I come from Minnesota. USA, a region of the world where February is so cold, artists create shanties on frozen lakes, and people flock to see their creations. They build ice castles and call it a carnival. People drive trucks onto ponds, dress in five layers, drill holes in the ice, put down a line, and wait.
Where I come from, fishing is a solitary pursuit. In Sri Lanka, individuals also go solo, sitting on stilts at dawn and twilight, but fishing is also a communal effort—many people stretch out into the water holding two long ropes to pull in a net—beach seining.
Sri Lanka’s rainforest, screaming monkeys, wild peacocks, elephants, tigers, and aqua sea were fantastic to me. I gawked at goats on city streets, stole photos of narrow lanes filled with tiny shops, goods piled to the ceiling. I was in awe of a woman my age carrying bales of twine as big as her. I wondered at young boys and men in white robes walking in formation, and hours of Buddhist chanting to greet the morning and evening.
Forgive me for grabbing a photo. I have never seen anything like this before. 
You and me. We are exotic to each other.
How do we write about places, exotic to us, in a respectful and illuminating way?
At the Galle Literary Festival, I learned of a famous travel writer, Nicolas Bouvier, who failed. Bouvier spent seven months in Galle in 1972. He was deeply depressed. His sweetheart left him. He drank too much. Ten years later, he sought to heal from the traumatic memory through writing. In the process, he took his mental poison out on Sri Lanka, disparaging a land and a people. His acclaimed book, Scorpion Fish, fed a colonial and racist mindset, telling us more about his Swiss homeland than Sri Lanka.
I took his work as a cautionary tale for travel writers: do not take your malaise out on a community that is not yours. No matter your skills with the written word, that is bad writing.
Nicolas Bouvier’s work is despair without context. It is what happens when personal trauma mixes with power and privilege—when writers are willfully un-woke. Yet his story also reminds us that when we travel, we bring our baggage with us. I don’t mean pants and a toothbrush, but our social position, biases, and past experiences.
The Need to Remember and the Right to Forget.
As an oral historian, as a survivor, as a travel writer visiting lands where my ignorance is front and center, as a Jew against the genocide unfolding in Palestine, as an internationalist who comes from a land in the full throes of a fascist takeover, I am struggling with dichotomies of trauma and memory.
Remembering and forgetting trauma was the workshop subject by Radhika Hettiarachchi, Aancahl Malhotra, or Eithne Nightingale, at the 2025 Galle Literary Festival. Radhika Hettiarachchi works in Colombo, Sri Lanka, on oral history and body/memory projects. She has interviewed women elders to collect family histories. Eithne Nightingale collected the stories of child migrants to England from 1930 to the present. Aanchal Malhotra is an Indian Historian who gathered oral histories of refugees after the 1947 partition that split her nation into two countries—India and Pakistan. On the Partition, she said, “The loudest voice is silence.”
But the speakers pointed out that sometimes the most empowering thing we can do for people, as ethnographers, oral historians, or friends of trauma survivors, especially trauma that has political purchase, is to permit people to forget. Sometimes telling the story does not help a person live their present. Sometimes they don’t want to be known as the wife of a dead soldier or the rape survivor.
Sri Lanka: recent lessons in Trauma, Resiliency, and Resistance.
Sri Lanka has experienced more than its share of recent collective trauma
- The 2004 Indian Ocean Earthquake and Tsunami
The 2004 Indian Ocean Earthquake and Tsunami, whose shock waves were felt in Alaska, made a mockery of our manufactured borders. But it also brought our global inequalities into stark relief. It was devastating in Sri Lanka. In addition to over 50,000 lives lost, a million people were displaced when their homes were swept away. International aid was unevenly and sometimes corruptly distributed. During our tuk-tuk rides across Galle, we saw the mixed results: major cement complexes near huts that certainly would not withstand another Tsunami.
Twelve miles out of Galle, in the village of Peraliya, is the Community Tsunami Education Center & Museum. We removed our shoes and packed into the small building to hear the docent’s presentation, along with a class of fourteen-year-old children.
The docent spoke of animals—from ants to elephants—who sensed what was coming through sound and vibration and headed inland. People did the opposite, running into the bare sea when the water receded, only to be swept away when the big waves hit. “In the aftermath, the beach was littered with human bodies, but no dogs, birds or monkeys.”
