Nomads Colony in Paradise
Sample Chapters
Chapters
Chapter 02: Settling In: Sun, Sea, and Sand
Settling in the Paradise Island
As Patricia and Bartolomeo settled in their own way with the support of the
Weliserana team, they are getting accustomed to the nomad lifestyle in the
colony. The couple also slowly acculturalizes to local traditions and the
culinary palate. For Dutch people, however, spicy food is not new. As we know
from Patricia, colonial influence from Southeast Asia, including Sri Lanka,
had already impacted the culinary tradition of the Netherlands. By now, they
have met most of the residents in the colony and visited local markets with
Kanthi to do some errands. There are a few committed and trustworthy Tuk
tuk drivers available for nomad use, which can be called in within minutes.
The couple is slowly discovering the neighbourhood and, by now, they can
confidently go shopping by themselves. The couple also enjoys their romantic
life, as if nothing could stop them from indulging in sexual fantasies to the
fullest. It has been a bit erratic while they were back in the Netherlands
because of work pressure and chaotic lifestyles. Now, they have found a
paradise and wonderful bunch of people around them.
The couple’s newfound freedom and relaxed lifestyle on Paradise Island
reignited their passion and intimacy. They found themselves exploring not
only their surroundings but also each other, rediscovering the spark that had
been diminished by their previous hectic routines. This unseen rejuvenation
of their relationship coupled with the welcoming atmosphere of their new
nomad community instilled a sense of belonging and contentment that the
couple had not experienced in years.
Rachel and Kanthi thought they should host a welcome party for Patricia and
Bartolomeo along with another newcomer from Sweden, a young Apps
developer for an American software company. Erik had worked in the United
States for over a year before choosing to go remote. He has chosen Sri Lanka
because of its visa flexibility and the cost-of-living factors. So are most
nomads, but the positive factors are climate and natural beauty. Weligama
bay where the colony is located is also a beach with outstanding beauty, in
addition to being a surfers’ paradise.
Any party event at the colony would need an advance notification among
residents so that anyone with difficulty can find flexibility in terms of work
pressure. In addition, outsiders would require authorisation from the colony
management. Normally, catering services can be carried out by outside
contractors or residents can opt out to cook, but in any case, an organising
team should be identified. Kanthi and Rachel with their previous experience
in organising parties, have come forward to do it with a local theme and
traditional food.
October in Paradise Island is still quite warm, and with high humidity,
occasional downpours often distract from any event. This is the end of the
monsoon season at this time of the year. However, newcomers have not seen
any significant downpours. Rachel has fixed the party date on the last
Saturday evening of October with a gap of two-week so that there is time to
make necessary arrangement. She was hopeful that the weather on that day
would be fine. Nomads are to share the expenses, and it might not cost them
a fortune in the island paradise, but organisers expect everyone to chip-in.
Although the current headcount at the colony is only 21, the total number of
guests would be at least 30, as some locals would be invited, including a few
partners of nomads from outside.
The nomads eagerly anticipated the forthcoming gathering, excited to mingle
with fellow nomads and newcomers as well as the locals. Rachel and Kanthi
have taken charge of organizing the event, carefully considering every detail
to ensure a memorable evening for all. As the party date approached, the
colony residents seemed busy preparing to offer their contributions, whether
food, drinks, or activities involving cultural events and entertainment,
fostering a sense of community and shared responsibility.
Chapter 05: Monsoon Bliss
Monsoon Revelry: A Weligama Downpour
Sun-drenched Weligama, as usual, shines on its languid charm. Tourists, a
healthy mix of surfers and digital nomads, strolled through the dotted cafés
lining the beach. Some cafés rented the co-working space with digital nomads
from Welisarane. The air buzzed with the drones of laptops interspersed with
the melodic Sinhalese lilts of local vendors. Among the expats tapping their
laptops, a microcosm of the global online world, Rachel along with Patricia
was one of them, a meticulous and keen web developer programmer,
accompanied by Kanthi, an ever-helpful local nomad. Their days were
predictable dramas of coding, content creation, and occasional surfing
punctuated by shared beachside lunch breaks and the camaraderie of co
working.
In the afternoon, the familiar turquoise canvas of the sky crumpled into
leaden grey. As Bartolomeo and Gilbert walked in with Rohan, Rachel and
Patricia noted the pale and fainted face of Bartolomeo and were curious to
know what could have happened while on surfing. As the story was heard,
they saw the wind picking up, rustling the palm trees, and sending shivers
down spines. Heavens then unleashed a monsoon downpour, a sudden,
dramatic shift from the usual cloudless expanse. They first saw fat drop
splattering and then the downpour; it was not a drizzle, but a deluge.
However, the sudden deluge was the cause of the celebration by the locals.
The children shrieked and danced with delight, splashed in the puddles, and
shopkeepers rolled down their shutters with ease. Once unbothered by the
lack of tourist traffic, they pulled out worn playing cards for a rummy game
under the shelter of their awnings.
The downpour forced a retreat. The nomads put aside their laptops and called
for more tea, kevums, and local sweet pastries. Rachel, with her hands tucked
in pockets, found herself staring at the window of the café. The typical picture
perfect scene was obscured by a veil of grey, the rhythmic drumming of the
rain stark contrast to the usual soundtrack of crashing waves. A strange
sense of peace has settled in her. Disconnected from the digital world, she is
forced to confront the present day.
Across the street, in a small cosy room in a hostel, Liam and Ryan, along with
Olivia, seemed squeezed to share this rented coworking space. As the cabin
fever set in, punctuated by the occasional rumble of thunder, Ryan, with a
mischievous look in his eye, pulled out a dusty 4-strings mini guitar called
ukulele from his backpack. The room filled with hesitant strumming, then
laughter as they fumbled through the instrument and sang whatever they
remembered.
In addition, for digital nomads in the colony, the downpour was a disruption.
The laptops were shut, and the co-working spaces were deserted. Confined to
their villas, their sense of cabin fever began to simmer. Elif, who was usually
calm and steady, ran to the room with her fingers twitching for the comfort of
her keyboard. Gabriel, the ever the optimist, saw the rain as an opportunity.
He emerged from his room in a joyous mood and carried dented violin.
‘Monsoon serenade anyone?’
He cried a loud echo through the villa.
