On Wednesday one of my friends came down from Jaffna for an evening in Colombo.  We had one glass of wine, before going out to the Gallery for dinner, and joined my mum and Shamalee, her carer, who were watching South Pacific.  We almost had to be dragged away – watching those old musicals these days, it’s amazing what they managed to get away with.  The songs definitely have variety: from the haunting ‘Bali Ha'I’ which I still l can’t get out of my head, to the classic ‘Some Enchanted Evening’ and the raucous ‘Bloody Mary is the Girl I Love’. The setting is gorgeous – in reality a fusion of Hawaii, Fiji and Ibiza topped up with glorious Technicolour. And the story has it all – a romance set to the backdrop of World War II between a nurse and a mysterious Frenchman who the allies are trying to recruit for a dangerous military mission.

I would never have described either myself or my mum as lovers of music or as romantics. In fact if anything I would say if asked that I was not a music lover and I would describe both of us as complete cynics where romance is concerned.  However, incongruous as it may seem, something that we both have a penchant for is musicals. I was reminded of this forceably during what was to be the last time I visited my mum in her own home. As a result of a fall from the loft in my mum’s house, I ended up with a smashed ankle and broken leg (in 3 places) and in plaster, which meant I was stuck in Scotland for the longest time since I had lived there in my late teens. Mum coincidently had a broken arm at that time as a result of a fall while she was out walking.  We made a fine pair and could only really handle the kitchen with a combination of our good limbs. I was there for 6 weeks and luckily being freelance I could work from anywhere.  Frequently I would be working away to the sounds of Mama Mia at full blast coming from the living room or the music of Strauss from Andre Rieu concerts. This was back in the days when mum could still make the DVD work and neither of us really appreciated the toll of the alzheimers.

So when she came over here I had both pieces in stock. Now unable to work the TV/DVD/satellite, I put the DVD on for her and she becomes immersed in the music. So immersed that it is only after I begin hearing the same loop continually that I realize the DVD has in fact finished.   She used to be a lover of spy and detective stories, police and detective series on the TV; she could always work out who had done it long before the plot had unravelled. However since alzheimers, she really cannot follow a storyline anymore so most DVDs and tv series just don’t work for her.  We have taken to watching the Lifestyle Channel (TLC) with its cookery programmes, its top 10 hotels/beaches/festivals etc., and travel destinations. We watch the BBC News which I’ve now discovered actually confuses her – she convinced herself that people were going to break into the house and kill us both at one point and when probed this stemmed from watching too much news about Syria. She has though developed a liking for George Alagiah.  Mama Mia and the many Andre Rieu DVDs however are the old faithfuls when nothing else works. She especially loves the concerts from Vienna where she spent a magical summer one year with her friend. But after 6 months of Andre Rieu and Mama Mia, we were both getting a bit tired of them all.

This is how I rediscovered musicals. They have music, dance, colour and the storyline is not really that important. Music seems to be retained in memory for a longer time than stories. Amazon is wonderful. I quickly found a Rogers and Hammerstein box set with such classics as South Pacific, Oklahoma, The King and I and Carousel.  This arrived in Colombo and I dashed to the apartment to put one on the DVD there, only to find that it was ‘the wrong region’ so we had to wait till we came south to my other DVD which has been set to ‘all regions’ before we could actually play them.  These have proved a big hit. She can’t really follow the plot but she loves the music and the dancing. She also recognizes the music and realizes that she has seen them before and sometimes even remembers where and when. For example she remembers going to the stage version of South Pacific in Glasgow with my brother and his wife. So I now have the ‘good’ box set down south and a pirated set bought in Colombo which will play on my DVD there. The pirated set also has the words at the bottom so she can sing along - it was also a lot cheaper than the 'good' set.

I then started remembering my childhood. When I got badly stung by wasps all over my face, she took me to the cinema to see South Pacific;  Sound of Music was one of the first albums we had in the house; wet Glasgow Sunday afternoons were often spent with the feet up on the couch watching old musicals.  As a young woman she enjoyed Scottish country dancing and was always proud of her “Smith” legs. In fact both her and my dad did a lot of Scottish country dancing.   She had a season ticket for Scottish Opera and used to go with her friend to every opera of the season. She went on a bus trip to Vienna to listen to the music. So why do I think of her as not musical. Maybe she should be described as, deep down, a lover of music and possibly also a romantic at heart. 

