I was reading a blog post I came across, about discrimination against Tamils at the Omanthai check point.
It reminded me of my own experience travelling to Jaffna on the bus.
I was asleep. Woken up as the bus slowed down. I have an NIC card. I don't know what I look like. Or sound like. Especially around 2am, groggy and tired.
I get down from the bus and people are asked to go through the check point. A farce of a check really, just carry your stuff and go through the line up. Like a military ruling state, which is, I remind myself, what we are. How sheltered we live in our little bubbles. How it must feel like to actually be a Tamil speaking person, and be looked upon suspiciously.
I was sleepy. I am walking through the line. Three women, huddled together. In Army uniform.
I hand over my id. They open my hand bag and start looking inside. They look over my id. Ask me a question. I forget what it was. I believe, something to the effect of "ah oya sinhalada" and astonishment and giggle almost. I am too tired and sleepy to comprehend. One nudges the other and says "meya sinhala." I am a sinhalese. It says so on my NIC. "Ah hari hari, yanna." They don't even bother with my bag after that. Free to go on account of being a the majority type. As if there were no accounts of the sinhala terrorists who helped the LTTE. How funny.
I am dazed.
I will let you do the commentary. True story. One of I wonder how so many. How ashamed I felt because I know the people behind me heard. How awful it must be, to be treated second class citizens by a bunch of very badly trained security personnel. How I shudder to think how professional these army women were. Imagine these people on a battle field. With guns. In uniform.
No, post war Sri Lanka is beautiful and we are truly the tear drop of the indian ocean.