Elif, surprised by the shout, did not hesitate to join him. To her own
astonishment, a forgotten melody in Turkish from her childhood surfaced and
she found herself humming. Soon after, the violin’s mesmerising strumming
was accompanied by Elif’s tentative humming, which gradually blossomed
into confident harmony.
As the rain intensified, the co-working space became a stage for a makeshift
talent show. Karen, the reserved Indian digital nomad, surprised everyone
with a good rendition of a Sinhala folk song, much to the amusement of the
local staff who peeked in from time to time. Yulia, it turned out, was a
phenomenal baker. From the shared kitchen, she emerged with a plate of
warm cinnamon rolls with a tantalising aroma of Ceylon cinnamon that
counteracted the monsoons’ chills. The impromptu jam session, fuelled by
shared stories and stolen glances on the weather app, continued well in the
evening. Elif, drawn by the melody, found herself joining them, her voice,
usually reserved for conference calls, blending surprisingly well with the
music. She, as it turned out, had hidden talent for improvisation, weaving
intricate melodies around Gabriel’s strumming.
As the rain finally began to ease, the golden glow peeked through clouds.
Stepping outside the cafés, expat nomads were greeted by a world washed
clean, air vibrant, and alive. The usual routine resumed, and the cafés buzzed
back to life, but a subtle shift had occurred. The nomads bid farewell to Rohan
with a big thanks as they returned to the colony. Rachel found herself drawn
to conversations beyond the digital realm, Ryan discovered a hidden talent for
improvisation, and the nomad colony pulsed with a newly found sense of
bonding, forged in the crucible of a sudden downpour.
The monsoon revelry was still present when they arrived at the colony. As the
music filled the air, the aroma of the exotic spices was felt in the kitchen.
Samantha and Asha, normally content with things such as instant noodles,
chapatti, and curry, had donned an apron and were working their magic with
local ingredients. The downpour, it seemed, had unleashed a hidden reservoir
of creativity among digital nomads. The evening progressed into a delightful
cacophony of music, laughter, and the clatter of the cutlery. Rain, which
initially disrupted their routine, became the catalyst for a unique bonding
experience.
As they sat around a makeshift table, the aroma of fragrant curries mingled
with the damp earthy scent of rain, they realised that their online world, vast
and impersonal, paled in comparison to the genuine connection forged in this
unexpected downpour. The monsoon, a brief disruption, revealed unexpected
human connections that thrived beneath the surface of their remote lives.
Weligama, for a day, had been not just a place to work, but a place to connect,
a melody composed by rain, music, and the shared laughter of strangers.
Chapter 11: Exploring Cultural Events and Festivals
Back at the college the following Monday, things were less hectic. Michael had
arranged Esala Perahera in Kandy
As the summer months approached, the regular adventurers at the colony
seemed interested in exploring the island paradise which some of them, such
as the Dutch couple, Rachel, and Gilbert, have already done. They are
considering new topics to explore, such as folklore and festivals. Kanthi is a
helpful colleague who is also resourceful. These nomads were indeed grateful
for having a local colleague within the colony. Kanthi made some suggestions,
including a visit to the Katharagama festival and the Kandy Esala Perahera
in August. However, she hinted at the latter as her choice, as it offered the
opportunity to watch and experience layers of traditions, rituals, and
pageantry executed with dedication and skills.
Esala Perahera is an ancient tradition dating back to the time of Emperor
Asoka in India, when various festivities and pageant parades were held in
honour of Lord Buddha. Most pageantries and customs were a combination
of Buddhist and Hindu religious traditions. Kandyan Esala Perahera is not
any different from this tradition. However, with the intermingling of Sinhalese
culture and based on the book on ‘Dalada Siritha’ related to the customs and
rituals of the sacred Tooth Relic written during the era of King
Parakramabahu IV of Kurunegala in early 1300s AD, Esala Perahera
highlights its unique features. Essential rites and rituals before, during, and
after the Perahera pageant are still followed as per the statues of Dalada
Siritha with strict veneration.
The current Perahera pageant, which is essentially Kandyan, dates back to
King Kirthi Sri Rajasinghe in the mid-seventeenth century. In his time, the
Kandyan King held the Relic as a private property, but he decreed that the
Relic was sent on a public procession to display to the masses, as they never
had a chance to see or venerate otherwise. When the Kandyan Kingdom fell
in 1815, the British handed over the Relics to the custody of the Buddhist
Clergy and appointed a lay custodian known as ‘Diyawadana Nilame’ to
protect and manage relic-related duties.
Esala Perahera takes place every year during July and August, exact date
depending on the Buddhist lunar calendar. It has two elements or stages
called the Kumbal and Randoli peraheras. Kumbal procession parades the
streets of Kandy as tradition dictates, but tuskers along with the drummers,
parade without any costumes. Randoli procession is also paraded for five days
with full costumes and rituals, along with the replica of the Sacred Tooth Relic
accompanied by custodians or Nilames. In Randoli, palanquins containing
religious articles from the four devalas are also paraded. The final event, the
Grand Procession or Maha Randoli Perahera, takes place with all grandeurs.
The tuskers are adorned by garlands and draped with gold-stitched colourful
costumes, while the drummers are paraded with fully dressed costumes and
the Chief Custodian walks along with the Taskers wearing a newly stitched
costume.
After listening to Kanthi, the exploring Dutch couple, Bartolomeo and Patricia,
seemed very much interested in watching one of the lively and colourful
cultural events in Sri Lanka. The couple who had already visited the Sacred
Temple in Kandy found themselves captivated by the vibrant chaos of the
Maha Randoli Perahera which is the grand finale of the Esala Perahera in
August. With confidence, without a tour guide but with help from Kanthi, they
booked a hotel for two nights, closer to Dalada Maligawa. The grand finale
would take place on August 30th. Although they could watch the procession
from the balcony of the hotel, Patricia wanted to get out and mingle with the
crowd, sometimes during the Perahera pageant. Standing amidst the lively
crowd not very far from the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic, Patricia felt the
sound of excitement ripple through moist and warm air as the procession
began.
The first thing they noticed was rhythmic drumming with a deep, hypnotic
beat filling the night sky. Kandyan temple dancers dressed in traditional
glittering and jewel-studded costumes, twirled and leaped with elegant and
fluid precision movements. Their movement was punctuated by clashing
cymbals and flute tones. Patricia, mesmerised by the elaborate headdresses
and flowing garments, got carried away by the vibrant colours of deep reds,
golden yellows, royal blues that glittered in the torchlight.
