We Look Out For Each Other

People have been sharing images of religious co-existence in this country to exemplify who we are as people – so I thought of sharing a story of my own.

My father was a very sarcastic atheist – but his looks in the last 15 years of his life got him mistaken for a devout Muslim gentleman – it must have been the white beard.

Sri Lankans of all ethnicities treat their elderly with much respect, but the Muslims much more so.

I don’t know if I would have worried about my father’s safety were he alive today – many are shaving off their beards in the current climate of anti-muslim sentiment – but in his day he was treated with a huge amount of respect by all communities for his physical appearance.

 

Even so, I was particularly impressed with how the Muslim community treated him – cars would slow down as they passed him on the roads to nod in greeting. People in buses would leap up to give their seats. And when he encountered them face to face on the roads, he always received the lovely Muslim greeting of peace “Asalam Aleykum” (peace be upon you), which he always returned with the required return greeting, “Aleykum Salaam” (and peace be upon you too).

All of which I found hilarious because he was an irascible old man. Militant atheist though he was ( he often picked theological arguments with many including his own very religious wife and brought hellfire down on earth) – even he had his limits.

One of the memories that often makes me laugh when remembering him is of him walking into our Colombo apartment with a disappointed face some years ago – he was like a little child in many aspects with reactions to match.

He had seen a street cart vendor selling green mangoes seasoned with chilli and salt he said. He had ordered a packet and had already dipped his hand into his pocket to pay when he suddenly remembered – it was the month of Ramazan.

Muslims everywhere were fasting. He couldn’t be seen tucking into green mangoes at noon – it would hurt too many Muslims who thought him one of their own.

So he cancelled the order – and came home with a disappointed face – because he had already started drooling over the mangoes he said.
My sister and I fell about laughing, his expression of disappointment was so hilarious.

We fully understood why he couldn’t eat it on the road but why not at least buy it and bring it home to eat then, we asked.

“No, they sell it in a clear polythene bag – I would still have hurt the Muslim community if seen having a snack in my hand so long before breakfast time,” was his response.

A random story – and a very little thing for him to have done – but I remembered it today – because we are sharing today who we Sri Lankans, religious as well as non-religious alike, are. We look out for each other. We respect each other. We consider each other’s feelings as much as we can. That’s who we are.

The church bombing terrorists don’t define us. The mosque attacking, shops burning and looting terrorists don’t define us either.

I am not sharing this story today because my father was extraordinary. I am sharing it precisely because he was an ordinary Sri Lankan – and that’s what ordinary Sri Lankans do -look out for each other, be concerned about each other.