We were so impressed by the fourteen-year-olds. They were attentive but not stiff or fearful, affectionate to each other, with no obvious bullying going on. I felt like I was one of them—interested and bored, making my own connections.
When the school group moved on to view the train car that was passing through Peraliya when the tsunami hit, killing 1800 people on board, the docent apologized to us for the children’s inability to be perfectly silent. Dave told her, “We are teachers. We loved it.”
2. A Quarter Century of Civil War
Before I arrived in Sri Lanka, I read Brotherless Night, a historical novel by Minnesota/Sri Lankan author, V.V. (Suki) Ganeshananthan, about the Civil War that eviscerated Sri Lanka from 1983 to 2009 between Tamils and Singhalese. The Buddhist Singhalese are the dominant majority, and the Tamil are the historically oppressed minority, but during the war, no side was virtuous.
Hearing Ganeshananthan speak at the Galle Literary Festival, I became convinced that the book is so exquisite because it took her 18 years to write. She was unrelenting in her research. Sympathetic characters live opposing lives. The truth is a good read
In February 2025, people told us. “We are united now.” Often they would point to Tamil support for Anura Kumara Dissanayake (AKD), the new President, who is Buddhist and Singhalese.
3. 2019-2024: A Cascade of Crises
Three hundred people died in the so-called Easter Bombing of April 2019. In addition to the trauma of the terrorist attack, there were economic repercussions. The Bombing devastated tourism a year before the rest of the world shut down due to COVID-19. The corrupt and rash practices of a money-laundering President exacerbated the economic freefall. In 2022, the value of the SL rupee plummeted to last place in global currencies.
Anura Kumara Dissanayake (AKD) and the National People’s Power
In 2022, the Sri Lankan people—from all religious and ethnic groups and sectors of society rose up. How did they do that? If you are familiar with the Occupy Movement, the takeover of George Floyd Square during the Minneapolis Uprising of 2020, the 2010 Anti-Austerity protests in Greece, Spain and Egypt, or the Pro-Palestinian campus occupations of 2024, you will recognize the tactics of Aragalaya Occupation. Young people took over a main square in Colombo. They set up a working tent village with toilets, first aid, a communal kitchen, and a library. They inaugurated a “people’s university.” When their tent city was attacked by police, the masses came out to support them. A million people —five percent of the country —marched on Colombo. Within three months, they removed their President.
A temporary leadership was appointed, and the interim President launched a campaign to keep his seat in 2024. But Anura Kumara Dissanayake (AKD), a man with working-class roots, who has been a radical activist for decades, won against the incumbent and others with a plurality of votes. One of the demands of the 2022 protest was to dissolve Parliament and hold new elections for all seats. AKD fulfilled that demand, and in November, his party swept the Parliamentary elections, giving him a mandate for his progressive agenda.
I decided to come to Sri Lanka after hearing about the election of AKD. While on the island, we asked everyone about him. We heard nothing negative, which is amazing. People expressed their pride in him as though he were a relative. They were proud of themselves and their country for coming together and electing him. They noted that he had not lost his roots. Most said “he still needs time,” but three months on, they were hopeful. As one woman said, “It can’t get worse.”
One man said, “We are so happy with him. He is not a thief! All of our other presidents have been thieves.” We told him we in the US know about Presidents who are thieves.
Another man told us, “When AKD’s mother got sick, she went to the public hospital in Colombo. Past presidents sent their family and cronies overseas in helicopters, all paid for by Sri Lankan taxpayers.
While in Sri Lanka, I started to follow Anura Kumara Dissanayake, on Facebook. I watched him meeting with foreign dignitaries, assuring them that now Sri Lanka is a safe and good investment. I followed him as he attended the World Government Summit in the United Arab Emirates and gave a speech about global solidarity, sustainability, and justice. I saw how a representative of Japan visited and gifted Sri Lanka 28 state-of-the-art garbage trucks.
Garbage is an issue in Sri Lanka. People often burn it, and some beaches and roads are littered. Back in the 1970s, everything was wrapped in coconut leaves – no paper, no plastic. But I’m not sure a state-of-the-art garbage truck would fit on this road.
A sustainable garbage system is needed. Maybe the fanciest garbage trucks is not the first step?