As the procession proceeded through the streets, Bartolomeo marvelled with
eyes open when he saw the majestic tuskers. They were adorned in lavish
embroidered fabrics draped over their massive bodies. Some also carried
golden caskets, one with a replica of the Sacred Relics, on their backs. One
tusker had its attire sparked with tiny bulbs, creating an almost ethereal glow
as it lumbered through the streets slowly.
The couple was fascinated by torchbearers who carried firebrands that flared
and flickered, casting long shadows on the enthusiastic crowd. The odour of
burning coconut oil with a thick and heavy scent hung in warm night air as
it mingled with the smell of incense. The chatter of the excited children and
the constant murmur of the crowd were further added to the chaotic nature
of the festival environment.
The procession continued with dancers adorned in vibrant traditional
costumes, and their rhythmic movements synchronised with the pulsating
beats of drums and cymbals. Devotees lining the streets offered flowers and
prayers, and their faces were illuminated by the warm glow of the oil lamps
held in their hands. As the night wore on, the energy of the festival seemed to
intensify, with the air becoming thick with a mixture of devotion, excitement,
and intoxicating aromas of street food being prepared nearby.
Patricia and Bartolomeo kept watching the perahera for over an hour as
hundreds of participants consisting of drummers, dancers, acrobats, and
musicians all moved in unison. Their performances retold ancient stories of
devotion and reverence. The couple was taken up by the sheer devotion and
spirituality of the moment, and the occasion witnessed by the glowing moon
above, which cast a silvery light on the procession. Patricia was in particular
struck by the reverence of the local devotees as they clasped their hand in
prayer when the tusker with the golden casket passed through. As Maha
Randoli Perahera stretched over a few hours, Patricia and Bartolomeo
managed to find their way back to their hotel from where they could continue
to watch from the balcony for sometimes. For them, watching Maha Randoli
Perahera was unforgettable. It was a stunning blend of tradition and
spirituality, colour and music, and dance and devotion, offering nomads a
glimpse into a cultural celebration, unlike anything they had ever
experienced. a couple of study tours, including one of the Sistine Chapel at St.
Paul’s for the exchange students, but I was not keen to join. Susan reminded
me about placing an announcement in the American Daily News, the English
daily of Rome. I found out where the office of the publisher was located and
managed to draft a twenty-word announcement, as the maximum word count
allowed was less than twenty-five. By midweek I had placed the
announcement, which read, ‘An American College student is seeking
accommodation in exchange for some flexible hours of household chores.’ The
college telephone number was provided as a contact number, along with
Susan’s name. I wanted the announcement to continue for four weeks, as
permitted by the publisher, and it was free of charge. I was not very optimistic
but said to myself that only time would tell whether I would get any calls.
In the meantime, a week had passed, and Michael was preparing for the next
tour with the exchange students. It was to Pompeii, and it would be a one-day
trip without an overnight stay. This meant leaving Rome by a minibus early
in the morning, which would take nearly two hours to reach and return by
late evening. I had already promised I would join them, and it had been
planned for the next Saturday. Michael told me that this tour was to be
repeated with overnight stays the following semester with regular students as
part of the module called ‘Western Civilization through Arts and Monuments’
for the junior-year students.
On Saturday morning, we left Rome early, at seven-thirty, and arrived in
Naples before nine-thirty. The exchange students seemed very excited and
enthusiastic, and our tour of Pompeii started at ten after a quick break to
relieve the bladder. It was a wonderful morning in October with sunlight
shimmering over the ruins. We were warned to prepare for long hours of
walking with suitable boots or trainer shoes, as well as to carry a bottle of
water and some form of packet lunch in our backpacks. Michael had to
purchase the ticket for fourteen of us, and once ready, we were in full gear to
start the tour.
Our first stop was the Pompeii Amphitheatre, which was used for gladiator
fights and other festivities and performances. Michael took 10 minutes to
explain the history and significance of the Amphitheatre and commented that
it was not any different from other Roman amphitheatres. On this occasion,
he also briefed the students about the chronology of events in Pompeii over
the last 2000 years, from the time of volcanic eruption to excavation. Pompeii
perished from the ashes of the erupting Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD., on the
24th of August. This was one of the most catastrophic events in history and
had a devastating impact on Pompeii, which was buried under volcanic ash
and pumice. The Vesuvius eruption was a two-day event with a massive cloud
of ash, pumice, and toxic gas thrown into the sky on the first day, and fast
moving pyroclastic flows consisting of highly destructive clouds of ash, rock
fragments, and gas on the second day. According to scientists, the speed of
the flows could have reached up to seventy miles per hour with a temperature
of over five-hundred degrees Celsius that engulfed the entire city, burying it
under several metres of volcanic material.
After the mini-lecture at the amphitheatre site, we moved to see the Forum of
Pompeii, which was the city’s main square. It consisted of the remains of the
basilica, the courthouse where legal proceedings were held, and the Temple
of Jupiter. Michael noted that the temple was dedicated to the Roman god of
the sky and thunder. After exploring the forum with site-specific descriptions
by Michael, the group split up to take a quick break. There were cafes and
food stalls around for anyone who wanted coffee or snacks. Some opted to
enjoy the food they had carried in their backpacks. We had decided on a place
to meet after the break which was relatively easy to find. In any case, I had to
keep an eye on the movements of the guest students. We all had red flags
attached to our backpacks to easily identify each other.
After half an hour, we met in front of the famous Casa del Fauno, the House
of Faun, which was one of the largest and most impressive houses in Pompeii.
It was named after a bronze statue of a dancing faun found in the house,
which could be seen in the National Archaeological Museum in Naples.
According to historians, the House of Faun was built in the second century
BC during the Samnite period and is considered the most luxurious
aristocratic palace in the Roman Republic to be preserved from the Hellenistic
period. Although the eruption of Vesuvius was a devastating event, its ash,
which fell in layers, helped preserve valuable artworks, including mosaics.
Michael pointed out that after a period of excavations, most of the valuable
artefacts were moved to the museum in Naples. The group also visited the
Pompeii baths, which were used for public bathing. Baths were an important
part of Roman society and were used not only for relaxation and hygiene but
also for socializing.
