Katharagama and Our Little Ma Chang

During my preparation for our trip to Katharagama, I go to the bathroom and see a large brown spider. Why is it that critters like this are always blocking the door or the sink or the shower, the exact thing you're meaning to use? "You don't worry about that," says Uncle as he shoos it away, or maybe he kills it. I'm not sure what people do to bugs here. After we're all finally ready, we leave for Katharagama, a religious pilgrimage site six hours away. Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, and Christians all go to Katharagama and worship in almost the same place. It's like the Walmart plaza, only with God.

The market fair outside of the temple.


The ride to Katharagama is the longest I've been on a bus in Sri Lanka yet. In fact, we take three buses. First we have to take the local bus to Matara (the driver shouts "Mataramataramatara!" as we board). I lose track of where we are by the second bus change. My body is miserable. I am sunburned, sore, and swollen. The ride is hot and stuffy. We subsist on crackers and water all the way around the south coast of the island. I read and read. As I'm reading, I realize that I'm spending a lot of time in silence on this trip. Do I want to talk more? Thinking does get exhausting, too, because I'm coming to realizations that are cleaning out the cobwebs and polishing off some of that grime. As much as I enjoy my Changchun life, it has the tendency to spin like a merry-go-round until I don't know when or where to get off. A nice thought: not only does life go on in a place without you, but you also go on without a place. Lastly, it's a twenty minute jaunt into the countryside where it's pouring rain. Bob Marley's "Jammin'" plays. Jungle rain looks like it's going to wash away all the rich colors and finite brushwork of the landscape, but in the process it's going to push the already picturesque to the level of divine.

 

People bathe in the holy river near the temple.

After we settle down at our guest house, we go to the big famous temple. I'm so impressed at the number of people and the atmosphere. It's lively but closer to the temple it's more reverent. Everyone is wearing white, which I've only ever experienced in my own religion visiting the temple. This and my own 'ponder mode' makes our pilgrimage feel very reverent. The walk from the front gate to the temple is long and we do it all barefoot. Mrs. A, Uncle, and Podi buy flowers and coconut oil as an offering. We use the coconut oil to light the prayer lamps. Then we go to the temple and walk around, putting the flowers on each of the four statues of Buddha. We sit in a corner and pray. Podi is praying for her exams to go well, Mrs. A tells me. I take this opportunity to look around, reflect, and take pictures. On the way out, Uncle tries to explain the concept of gods to me. As far as I can tell, the belief in or offerings to various gods is an ancient practice, older than Buddhism itself, and seems to be a precaution based on tradition rather than a real belief of people. Yet, then again, if you act on it doesn't that mean you believe in it a little? Does that mean that you don't in something else? 

 

We go to the fair area outside of the temple. It's a huge market place full of toys and food. I sample Bindi, a very sweet, red fried dough that I buy often throughout my trip. I find some bumper stickers with something like "Buddha bless you" written in Sinhala and buy a few as souvenirs for friends. From around a corner we hear cymbals and drums coming. A trumpet sounds. A procession passes in front of us with dancers holding arch-shaped wooden beams with red feathers above their heads and others dressed in white. Each procession has a drummer or two and a trumpeter. One procession features a possessed woman who faints, is then grabbed by an older man who helps her up and splashes water on her face. The fourth procession plays a rendition of the hokey pokey. A few seconds in I recognize the tune and dance a riff in the market place, spinning myself around since that's what it's all about. Listening to the trumpeter I'm suddenly reminded of Baloo the Bear in Disney's The Jungle Book after the monkey palace scene. "Do you want to try and egg hopper?" asks Uncle, interrupting my dance. An egg hopper is a thin piece of dough fried in a bowl, making it take on a spherical shape, into the bottom of which an egg is fried. I eat it and wash it down with a wood apple juice. Yum!



 

Mrs. A and Podi buying flowers.

The night wanes on and we return to the guest house for a late dinner. I walk into the bathroom and discover two cockroaches the whole length of my little finger. In China they usually reach the size of the first knuckle. In Arizona they are the length of two knuckles. Here in my bathroom I'm staring at TWO three-knuckle cockroaches! I yelp, race out of the bathroom and call Uncle to the rescue. He comes in only to find that they've disappeared. But he notices the frog on the wall under the shower head that, in my distress about the roaches, I had missed.

 

 

"Harmless creatures," Uncle states. He calls the owner to dispose of the frog. 
 

 

Podi lighting prayer lamps

Uncle leaves the room and I shut the door thinking, "OK, they're all gone and I can finally go to the bathroom." I hear my name called in the hall. I open the door and peak out just in time to see one of the cockroaches running across Uncle's shoulders! He begins to take off his shirt while I run back into my room on a high squeal. "Where did that come from?!" I ask worriedly. It could be that the place is infested. Then again, it's already past ten at night. Really, we've just encroached on the roaches' dinner time.

 

"It came from your bathroom," Uncle responds. I imagine a vengeful cockroach sneakily crawling up the wall just to jump down to Uncle's shoulders when his back is turned. Then again, it might have just crawled up his pant leg, an admittedly scarier thought. I just want to use the restroom, but I suddenly remember that I wanted to ask about a converter plug so I open the door yet again. Coming out from behind the curtain across the hall, and headed straight for me, is the long bugger yet again! I can't stop the scream as I waste no time in running into my room and jumping onto the bed. Uncle runs out of his room yet again with another, "Don't worry about these things."

 

After dinner, just when I think it's all safe, I again enter the washroom just to discover another stinking cockroach lurking in the door frame! This time I feel embarrassed by previous behavior and consider just skipping past it in order to shower and get ready for bed. But I hear Mrs. A and Uncle in the hall and succumb to the coward in me. This time I quietly walk outside and wait for Mrs. A to ask, "What's wrong?"

Katharagama temple

"There's another one," I declare timidly. 

 

She calls Uncle from the bedroom. He enters my room and upon seeing the big bug shouts, "Ah, ma chang!" He turns to me and says, "'ma chang' means friend!" He then chases our little buddy away again.

 

 

This time, I change rooms to one with no bathroom. I use the common bathroom where there's another frog, but shower anyway because I know that's not the worst of my problems. Uncle and the owner left my new room in good spirits thinking that the AC and no bathroom would make for a perfectly comfortable night's sleep. Lurking along the wall behind the bed, however, was yet another cockroach. I'm tired though, and especially tired of being the foreigner scared of big Sri Lankan bugs. So after my shower I settle in and listen for the sound of its scurrying. In accordance with everything Uncle has been teaching me about thoughts being magnets, thinking positive, and so on, I say one last prayer before bed. "Please let the cockroach find something more appetizing than my face," I say and fall asleep.