The dogs - Sandy, Molly and Crazy

When mum first arrived in Unawatuna, she came with an owl.  The owl, she had had both at home and in the hospital with her for about a year. She had bought it out of a home order catalogue from a man at the door. When the batteries worked its eyes lit up bright green which could give you a bit of a shock.  She treated it like a baby, wrapping it up warm and watching kids tv with it. She took it walks with her and chatted to it. She always worried that it never ate. It slept with her.  She was devoted to it. And when it came time to fly to Sri Lanka the owl came too, from Glasgow via Dubai to Colombo.   She slept with it her first night in Colombo.

On arrival in Unawatuna though, it was given pride of place on her bedside cabinet.  It started wrapped up with a hand knitted woolen scarf. They had done knitting at the hospital. Since that first day though the owl has sat there ignored. It has lost its covering.  Recently she mentioned that she would like to wash it in order to give it to my brothers’ children when they arrive at the end of July.  Why the change of attitude towards the owl? My theory is the dogs.

I’ve got three dogs.  Molly is an Emirati desert dog, now 14 years old and not expected to last much longer due to kidney problems according to the tests the vet has done. She doesn’t seem to know this though and still races after cats only to suffer from her arthritis immediately after.  Sandy is an Unawatuna beach dog though she doesn’t really know it either. She left Sri Lanka when she was 6 months old and came to stay with me and Molly in the Emirates. Then we all came back to Sri Lanka about 5 years later. The customs official wanted to charge duty on the dogs until it was pointed out to him that Sandy was in fact Sri Lankan and she was bringing a friend to visit. Crazy, the third accidental dog,  is a cross Alsatian and beach dog.  She had a very unhappy childhood. She was run over by a truck then was abandoned by her Dutch family and left in my garden. I had agreed to take her if they could demonstrate that she would get on with the other two. This they never did and I forgot about her till one weekend I came down south and found her in my garden.  The three have a fairly orderly and relaxed existence. Molly, the smallest and oldest, is the alpha dog. Then there’s Sandy who is a bit of a bully but really a scaredy cat and then Crazy who can look scary since she looks like an alsation but is the softest dog out. She used to be a nervous wreck, hiding under my car for hours on end because of the slightest upset. Now though she is a very chilled dog.

They rule the roost down south. Add mum to the mix and what happens. Positives and negatives.  The negatives are shorter. They do get in the way. Mum is rather wobbly on her feet therefore putting her in the same house as three dogs, two of whom accompany you wherever you are going, is not a great idea. Molly and Sandy do get in her way on route from bed to couch, couch to porch, porch to kitchen. Most places Sandy leads the way and Molly brings up the rear.  She is always refusing to move because she will trip over the dogs.  She never has of course as they quickly move if they see anything like that about to happen.  Sandy will land on her bed in the early morning and give her a fright as although smallish she is a rather hefty dog and does like landing on you and then sliding into you in order to get the closest she possibly can to you then she settles down for ages.  That’s about it for the negatives.

Positives abound. She has not one, not two but three constant companions when we are down south – regardless of what I or anyone else is doing. She has a constant companion even while sleeping: Molly sleeps at the bottom of her bed every night.  (My bed is a bit too high these days for Molly and her arthritis.) The dogs are always happy to see her. Molly’s tail constantly wags. Molly and Sandy join her on the couch for her Andre Rieu concerts and Rogers and Hammerstein musicals. I’m sure Crazy would too but she isn’t allowed on the couch.  They join her outside on the porch in the mornings and early evenings. I can hear her chatting to them as I am working in my study.  She gives them into rows when they start barking and racing to the gate at the sight of feet beneath it. She loves feeding Molly and Sandy gingernuts. All my hours of training to keep them away from the table during meals was quickly swept aside when mum started feeding them gingernuts at the table. Now they watch as you eat.