As the last item in the itinerary of the Pompeii tour, we visited the Pompeii
gardens, which were once used for private residence. This was full of the
remains of several villas and gardens, without exception of the Villa of the
Mysteries, which contained well-preserved frescoes depicting ancient Roman
rituals. Wrapping up the tour by sunset offered us enough time to look at
Naples and enjoy a delicious pizza in Naples, which is considered the
birthplace of pizza. At the coach, while chatting with the driver, Michael
quickly pointed out the cultural traits of Naples and its inhabitants and the
beauty of the city itself. Naples Bay provided a beautiful landscape,
particularly at night, and picking a good and authentic pizzeria overlooking
the bay remained Michael’s aim.
The driver suggested that we check one of the traditional longstanding
pizzerias called Pizzeria Lombardi a Santa Chiara. Within half an hour, we
were on a hilltop overlooking the Bay of Naples. The coach meandered through
the narrow roads and arrived at Lombardi, and it was an authentic place to
enjoy pizza in Naples. All pizzas were made al-forno in a traditional stone oven,
using fresh ingredients. The air was full of flavour emitted from fresh
tomatoes, mozzarella cheese, basil, oregano, and virgin olive oil, which made
all of us crave a slice of pizza.
The menu at Lombardi was simple, as all of the pizzas had a standard crust
base with tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese, which is a traditional
margherita pizza. Customers could order their preferred toppings, including
seafood, such as clams, prawns, and anchovies; meats, such as salami,
prosciutto, and pepperoni; and fresh vegetables, such as onions and
mushrooms. A fresh egg cracked in the centre was another addition if anyone
preferred. Fortunately, everything at Lombardi was fresh except for the cured
meats, olives, and marinated vegetables. I ordered a Pizza alla Pescatore, or
seafood pizza, consisting of fresh anchovies, prawns, and calamari with
marinara sauce. I also wanted to add fresh mushrooms and sliced onion.
Everyone tried their favourites, and some shared between two or three, which
gave them the opportunity to taste more than one pizza.
We were extremely happy and a big thumbs-up for the driver’s choice of
restaurant. Because we had to pay for the meal, we all chipped in for the
driver. At eight in the evening, we were set to leave Naples so that we could
arrive in Rome at ten at night. On the way back, some of us dozed after a busy
and tiring day. As we arrived in Rome, I had to pick up a cab to go home, as I
also felt a bit tired and sleepy.
On Sunday, I wanted to visit Susan, but unfortunately, I had to attend to my
household chores. The next morning, business as usual at the college
continued. Midweek, Barbara asked me whether I could volunteer to help her
do some wall painting in one of the spare rooms, which I could not refuse. The
spare room was to be used as a classroom, and the college ordered desks and
chairs. In fact, a couple of Iranian students had been offered financial
hardship funds in exchange for some hours of work. I acted as a supervisor
to help them paint and perform decoration-related chores. We started this
paint job on Friday afternoon and finished it on Saturday, and the classroom
was ready for use on the forthcoming Monday.
Michael was preparing for a weekend trip to Florence with the exchange
students. In the first week of November, they had just a couple of weeks left
before returning to the USA. Again, this would be just a sightseeing tour
rather than a study tour. Michael pointed out that an extensive study tour
would take place the next semester in line with the scheduled course module.
He said my attendance on the trip would be helpful but not required. They
planned to go to Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance, on Friday, and
return on Sunday morning. They would have the entire Saturday to visit the
key attractions and to hear briefly about the birth of the Renaissance in the
late 1400s. Michael pointed out that it would be a Florence-only trip and not
Tuscany at large, and that he could easily manage by himself.
In mid-November, on a Wednesday, I received a call from an American lady
regarding my newspaper announcement. First I thought that it was another
call like the one I had received the previous week when a woman called me to
say she was prepared to offer me some hourly paid household chores but no
accommodation. But to my surprise, this call was different. She lived alone
and had a spare room, but I needed to take care of her dog. I thought about
it for a while and said I would be prepared to take up the offer after meeting
her at her house. So I made an appointment to see her on Saturday, after four
o’clock. When I said this to Susan, she was pleased and wished me good luck.
She went on to make fun of me by saying that being single, the woman could
be looking for a companion. I took it very lightly and said, ‘You will find out
next Monday.’ After a while, we saw a few new Iranian students who walked
towards us to say they were planning to invite a few people for an Iranian
dinner. There were about ten to twelve Iranian students at the college in total,
including a colonel who had fled Iran with his daughter just before the
revolution. Susan had met all of them before but didn’t know them except a
few. Susan thought that it was not a bad idea to join them, and she and I
agreed to join them on Friday.
In the evening, still in college, we decided to do a marketing coursework
assignment which we had to hand in the day before the class started. The
college library was kept open until 7.00 p.m., and we went downstairs, where
the library was located. Susan’s landlady, who was the librarian, agreed to
stay with us until eight. We managed to do some good work and collected
useful materials to help us start writing. Since the assignment was about a
promotion campaign, Susan seemed excited, but I had to show her how to
plan and come up with an advertisement campaign for a newly introduced car
by the German giant Daimler-Benz. My project was different—something
about a new breakfast cereal to be introduced in Italy by an American
company. We left home soon after 8.00 p.m., but I was determined to finish
writing the project before going to bed.
In the marketing class the next day, El-Sabry was not happy, as not all
students submitted their assignments. As a mid-semester assessment, we
also had to make a five-to-ten-minute presentation in the class. Out of the
fourteen students, only eight managed to present their projects, and Susan
and I were among them. In fact, Susan and I attained the best marks, while
Flavio received a borderline pass. Daniel did not submit his and seemed cross
with me, as I hadn’t helped him write. But I promised to help him to do so the
next week for his late submission. After class, Daniel and Flavio wanted to go
for a movie and then dinner. But I declined, and they all went to see the movie.
I reminded Susan about the Iranian dinner on Friday night, and we agreed to
see each other at the college in the late evening.
I got to the college on Friday rather late after midafternoon, when Michael and
the Texan students had already left for Florence. I joined Susan at the
reception desk and spent a couple of hours chatting and speaking to the
students or answering phone calls. Susan, being an Iranian herself, likely
knew what sort of food to expect at Hossain’s house that night. She brought
some Iranian sweets along. As we had to take a bus ride lasting at least thirty
minutes, we decided to leave the college by 7.00 p.m. Of course, we had to
walk for a few minutes to catch a bus.