Tourism: a Fraught Economic Engine in Sri Lanka
Like past administrations, AKD is banking on tourism. For him, it is the gateway to a more diverse and sustainable economy that can lift the masses out of poverty. When he meets with foreign investors, he sells them on two things: his honesty compared to predecessors and tourism numbers.
AKD’s goal for 2025 is to double the number of tourists. Tourists were a visible presence during February 2025. Visitors were predominantly from India, Russia, the Netherlands, and the UK. Some people came to surf, others to take a safari and see elephants. Europeans and Russians from cold climates come to warm up, expiring in the afternoon heat, cooling in its aqua waters, partying through the lovely nights.
Tourism, like any other mono-product economy, is vulnerable to the vagaries of climate and politics. As recent history has shown, a tsunami, a terrorist attack, or a pandemic can burst the tourist bubble instantly. The shoreline outside of Galle is lined with hotels, some running, some in ruins. One man told us there is no regulation. Buildings can be abandoned. If tourism is to work as a development strategy, regulation is needed to ensure that not all the tourists’ dollars go to multinational hotels, big developers, international grocery stores and restaurants, Uber, Airbnb, international Safari tours, and cruise lines.
A Dutch woman who lives in Galle showed us a grocery store and said, ”This is where you will shop.” We listened until we realized this was exactly what we should not do. It was easier in many ways: The inside was familiar, air-conditioned, and easy. Shopping on the streets took a while to learn. We were there for a month. If you come for a few days, you might not have the time to make mistakes and figure out how to spend at least our food budget to support the local economy. Once we figured it out, we felt grateful and empowered, purchasing the most delicious pineapples, mangoes, freshly caught tuna, and prawns from people with tiny stores, booths, and mats on the ground. We did not to bargain, even when it was obvious the price went up for us. The prices were still low for our US pension economics.
The Urban/ Rural Divide in Sri Lanka.
At the Gall Literary Festival panel on elevating marginalized voices in Sri Lanka through literature, someone asked, “What is mainstream in Sri Lanka?”
The answer: people who are Sinhala-speaking, Buddhist, and from the Colombo metropolitan region.
We spent one night in a rural town that was not a tourist area, though close to the national park where vacationers book safaris to see elephants and tigers. Our place was down a dirt road, with construction work in front and agricultural work in back. We sat at an outdoor table and watched men dry rice. The room did not have WIFI and we were only connected when the owner was near. The space was not up to basic hotel standards, but it was an experience I treasure.
After we made it clear we did not want to do a safari, the owner invited us to accompany him in a borrowed tuk-tuk for his afternoon swim and bath in the nearby river. He watched our bags while we waded, and then we watched his. Across the river, a farmer had a siphon going down to the river to water their produce. Two women washed each other’s hair and some clothes. Our new friend used a towel to change into clean clothes. I put my sweaty dress back on over my swimsuit, and Dave kept his swimsuit on. As we walked back to the tuk-tuk through the jungle, he held up a wire for us to go under. He told us, It is only live at night, to keep the elephants from crossing the river and eating the farmer’s vegetables on the other side. We didn’t see elephants, but we did see a herd of water buffalo and lots of monkeys.
During our time on the farm, we had two meals from small stands—a pocket food filled with eggs and veggies—two for 30 cents, and one meal at a restaurant frequented by people waiting for buses at the station across the street. Their restaurant serves beer. Buddhists and Hindus discourage drinking, and Muslims forbid it, leaving only the 5% of the population who are Christians to imbibe, but serving it to tourists is encouraged. The profit margin is too high.
AKD often speaks of reducing rural poverty through digitization. I wondered if this village would be transformed into a tourist destination if people had more internet access. Certainly, it would enhance children’s learning and help people reach markets outside of their neighborhood. I wondered about other priorities for the lowest-income people of Sri Lanka, who work on farms, or in factories making $100 a month, or operate food stands. Minimum wage raises, small farm subsidies, infrastructure improvements: mass transit, micro-business loans, better rural roads, and potable water are essential community enhancements that global partners should support. Sri Lanka has three colonization histories to overcome: the Portuguese, the Dutch, and the British. There are centuries of reparations to collect from these powers and the world of tea drinkers whose cups have been subsidized for centuries by unpaid and low-paid Sri Lankan laborers.
LGBTQ Rights Movement and Feminism.