Who is her favourite? Well, she has a soft spot for them all.  But Sandy is probably the favourite.  Mostly because she is the one that will curl into her on the couch, sleep on her feet on the porch, put her head on her knee while watching tv, stretch out outside her bedroom while she is getting showered in the morning, and is generally to be found wherever mum is.  Molly usually keeps her distance; though, when it is around time for mum to go to bed, Molly will start checking her bedroom to see if she has gone yet. And the minute she does head for bed, Molly is at the bottom of the bed. Crazy, mum calls the big black dog (she is actually mostly brown) with sad eyes, tends to lie stretched out in the middle of the living room which makes moving around the room a bit tricky. The owl really had no competition! 

Unawatuna Beach

 Tsunami warning day

I can’t remember what day it was in April but it was either a weekend or a holiday because we were down south. I remember I was on the computer probably checking emails when Ajith phoned and asked if I had heard that there had been another earthquake in Indonesia. I had not but immediately got the BBC News both on the tv and the net to find out what was happening. 

Having been here throughout the 2004 tsunami the minute there is even a hint of one, things that had been important become completely insignificant and your brain goes into tsunami mode. Fear comes rushing back. Nothing on the BBC news but the website is reporting breaking news on the earthquake and a tsunami warning in place across the region.  The brain is working overtime. I go and find Madu (Chaminda’s wife) who calls Chaminda who already knows. Is there anyone I know on the beach? Don’t think so. Is there water in the house, candles, food, petrol in the car? If not, it’s tough, as Chaminda reports the shops at the bottom of the road have already shut and people are moving to high ground.  Quick email to family outside the country to tell them what’s happening.  

“Surely mum can’t be in two tsunamis!” I think.  She was here for the first one. She had come over for a Xmas holiday, caught dengue in Colombo and been hospitalized and on a drip for 5 days. Then she got out of hospital and we came down south to my new house in my new car (which would be swept away into the back of someone’s house)  to recuperate.  That was the 22^nd December 2004.  We were only there a day and the tsunami struck. No warning. Nobody had even heard of the word ‘tsunami’ but it’s not one that anyone would be likely to ever forget.  I thought, “This can’t happen twice to her! Lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice.” Actually it does. And it did in my house in Colombo so I don’t have much faith in that saying anymore.

I kept the BBC News on the tv. Now news was coming in of the tsunami warning in place, experts were recounting the chances of an actual tsunami (less because it was horizontal not vertical or some such thing) and when we would know. My mum was sitting on the couch throughout this. I wondered about moving her but she didn’t seem to be taking it in. Maybe she had blocked out tsunamis long ago.  Duncan texted to say he had been in Galle and police had come and told everyone to get out of the supermarket and go to higher ground. I got a text from two friends and colleagues, Anna and Jackie, to say they were on the beach and could they come up to my house (it’s on a hill and had been safe the first time) and wait it out.  They arrived in about ten minutes. The beach had cleared. Everyone had gone to higher ground.

 Then the tsunami warning went off followed by loudspeaker announcements from the temple  – it was all a bit late but it was good to know that it worked as to the best of anyone’s knowledge in the village it never had been tested since it had been installed just off the main road.  Then the phone started to jam. Texts could get through but no calls. Emails still coming – one from the British High Commission to say what we all knew.  Email from the BHC warden to say the same thing. My good friend Psyche stationed in the east of the island in Trincomalee called to check I was alright. She had just finished checking on all her staff in Trinco and Jaffna.

By now it was getting late. 6.30 it would be dark.  I decided to cook some dinner while it was still light just in case the electricity went out if the tsunami struck.   Chatting to Anna and Jackie, I found out what had happened on the beach. They had been lying on sunbeds when they felt them kind of tipping up. The tremors from the earthquake had been felt on the coast (not at my house I hasten to add) and also in Colombo where people at work had felt the building move and some high rise buildings were evacuated just in case. 