At Hossain’s, we were the first guests to arrive, but in less than thirty minutes,
the house was full of people, roughly fifteen in total. There were no special
foods except a few. But we found a variety of dips and finger-foods which we
could put our hands in and try out. There were tantalizing flavours to tease
tongues. Saffron-flavoured rice pilaf cooked with juniper berries and sliced
almonds, and topped with a layer of burned sliced potatoes, attracted my
attention. It was laid out as if it were a cake; the guests would use a spatula
to break off and serve a portion. I sprinkled ruby-red pomegranate seeds over
rice. There were several mezes on the table, including yogurt, cucumber-onion
dips, and roast aubergine dips. Lightly spiced oven-roasted lamb and chicken
wings were also placed on the buffet table, along with freshly prepared and
cut crudités. There were no complaints whatsoever except that it was stuffy
and full of smoke. I was an occasional smoker in the seventies, but this was
too much, and from time to time, I had to step out to get some fresh air.
Another problem was that everyone chatted in Farsi, the Iranian language.
Susan probably felt my discomfort and suggested that we take off just after
ten. Again without a car, we had to return to the town by bus. Luckily, we
didn’t have to wait long for a bus, and we were back home by 11.00 p.m.
I was unusually early to get up for a Saturday; perhaps I was thinking about
my meeting with the American lady in the late afternoon. I had already
searched and found the road on the map, and I knew how to get there by
walking, as it was not far from the pensione. I didn’t tell Laura that I was
looking for a place to move out, but she knew it was not sustainable for me to
stay in the pensione for a long time. She also knew that I spent most of my
time at the college, and she hardly saw me during the day. In any case, she
was nice to me.
In the late afternoon, around half past three, I left the room so that I had
enough time to walk what I thought would be a couple of kilometres. Later, I
realized that it was a matter of fifteen minutes of walking to get there, but I
did not want to knock on the door before four o’clock. So I spent some time
checking out the neighbourhood and arrived at the doorstep on the second
floor of the apartment just after four. When I rang the bell, a lady in her fifties
opened the door to invite me in while shouting at the dog behind her to lie
down. I introduced myself as Zain Baba, and she said, ‘I am Lucille.’ Finally,
I saw the lady, whom I was eager to meet. At first sight, I thought there was
some chemistry between us, and the welcome I received proved this to be so.
Lucille pointed out that she had been renting a three-bed apartment for the
last four years. She was a single woman living with an Alsatian dog called
Peakeo and Olga, a housekeeper who was on and off. Olga frequently stayed
out with her cousin.
Lucille wondered where I was from, and when I told her I was from Sri Lanka,
she responded by saying ‘Oh, Ceylon, I used to know your former prime
minister, John.’ She was referring to Sir John Kotelawala, who was the third
prime minister of Ceylon after gaining independence from Britain in 1948.
Lucille had become acquainted him while in London and, in fact, had stayed
in his house in London as a guest. This was great news and was the end of
the story, and as a Ceylonese person, I didn’t need any more references. We
had a long chat over a cup of tea, though she still preferred coffee. Lucille was
a Jewish American lady and had been living here in Rome for over fifteen
years. As I understood it, she worked as an estate agent of some sort for
diplomats and executives of multinational and multilateral organizations.
Although Lucille worked from home over the phone, she had to go around the
city to show houses or inspect them before listing them in her book. Thus,
she was looking for someone to take her dog out for a walk at least twice a
day, which I was prepared to do, although it seemed a bit of a challenge for
me because of Peakeo’s sheer size. But, as he seemed to be a well-behaved
dog, I didn’t expect any problems in controlling him.
Lucille showed me around the house and briefed me about the house rules,
but she didn’t treat me as a housekeeper. Since Olga was often in and out of
the house, I was expected to help her with household chores, which I didn’t
mind. I did tell Lucille, however, that I wished to move in December first,
which was ten days away. This would give me ample time to speak to Laura
and leave the pensione amicably. In the meantime, I also stressed that as a
student and college staff member, I needed some flexibility. Apart from some
special assignments, such as helping Michael with excursions and study
tours, my working hours at the college were limited to three half-days. This
meant that most days in a week, I would be free to walk the dogs in the evening
or night, and almost every day in the morning before leaving home. Lucille
noted that in my absence, either she or Olga could walk Peakeo.
In the end, I thought that was the best arrangement I could expect in the
pursuit of my dolce vita. Housing was free, and I had a job that paid my
expenses as well as a good lifestyle, which I wouldn’t have ever expected when
I first stepped on Italian soil the previous summer. I was grateful to Susan for
suggesting that I place an advertisement in the newspaper, so I thought I
would go and visit her on Sunday with chocolates to express my gratitude. I
made a call to her host’s landline phone to see if she would be home on
Sunday, as she might have planned to be out with Sayed. However, luckily,
Sayed had not come to visit her this weekend, and she seemed pleased to see
me the next day.
Chapter 12: Snorkelling in the Coral Reef and Bluewater Diving
Snorkelling in Hikkaduwa
As the hot and humid summer months along with the Monsson rain end,
nomads seem extremely delighted. The climate was rather pleasant from
October on the southwestern part of the island. Rachel and partner are fond
of fragile marine life and interested in the conservation effort of the coral reefs.
While Kanthi and a few nomads have had a trip and returned from
Katharagama with Mano, Patricia and Bartolomeo are also keen on joining
Rachel. Bartolomeo is also serious about surfing under moonlight and has
already made arrangement to go to Unawatuna with Rohan and Liam.
However, work responsibility is turning nomads’ attention toward routine
lifestyles.
Welisarane is back to business, and workstation chatter and keyboard clicks
are heard loudly almost every day. However, it did not stop the usual
adventurers from seeking reprieve from routine and boring workload loads.
Despite their return-to-work responsibilities, the group remained determined
to find moments of escape and adventure. Rachel’s plans already have piqued
the interest of Patricia and Bartolomeo, potentially leading to new experiences
and bonding. Bartolomeo’s enthusiasm for moonlight surfing later in
Unawatuna with Rohan and Liam promises an exciting night to escape from
the office atmosphere.
On a calm Friday morning, Rachel and Gilbert together with Bartolomeo and
Patricia waited to be picked up by Ranil, a friend of Kanthi who knew all about
snorkelling and diving. They planned to go to Hikkaduwa along the coast, a
few kilometres from Galle. Patricia and Bartolomeo have already visited Galle,
the heritage Fort City during the last Christmas holidays. Hikkaduwa, a resort
town within an hour of driving from Weligama, is popular among coral divers
and snorkellers.
