Getting to know my Sri Lankan Heritage

Every year, a big Sri Lankan association in Queensland hosts a camp for the Sri Lankans to network with each other. I try and make this camping trip each year, just to make sure that I don’t forget what it’s like to be Sri Lankan and hang out with some people I only really get to see once a year (note: you don’t actually have to be Sri Lankan to come to this). The camp is best described as a massive beer fest except there are sack races and tennis ball cricket that is taken way too seriously with scorecards, arguing teams and trophies for people who catch a tennis ball really well. I never win these things as I am pretty much drunk over the whole 3 nights.

 

I recently returned from this year’s curry camp. It was held at Lake Perseverance in Crows Nest or something like that (I think near Toowoomba). It’s out in the middle of nowhere and totally a Blair Witch scene. Most of the camp is spent making fun of our parents. I have to be grateful here as my parents brought me up very much blind to most Sri Lankan stereotypes.  Apparently there are stereotypical Sri Lankan parents that are overprotective, embarrassing at the best of times and totally racist. My parents are just embarrassing.

 

To get to know my heritage, I participated in many ‘Sri Lankan’ traditions. I also include some of my traditions when going on these camps.  I would like to show you some of the photos so you get a good understanding of Sri Lankan culture:

First of all, it’s all about pouring yourself a drink of scotch that is way too strong and will put you on your arse in about 20 minutes flat. Within these 20 minutes you have to make the most out of your time by participating in as many activities as you can….

Activity one, I took my chances and had a go at Sri Lankan drunken boxing:

Both parties need to have a drink in their hand. Punches are thrown but the winner is the one with the most aggression in their eyes and the most bruises.

I then had a go at some Sri Lankan dancing:

Sri Lankan music is called Baila. It’s basically the same set of songs remixed by millions of artists and most of the songs sound incredibly terrible. The more retarded you look while dancing, the better baila dancer you are. The aim here is to dance with a drink but not spill it.
As you can see. I’m a terrible baila dancer:

This year we brought an unlimited supply of glow sticks. This was great. I had hours of fun with the vibrant colours. I came up with the idea to tie glow sticks to possums but possums are ridiculously fast and can hear me coming from a mile away.

The only real problem with that many glow sticks is that they become like sand at the beach. They start to creep into all your crevises and you don’t know how it got there:

My night was getting good, but then I had my first warning that my time was running out. I took my first fall:

Oh no. I think I’m a bit intoxicated!

But then I saw a couples photo being taken, and by tradition, I had to get into the photo and ruin it for them by looking like a rapist/pedo:

I have to say, years of practice and now I am quite good at being a ninja behind photos. They really don’t see me coming. They ask me what my secret is. I tell them it’s a mix between magic and departicalisation. I have ruined many moments. Most of which are deleted from the digital camera straight away. Above is one that got through.

A few more rounds of drunken boxing and I was feeling quite alive again. The girl in the photo below was wearing pants that can only be described as Bruce Lee’s pants in ‘Enter the Dragon’. These pants were so cool but made me want to throw kicks at her as recently I have had several encounters which made me believe I am about as fast as Bruce Lee.

I was trying extremely hard not to clothes line her off the railing she was sitting on.

A Sri Lankan camp is not a Sri Lankan camp without the touching of the golden chest. This is where all the guys grope the guy with the best chest. This is either judged by a chest feeling like a female’s breasts or a manly chest that is good to squeeze. Either way I don’t condone this as it was my chest that was being groped:

I do look quite proud over my win though.

A little bit more partying took place. I became a general annoyance to everyone:

….and more annoying once we found the megaphone:

Just as I peaked and was singing great renditions of Whitney Houston and Celine Deon songs, my time came crashing down….

I fell and I couldn’t get up. Now I know how that Japanese homeless bum felt when he was abusing me at the Hiroshima train station. He was too drunk to walk over and abuse me so he asked me to walk over to him. Good times.

I hope reading this has educated you on the culture of Sri Lanka. There is not much to being Sri Lankan and if you find that you are an outsider, here are three tips to fitting in:

• Drink excessively and shout everything you’re saying
• Use lots of hand gestures and dance like you have no control over your own legs.
• Complain about everything around you

Hope you can join me for the next Sri Lankan camp.