Sri Lanka is one of 60 countries in the world with laws against homosexual sex. Sri Lanka’s law dates back to 1825, a gift of the British Empire, which also brought laws against divorce and other misogynistic jurisprudence and practices. Though they may not have originally been anti-gay, the level of religiosity in the country, be it within the Muslim, Christian, or Hindu minorities or the Buddhist majority, has not made it easy to move forward.
I saw a news story about mothers who came out on the eve of Trump’s Inauguration, to protest LGBTQ Rights and ask President Trump to use his influence to push people back into Sri Lankan closets. Seeing this story, I made the mistake of thinking that AKD had fulfilled his party’s promise to overthrow this draconian Victorian law and champion LGBTQ rights. To the contrary, no action has yet been taken by AKD or his party since they won.
Sri Lanka’s EQUAL GROUND founder, Rosanna Flamer Caldera, was named one of the 100 most influential people in the world for 2025 by Time magazine. It was thrilling to sit in her presence at the Galle Literary Festival and hear of her work. She explained that it is only illegal to engage in same-sex activity. It is not illegal to be gay and out, and to organize openly. It is illegal to bully LGBTQ people. Like many places, the cities are safer places to be LGBTQ, than rural areas.
Buddhist Hegemony in Sri Lanka
In Minnesota, Lutherans—a Protestant sect— dominate. It was a new experience for me to be in a place where Buddhism predominates. In Sri Lanka, Buddhist monks are elite. Their elevated economic status goes back to the British colonial period, when the English were expropriating land. One legalistic dirty trick they used was to take all land for which no one had a written deed. If you worked the land communally or for centuries and did not have a written title, you would be summarily removed. The Buddhist monks had written titles to their lands. As the British expanded tea and rubber plantations, the monks held onto their land.
They are still large landowners. Driving through the countryside past tiny huts and farm stands, we came to a massive compound. We asked the driver what it was. Though he had a Buddha protecting him in the car, he was visibly disgusted as he told us the vast lands belonged to monks.
Land is power. Does power interfere with spiritual enlightenment?
Some Buddhist adherents at the Literary Festival differentiated themselves from the Buddhist establishment in Sri Lanka.
We visited two Buddhist temples, dating back well before the British (1802-1948). the Dutch (1658-1796) the Portuguese (1500s-1657), and the birth of Jesus Christ.
The ancient Dowa Temple in the mountains above Ella was a joyful place. Families and large groups of faithful arrived by bus. We all took our shoes and hats off at the entrance and walked down a hundred feet on rock stairs to the temple. To see the Buddha carved into the mountain, we had to walk up a sheer rock. There was a stream nearby. We joined others in wading it. On full and new moons, people fill buckets from the stream to water the tree. Visitors offered incense, marigolds (sold outside the temple), and coins to the many small Buddha statues.
Uprisings, here, there, everywhere.
At the Galle Literary Festival, we met a couple at a table advocating solidarity for Palestinians. They told us two issues complicate their work in Sri Lanka. After October 7, 2023, thousands of Sri Lankans went to Israel to work low-wage jobs, replacing Palestinians. In addition, Israeli soldiers who have been targeted as war criminals when they vacation elsewhere come to Sri Lanka. They hang out at beaches frequented exclusively by IDF on leave. The couple had scheduled a meeting for the next week with members of AKD’s administration.
When they asked where we were from. I did what I often do, to help people place Minnesota, and to further a liberating political exchange: I asked them if they knew of/remembered George Floyd and the Minneapolis Uprising. They said, yes of course, we know who George Floyd was. But they were familiar with the Twin Cities for another reason. Our daughter has just been accepted for the Fall 2025 at Macalester College in St Paul.
Beyond such serendipity, there are other ways that Sri Lanka and Minnesota — at first glance so exotic and strange to each other— are connected. Both places have had recent uprisings with global ramifications. In this period of severe backlash, it is easy to forget the bonds we have created, the coalitions we have built, and the precedents for a liberated world we have set in motion.
Aragalaya diațama pavatī. The struggle continues.
This essay about a one-month visit to Sri Lanka in February 2025 is part of a series. In October 2023, my spouse and I sold our house in Minneapolis, MN. USA. Since then, we have been traveling the world. I write a blog about each place, with a historian’s eye and an internationalist lens, wondering how memory can liberate the present.