Ranil, the seasoned diving and snorkelling instructor, arrived in his black
passenger van at 8.30 a.m. to pick up nomads from their charming seaside
colony in Weligama. The golden rays of sunlight were filtered through lush
greenery, casting vibrant shadows on the ground as the nomads gathered
their gear and hopped excitedly into the minivan. Their destination was
Hikkaduwa, a picturesque resort town popular among tourists for its
colourful coral reefs and colony of marine life. For Rachel and Gilbert, the
anticipation of exploring a tropical seabed for the first time was a dream.
Patricia and Bartolomeo filled air with a sense of adventure.
As the minivan cruised along the winding coastal road, the azure ocean
appeared in glimpses between the coconut palms and traditional boats of
fishermen docked on the seashores. Ranil, with over 20 years of diving and
snorkelling experience, shared stories of the region’s fragile marine
ecosystem, and his passion for the conservation of corals. The coral sanctuary
of Hikkaduwa is renowned for its underwater beauty. The group eagerly
listened to Ranil’s tales, their excitement growing with each passing moment
as they neared their destination. As they approached Hikkaduwa, their
anticipation reached its peak, with everyone imagining the vibrant
underwater world that awaited them. Rachel and Gilbert exchanged glances,
their eyes sparkling with the promise of fulfilling a long-held dream, while
Patricia and Bartolomeo’s adventurous spirits were palpable in their animated
chatter about the marine life they hoped to encounter.
Ranil has a mission to make tourists like Rachel and others aware of the
fragility and importance of conservation, and thus, the need for responsible
diving practices to protect this delicate ecosystem. Rachel did Ranil know that
she and her partner were keen conservationists. As the van approached their
destination, Ranil stressed, ‘Snorkelling and shallow diving aren’t just about
seeing the beauty under the water but also about understanding how to move
carefully so we don’t harm the coral or disturb the marine life’.
As they arrived, Hikkaduwa greeted the nomads with its warm sea breeze and
gentle murmur of shuttling waves. The dive centre, owned and operated by
Ranil, was a relatively small but well-equipped facility nestled among palm
trees, facing the clear turquoise waters of the bay. The group could hear the
sea mixed with the excitement of another small group preparing for their own
diving experiences, guided by a colleague of Ranil. After a brief introduction
to the centre facilities, Ranil led the nomads to a shaded area where they
could spot a large table with snorkels, fins, diving masks, wetsuits, and life
jackets. The brightly coloured equipment stood out against the sandy shores,
and Ranil began the instruction by walking the group through the basics of
snorkelling and coral diving, emphasising the essential safety measures.
Chapter 16: Trouble Brooding at Welisarane
Clandestine Affair
The nomads at Welisarane were heading for early spring, and the climatic
conditions from March to May in the south of the island were always what the
locals prayed for. Although nomads seem busy with hectic schedules, they
are good at managing their time aptly. While some spend long nights covering
their lost hours, a few would even take frequent breaks during their weekly
schedules. Bartolomeo, Gabriel and Elif are night owls, either supporting their
teammates around the globe or deliberately hooked into working in the night.
Liam and Gilbert would always find time to take breaks from their daily
routines. Patricia and Rachel are no exception to this pattern either and they
are accustomed to chat over a cup of tea or even working together in the
morning hours while Bartolomeo enjoys his fantasy dreams in his bed.
The digital nomads at Welisarane have developed unique strategies to
carefully balance their work and personal lives, while adapting to different
time zones and personal preferences. Some, such as Patricia and Rachel, have
found time for companionship in their shared morning routines, creating a
sense of community spirit despite their nomadic lifestyles. Flexibility in work
schedules is the key to nomadic lifestyles. This not only accommodates
individual needs but also fosters a diverse and dynamic team environment
that promotes collaboration across various time zones and working styles.
Occasionally, Bartolomeo and Patricia quarrels, and even loud noises splutter
around the villa. Rachel and Kanthi are quite used to these frictions and one
could easily ignore such petty skirmishes as normal between couples
committed to intimate relationships. However, building a smooth relationship
sometimes becomes difficult when each person cannot find the time to be
together. However, the recent outburst of Bartolomeo also sheds light on the
apparent clandestine encounters between Patricia and Liam. A few mornings,
when Bartolomeo sneaked out of his bed, he could not find neither Patricia
nor Liam. One morning, he caught them surfing. However, he also found that
Rachel and Gilbert surfed with them.
This clandestine relationship between Patricia and Liam, along with their
surfing activities with Rachel and Gilbert, may suggest something complex in
nature; a web of relationships and hidden dynamics within the group.
Bartolomeo’s discovery of these secret encounters may have sparked feelings
of jealousy, betrayal, or exclusion, causing his recent outburst. The shared
surfing experiences could also indicate a growing friendship between the
group of four, perhaps leaving Bartolomeo feeling isolated and questioning his
place within the group. However, Bartolomeo for sure have trust in Rachel
and he is absolutely confident that she wouldn’t betray him by being silent or
aiding Patricia’s relationship with Liam.
Rachel and Gilbert being good friends of the couple thought if it was anybody’s
business to intervene in Bartolomeo’s and Patricia’s affairs. They would not
even know if it is Patricia’s sheer love with surfing or something else is pulling
her towards Liam. One for sure, Patricia, is obsessed with the idea of surfing
at Arugam Bay. Obviously, Rachel thought that it would be a good move to
make a trip to the eastern shores and let time solve the problem. On a Friday,
with Rohan’s help, Rachel and Gilbert arranged for a visit to Arugam Bay.
Mano would ferry them early in the afternoon so that they would reach there
before 9 p.m. Rohan’s surfer-guide friend Raheem was ready to find overnight
accommodation for several nights.
Surfing at Arugam Bay
As the nomads reached the shores the next morning, it was as sunny as ever
and the blue expanse spread before them, casting a spell of calm yet inviting
waves. Known as one of the best surfing sites in the Indian Ocean, or perhaps
in the world, the bay was lively with surfers of all levels, from novices like
Patricia trying their luck on the calmer waters to seasoned surfers bravely
showing off swift carves on the breaks. Liam and Gilbert were impatient until
they get to the surfboard while Patricia and Rachel together with Bartolomeo
were feeling the electric pulse of the ocean.
