We were walking along the beach on the South Coast of Sri Lanka early in the morning. Our feet sinking deeply into the sand, or getting washed with the waves with every step. The shoreline was completely vacant. No one else but us could be seen on this beach. Or so we thought.
In the distance we saw what looked like a small village on the peak of the beach. A village made from black bin bags and various plastic items. As we walked closer we saw a river that ran into the sea. There were women washing clothes there and laying them on the rocks to dry. There was smoke coming from a nearby fire where someone was cooking. Sounds of children crying and laughing. We had indeed stumbled upon a small community of people living in a makeshift village on the edge of a beach.
An old man sat on one of the large rocks that enclosed the community. We wanted to know who these people were, what they were doing here, if this was a lifestyle choice or a style of life brought on by unfortunate events. But unfortunately, our elderly friend could just about respond to us with a nod. At this moment in time, we didn't feel the ambience was right to start striking up conversations with the villagers. So we left, having full intentions of coming back.
The little plastic village was located on the outskirts of Galle, Sri Lanka's largest city in the south. Locals here are incredibly friendly, as so is everyone in Sri Lanka in general, so we decided to take advantage of this and ask them about these beach gypsies.
Galle, Sri Lanka
The locals had varying opinions about the small gypsy community. Some said that they were dangerous, savage people, others said they were actually quite wealthy and that they had mansion-like houses back in their native cities. But we supposed that the only way to know for sure was to find out for ourselves.
We hung out around the main street next to the mud path that lead to the village. Finding shade in the nearby shack that sold coconuts, we bought one just to sip its water and pass the time. Out of nowhere a local lad came up to us. "Nice coconut" he said with a nod. After a quick "hello", "how are you" type of conversation we also asked him about this village. It turned out, he actually lives in this village and was happy enough to invite us in to show us around.
Inside the plastic village
Entering the village, we could feel that we being watched by those that lived there. But the children were not shy in running up to us with curiosity. After walking around for a few minutes, we spoke to another young man, a 27 year old who was the leader of the group. We managed to communicate just enough to let him know that we come in peace, and more importantly, what we really wanted, was to document this village. "No problem" he said with a sideways Sri Lankan nod. We agreed to meet him again the next day with all our recording equipment.
One group of families that lived in the village.
However, we knew that there would be much organising to do to in order to capture decent footage in the middle of a tropical downpour, in a different country, in a different language, with less than 24 hours preparation time. So immediately, we set off to get ourselves prepared.
Continued in part 2.
Comments
Post a Comment