The Sri Lankan Fisherman
We never did work out if he scammed us.
Walking along the beautiful sandy beach of Tangalle, Sri Lanka, my boyfriend and I were expecting a chilled one. We were looking for a coffee (or was it a beer?) but the day turned out to be much more interesting than anticipated.
Our calm stroll was interrupted shortly after it began as we ended up right in the middle of what can only be described as carnage.
About fifty Sri Lankan men and women were working together to heave in an enormous (seriously) fishing net filled to the brim with fish.
They called us over “come, help” so we curiously obliged. We pulled this bloody fishing net for what felt like hours. I think it was about 20 minutes.
Once it was in, the abundance of fish was mind-blowing. There were enormous rays, swordfish and an unidentified fish that must have weighed about 30 kilos.
As the fishermen went about dividing their haul, we kept on chatting with them — and one man in particular. He told us his name was Peter, and he invited us to come for lunch at his house.
Being wary young travellers, we weren’t sure at first, but he pointed to his house which was just one street from our hostel, so we agreed to meet him at the beach at lunchtime.
If you’re thinking “you idiots”, I know. But Sri Lankan culture is all about hospitality, food and helping each other. We didn't feel threatened at any point during our month in the country, which most travellers will agree is a rarity.
We weren’t sure if he would even appear, but we went back at 1ish and there he was. He took us to his home where his elderly mother lived, and we helped him to prepare some of the smaller fish from the morning’s catch.
He cooked the fish on a BBQ, made us tea, and we had a great lunch.
We also learnt about the ‘real’ Sri Lanka. The 2004 tsunami affected Peter in the most traumatic of ways, and his story echoed the narrative that we had heard many times by then.
Having lost his wife and infant daughter in the disaster, Peter now lived with his mother in a house owned by his friend. What he would do when his friend returned or his mother died, he was not sure.
We shared stories about our homes and lives and felt as though we formed a true bond.
But then, he showed us his broken fishing net.
Without the fishing net, he said, he could not earn any money. He told us that for just 5000 Sri Lankan Rupees (~£20) he could fix the net and get back to work on his fishing boat.
Don’t get me wrong, the warning signals screamed scam. It’s quite a common one in Sri Lanka and other areas, swapping money for a sob story, but the small amount and even smaller chance that he was genuine made us ignore those signals.
Having spent some time at this guy’s house and getting to know him and his story, we were happy to offer him the money he needed. After all, £20 in England seemed almost trivial in comparison to how it could help this man.
So, with the food finished and the afternoon getting on, we left Peter’s house £20 lighter but with full stomachs and a great story.
To this day, I’m not sure if Peter’s story was genuine or if we were swindled out of our money, but as a small price for his Sri Lankan hospitality, I don’t really care.