The nomads watched awe as skilled surfers gracefully rode the waves; their
bodies were in perfect harmony with the ocean’s rhythm. Patricia and Rachel,
feeling inspired by the scene before them, decided to sign up and join the
beginner’s surfing club as members, eager to experience the thrill of catching
their first wave. Meanwhile, Bartolomeo explored the shoreline, searched for
unique shells, and observed the diverse marine life of the Arugam Bay shores.
Liam and Gilbert spent hundreds of hours surfing more predictable waves of
Weligama, now bravely approaching Arugam Bay with the confidence of
experienced surfers. The pair exchanged nods of excitement as they pepped
their boards. Patricia and Rachel with Bartolomeo in their side, however, felt
a mix of exhilaration and nerves. They held their boards eagerly, but were
uncertain. This would be the girls’ first real adventure beyond their brief
training in the familiar waters of Weligama. From early on, Patricia was
determined to experience Arugam Bay’s famous waves since she first heard
about the Women’s Surfing Club of Arugam Bay. Her enthusiasm fuelled the
trip, and she convinced the rest to make the journey eastward.
As Bartolomeo watched Patricia prepping with Liam, a hint of jealousy would
simmer whenever Liam demonstrated a technique or offered a tip. Although
Bartolomeo had surfed with Liam a few times and knew him well, he
harboured mixed feelings about Patricia’s newfound passion for the sport and
drawing close to Liam.
The group’s trainer-guide, Raheem, from the local village, took charge of the
group. Raheem also had been helpful finding a cosy and affordable local B&B
and organising their evening meals. Raheem led them through a brief warm
up and shared the plan for the day. ‘Arugam Bay is kind to beginners but
gives thrill-seekers something to chase, too’, he explained. ‘Liam and Gilbert,
you two can head out towards the larger breaks. Patricia, Rachel, and
Bartolomeo, sticks with me, and we’ll start you on gentler swells,’ Raheem
said. Bartolomeo looked somewhat relieved, as Liam is not going to be with
them. However, Patricia sent him a determined glance; as if to say, we will
look into that.
With the sun over the ocean and waves rolling in, they all paddled out. Liam
and Gilbert made it appear effortless, riding larger waves with ease. Gilbert
cuts clean lines across the water, while the Liam rode has easy fluidity, even
drawing cheers from a few spectators on the shore. Patricia, meanwhile,
focused intensely on paddling, stealing glances time to time at Liam’s
movements. She overcame her fears, and her nerves disappeared because of
excitement. She diligently followed each piece of advice with fierce
concentration. Rachel, next to her, a great company and shared in the thrill,
her laughter punctuating each small success on the board.
In a matter of time, as determined as ever, Patricia managed her first real
stand, catching a small wave and balancing just long enough to make out a
successful sail before falling into the water. She emerges grinning, water
streaming down her face as she catches Liam’s approving nod and
Bartolomeo’s attempt to hide his worry behind a smile. Bartolomeo had been
hesitant about Patricia’s new obsession, yet seeing her joy, a spark of pride
began to replace his apprehension. However, when she paddled over to
approach Liam, asking for more tips, Bartolomeo could not resist. He found
himself paddling close, claiming he was simply ‘checking in.’
The ocean was nice to the nomads that day, and waves had a gentle yet lively
rhythm. This was perfect for surfers at all levels. The soft sea breeze filled the
air with light salinity, adding to the intoxicating freedom of the ocean in April.
While Patricia practiced balancing with a struggle, she couldn’t help but
watch the effortless way Liam and Gilbert rode the larger waves further out.
At one point, she braved to shout at Liam, ‘One day, I’ll be surfing like you
guys!’ Her voice carried a mix of ambition and playfulness that even made the
Raheem chuckle.
Arugam Bay beach buzzed with energy as more surfers arrived, driven by the
ideal conditions. Patricia’s determination grew with each attempt she made,
her focus sharpening as she observed the techniques of the more skilled
riders. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the ocean waves seemed to dance
with renewed vigour, inviting all who dared to join nature’s thrilling spectacle.
The surfers took a short break and gathered on wet, but slightly hot sand,
breathless, and exhilarated. Bartolomeo sprawled and flattened out, feigning
exhaustion. However, his eyes were directed at Patricia with amused
fondness, as she recounted each detail of her ride. Gilbert, the storyteller,
began to narrate the tales of his previous surf adventures with a bit of
exaggeration and wildhand gestures to embellish them.
By late afternoon, the majestic sun began to dip low, beautifully casting a
golden glow over Arugam Bay, as the nomads decided to try out one last set
of waves. Patricia, motivated by her small successes, paddled out with a sense
of newfound confidence. She managed to catch a wave, riding just long
enough to feel the rush of gliding across water. Her laughter echoed, as she
finally fell and watched the wave roll past her and disappeared. Bartolomeo
could not help but cheer for her this time, clapping his hands above his head
and seeing him fall as he loses his balance. Patricia made her way back to the
shore and the rest followed one by one with Rachel reaching the shore first.
As the group packed up their boards, each nomad felt the familiar pull of the
ocean, knowing this was just the beginning of many more surf days in Arugam
Bay. Raheem accompanied them to their Bed & Breakfast and reminded them
about the dinner he had arranged in the neighbourhood.
Their cosy huts, along with all modern amenities, offered shared facilities. The
previous night, rooms had been arranged separately for boys and girls, with
Patricia and Rachel sharing a twin-bed room. Mano, the driver stayed with
Raheem. The nomads, refreshed and gregarious after a shower, went to a
village eatery with Raheem. It was a non-frill, simple, authentic, traditional
Muslim meal served on banana leaves. Local samba rice cooked in coconut
milk was served with a popular Muslim dish called Kalia or ‘curry Musaka’
made of fried aubergine and green plantain laced with a dash of coconut milk.
This was accompanied by Mutton Korma and Malay pickles. The nomads
enjoyed their meals to the fullest, and Patricia and Rachel loved them.
The next morning, nomads with unforgettable memories of their surfing on
the waters of Arugam Bay headed back to Welisarane. During their long
journey, Patricia and Rachel found dosing for a few hours while boys played
cards. Mano carefully cruised the van and brought it home safely in the late
afternoon.
On their way home, the group reminisced about their surfing adventure,
sharing stories, and laughter as they travelled back. Patricia and Rachel’s
brief nap rejuvenated them, and they too joined in the card games with
renewed energy during the latter part of the journey. As the nomads
approached their home, Welisarane, a sense of bittersweet nostalgia settled
over the group, knowing that their memorable surfing expedition had come to
an end.