There was nothing more we could do except keep the BBC on the tv and the website on.  By this time they were reporting that no signs of a tsunami had been witnessed. We decided to have dinner on the porch before it got too dark. While we were eating the tsunami warning was lifted. Relief all round. Though being pessimists and not particularly trusting experts, we all decided we would wait a while before leaving the house just in case. So we had a game of cards – mum was delighted despite claiming she hadn’t played cards in years. Playing rummy with 4 not 2 is such a pleasure and does add a bit of a challenge to the event! Then Duncan popped in for a drink and the cards were stopped. We caught up with Duncan who had also been in the first tsunami while on holiday here from Vietnam.  Now working in Bangkok, he had just popped over here for a short holiday.

Usually I feel it’s a pity my mum is a bit out of it and doesn’t really get half of what is going on around her most of the time. This time her complete obliviousness to the whole tsunami warning (despite being perched in front of the BBC most of the time) was a blessing.  She was in a good mood and quite happy that her day had been punctuated with visits from different people and an extra game of cards!  

Himashi at the pond 

Can very young kids and Alzheimer patients communicate? Does it matter if they speak different languages?  The answers are ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Himashi is a 2 year old little girl who is the daughter of Chaminda, the caretaker of my house down south, and his wife Madu.  Their house and mine share the same land.  You would think that this might be a bit crowded but actually we all get on and can ignore each other or interact – whichever is more appropriate at the time. 

Our relationship has improved dramatically since my mum arrived. Now Himashi joins my mum after breakfast and they have a great time doing jigsaws, building blocks, putting anything together, mum rabbitting away in English and Himashi rabbiting away in Sinhala. Madu, Himashi's mum, also joins the table and with my limited Sinhala and her limited English we fill in any gaps but there aren’t usually many.  When my mum is inside the house because the porch is too hot in the afternoon to sit out on, Himashi can be seen peering in the window or hovering at the door just waiting to be invited in.

They both operate on the same kinaesthetic level. A simple jigsaw is a challenge to both of them and both delight in their completion.  They also love colours – be it in jigsaws, balloons, flowers, colouring books, building blocks. They both love interaction – doesn’t need to be meaningful, playful is fine. They both like music; Himashi sings a mean 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' in English which is quite an accomplishment for a 2 year old in a foreign language.

They share the intimate and interactive world of their garden and its inhabitants. Molly, Sandy and Crazy, the names of my three dogs, are the same in English and Sinhala. Their antics are easily understood in any language. Mum and Himashi are both familiar with the morning ritual of Molly maintenance. Molly, who for a dog is ancient at 14 years old and has a failing kidney, is first given her syrup to settle her stomach, squirted into her mouth using a syringe, then given her pill hidden in a chunk of Keels chicken meat (will she or won't she manage to eat it without eating the pill is the daily question), then her Chaminda-cooked chicken meat mixed with rice to try and get her to put on weight – again will she/won't she eat it all. Meanwhile the other two dogs, Sandy and Crazy, watch as the food is cooked and Molly does or does not eat it – if she doesn't they get the leftovers (they get fed later in the day as both are overweight and are on a light diet apart from Molly’s leftovers).

Often Madu puts fruit and rice out for the birds. Himashi and mum sit and watch the tableau of animals and birds all competing for the food on the bird table. The monkeys who visit usually morning and evening can be pointed at and laughed at by both. Will one be brave enough to climb down the jambu tree, grab the wire holding the bird table usually filled with fruit and rice with one hand and with another swipe the juicy papaya and disappear up the tree, much to the annoyance of the birds and squirrels who could have lasted all day on it. The squirrels or as mum calls them “wriggly things” that run up and down trees, the telephone wires, the wall, the bird bath and bird table provide hours of amusement for both. The birds and their bird calls can be imitated by both.

I can go off shopping safe in the knowledge that mum will enjoy an hour or so of sitting at the table on the porch interacting with Himashi and her mum. The benefits to both sides are immense. Himashi’s English is improving – her vocabulary is growing and her ability to count from one to ten and say some of the English alphabet is tremendous.  What does my mum get out it? An excuse to play with building blocks and jigsaws, an excuse to interact and laugh. A chance to be with someone who does not focus on her inabilities but works albeit unknowingly on her capacity for humour and life.  

