgery was the physicality it demanded from the doctors. Working with elephantine limbs, skin, muscle and bone is exhausting work and each surgeon was covered with sweat by the end.

Namal is recovering now and in good spirits. Dilmah informed me that they are prepared to pay for LKR 1 million (USD 8 thousand) worth of medical equipment for ETH and Namal’s prosthetic limb in on the shopping list.

Namal is back on his (remaining) feet! 

More important than elephant legs or cobra attacks, however, is my new bike! Over the weekend, my boss came to stay in Udawlawe, to discuss the souvenir shop that will be opening at ETH in the next 2 months. Most of our time was spent drinking tea, eating fish, making trivial decisions regarding the shop and then basking in our entrepreneurial prowess over tea and fish. In between these essential activities, I requested a bicycle.

Ready to party. 

Although I took a three-wheeler to work for my first two weeks, I lost my enthusiasm when I realized I was spending more money on the commute (about USD 4.00 per day) than I did on three meals combined. Thus, I have been walking to and from work, though often driven a considerable part of the journey by kindly motorists. I don’t mind the walk, but it takes a good 3 hours out of my day and eats up valuable awake-overlap time between US East coasters and myself.

Thanks to Dilmah Tea Company, I now ride in style with my brand new Amazon mountain bike. Pictures to come!

Oh and my boss just permitted me a paid vacation to Thailand in July and yesterday I played with a baby sloth bear. No big deal.

This little guy was found wandering the jungle with no parents .
He will be raised at ETH until he is fit to forage for himself.