Chapter 21: Goodbye Tears
Farewell at Welisarane
On Saturday afternoon, the sun was sliding low over the horizon, casting a
pale-bright glow over the turquoise waters of Weligama Bay. The salty but
breezy air carried a sense of bittersweet melancholy, as the nomad at
Welisarane prepared for yet another farewell. The rustic charm of the colony,
nestled between swaying palm trees on the shores and the rhythmic crash of
waves, was a haven for wanderers seeking pleasure, connection, and
adventure. At least for now, its closely knit tapestry of friendships seemed to
unravel, bidding goodbye one after the other, although fresh bonds are being
made with new arrivals.
Rachel and Gilbert recall that Bartolomeo’s early departure had left a lingering
heaviness in the air. The Dutchman, once a vibrant presence in Welisarane
with his infectious laughter and adventurous spirit, was subdued in his final
days. His unanticipated heartbreak over Patricia was palpable, a quiet but
devastating storm that he bore with stoic resilience. Although he tried to hide
it silently, the strain of his father’s heart failure, warranting urgent surgery
back in the Netherlands, etched deep lines of worry on his face. When the day
came for him to leave, Rachel and Kanthi became fond of him. Rachel had
been around whenever he wanted, but her usual vivaciousness was dimmed
by her concern for him. Rachel would hug him tightly, whispering words of
encouragement while her own eyes glistened. Kanthi, ever the empath, would
stand nearby too, her sadness is evident as she watched him say goodbye.
Rachel recalled the day when Bartolomeo left. As he prepared to leave
everyone behind, the weight of his impending journey and the uncertainty
surrounding his father’s illness cast a sombre atmosphere on the farewell.
The trio stood together at a moment of shared vulnerability, and their
emotions intertwined like threads in a tapestry of friendship and support.
Despite the heaviness of their hearts, there was a silent and unspoken
understanding that their friendships and bonds would endure, regardless of
the distance or challenges that lay ahead.
Patricia, meanwhile, seemed not only indifferent to what was unfolding but
also untouched by the same sorrow. She would move back and forth with ease
and with a sense of recklessness that seemed callous. There were times she
would play and keep laughing brightly with Liam and mingle effortlessly with
the remaining nomads. The tension between Patricia and Rachel was subtle,
but undeniable. Rachel, also from the Netherland who had once been
Patricia’s confidante, now found herself detaching and pulling away, their
bond obviously strained by unspoken disapproval. Yet, deep in her heart,
Rachel still cared for Patricia, even if she could not make herself say it.
Patricia’s apparent joy and happiness with Liam and rest of the nomads
seemed to exacerbate the growing rift between her and Rachel. Despite their
shared Dutch heritage and past closeness, Rachel found herself unable to
bridge the ever-widening gap and her unspoken concerns created an invisible
barrier. The strain in their relationships was palpable, leaving close friends
struggling to reconcile their lingering affection with the widening gap between
them.
Kanthi also felt the shift keenly. To her, this group had been more than
friends; they had been like one family and a source of joy and comfort in a
transient and unpredictable world. Watching Bartolomeo leave and knowing
the departure of Rachel and Gilbert was imminent, left her feeling empty and
hollow. Kanthi had seen many nomads come and go, but this farewell felt
different—more final, more poignant.
The day they left was one of these mixed emotions. Rachel and Gilbert knew
that it was not going to be easy. The entire colony was moved, and the nomads
gathered near the dusty track where their minivan with Mano waited, its
engine idling as if hesitant to interrupt the moment. When they said final
goodbye, Kanthi and Patricia could not stop the tears running on their cheeks.
They clung to each other while tears streamed down their faces, as Rachel
embraced them one last time. As Rachel departed from them, Liam who stood
nearby, came closer to Patricia, extending his arm to drape around her while
his other hand raised to wave half-heartedly. Their usual chatter was replaced
by silence, interrupted only by occasional sniffles or murmured goodbye.
As the minivan cruised down the road in the late afternoon, leaving behind a
cloud of dust and a trail of memories, always cheerful Kanthi felt a pang of
loss, so deep it was almost physical. For Kanthi, Welisarane had been a
sanctuary for years, a place called home where she had shared meals, stories,
and dreams with all people who had become her closest friends. As the colony
became quieter, she wondered if it would ever feel the same in the future.
Yet, in Welisarane, there seems to be a sense of hope, wanderlust, and the
distant promise of future reunions, perhaps, under the same paradise sun.
Welisarane is more than a place; it is an idea, a spirit of community that would
live in the hearts of nomads who had called it home. As the sun is set on the
Bay of Weligama, casting its warm glow over the empty hammocks and the
burnt bonfire pit of Welisarane, those who remain would feel the stirrings of
new possibilities.
For the budding romantic couple Patricia and Liam, the future seemed
uncertain, but promising. Their relationship, although seems casual and built
on spontaneity and mutual attraction, was far from stable. However, they
thrived in the freedom of their nomadic lifestyles. Kanthi, a born optimist,
held the belief that their paths would cross again, whether in Sri Lanka,
Thailand, or some other corner of the world.
For Kanthi, Welisarane had always been a revolving door for arrivals and
departures, hellos, and goodbyes. Rachel and Gilbert were another such
examples who disappeared into the distance. As Kanthi turned to others, she
wiped her tears while smiling and said, ‘Let’s not forget’. She said with a
trembling but resolute voice.
‘Welisarane isn’t just a place or colony. It’s us, and wherever we go, we carry
it with us’, she said to the group.
They nodded, and their expressions softened. They all knew that the end of
one chapter marked the beginning of the new chapter. Who knows, under
different skies somewhere, new experiences awaited; perhaps, they would
reunite someday to share their stories and laughter once more.
As the first stars began to appear in the southern sky, the colony seemed to
exhale and its sorrow melted away, giving way to the gentle hum of possibility.
Welisarane was said to endure, not in its physical form, but in the memories
and connections it had fostered—a testament to the beauty of fleeting
moments and the enduring power of human connections.
The night air carried a bittersweet scent–a mixture of hope and nostalgia that
seemed to envelop the Welisarane. As the nomads gazed at the two stars
above, each person silently promised to carry the spirit of Welisarane with
them no matter where their journeys might lead. The bonds forged in this
colony would serve as a compass, guiding the nomads through new
adventures and reminding them of the strength they discovered within
themselves and each other.