View from the bungalow

Heading for the Hills

It’s been more than a week since my last entry but life has a habit of taking over sometimes. I’ll do better next time.  Recently I had a friend visiting and he suggested going to ‘the hills’ –‘ the hills’ being the hill country in Sri Lanka where tea estates, mist, ‘Scottish’ bungalows and sheer drops abound. In colonial days during April and May when the heat in Colombo became unbearable, all self- respecting colonists  headed for the hills to cool off in the much lower temperatures.  This was my first attempt to travel to somewhere other than my house or flat with my mum.  Even before we left, there were ominous signs. The map I picked up hastily before leaving Unawatuna turned out to be for the UK.

The journey itself didn’t get off to a good start. All packed and ready to leave from Colombo, mum decided she didn’t want to go to ‘the hills’. “I can’t run up and down hills,” she said, “Go on your own”.  I knew the look on her face. There would be no persuading her otherwise and any attempt would just make matters worse and she would dig in her heels. I looked at my friend who was patiently waiting; as a social worker whose clientele consisted of older people, he was sympathetic.  Eventually I got her on the move by agreeing that she should go to visit Flora and that I would drop her off on route.   Flora lives in Edinburgh and not on route to Haputale. However secure in the knowledge that she would forget the reason for the trip we set off  – sometimes memory loss can be handy.  She refused to put on her shoes and so she left with her slippers on.  Once on the move she settled down.  We tried to stop in Ratnapura, famous for its gems, on route for lunch.  Knowing that the local rice and curry would not be suitable I pulled up outside a Pizza Hut, surprised that one existed in the town.  She refused to get out, again telling us to go on and leave her in the car. As the car was on a busy street and it was midday and very hot, that did not seem like a solution so we continued on.

The car climbed steadily through Pelmadulla and on to Balangoda.  Belihuloya not far outside Balangoda, has a good government ‘rest house’ (left over from the colonial days) situated at a waterfall – a popular stop for refreshments. Pretty hungry by now, my friend and I agreed this would be a good place to stop.  I made a mental note to pack sandwiches on any long trip the next time. We pulled up outside the rest house and waterfall only to be told by the waiter that the whole place had been booked by a wedding party and they could provide us with nothing.  On we went.  From Belihuloya to Haputale (our final destination) was another hour or so. My back, not used to 6 hour drives, was beginning to ache. The scenery by this time was stunning. We really were up in the hills. Tea grew on the side of the road. The sheer drops down the side of the road made me thankful we were not on that side. Then we were in Haputale.

Working on vague memories of the direction to the tea estate bungalows we were booked into, our luck began to change. We got it right first time or rather my friend did. Still climbing we wound our way round the tiny roads that threaded their way through tea country. And there it was – Kelburn! Turn right off the road and down a very bumpy road and you arrive at the main bungalow.  Mum’s face lit up when her door was opened by young Ravi, our butler for the next 3 days. She could have been a lady from the colonial days (albeit still in her slippers) as Ravi offered her his hand and with a big grin welcomed her to Kelburn. The cook, the manager, the other workers, all were on hand to greet us. Just as well really as the steps down to Wild Flower where we were staying were steep and uneven and mum needed Ravi on one side and one of the other helpers on the other side to manoevre her down to the cottage. On seeing the steps I decided that if she managed down we would just stay down until we had to climb back up to leave. All thoughts of visiting Bandarawella for lunch or going shopping in Haputale flew off over the tea.

Sitting on our verandah with its dramatic views over the tea estate eating our sandwiches and drinking the estate tea, we all started to chill out. It was a very lazy three days. Mum loved the attention of Ravi who helped moved her from place to place and was on hand to serve her breakfast, lunch and dinner. I loved not having to prepare anything or tidy anything up. Reading books and magazines, doing crosswords, playing cards, taking photos and posting them on Facebook, watching the log fire (again fixed by the unshakable Ravi)  in the evening, it was a peaceful, relaxing time. Food was good and plentiful, it was sunny most of the time, the bungalow was spacious and comfortable. And the day we left mum was helped up the steps by the same two who had helped her down.  We left vowing to come back for more- but next time we would stay in one of the other bungalows that didn’t have so many steps.