Finding a routine

I walk down to buy my necessities.

Only the small candles are available and most of the items stocked are either in medium size boxes or sachets. Dry rations, such as, sugar, rice, dhal, onions, garlic, dryfish are available, and so are salmon tins and eggs. Baby products such as soap, powder and milk foods and Nestum is available too. A few wilted leaves are lying on the counter, and the vegetables are uniformly the same, on most days - cabbage, carrots, leeks, beans, tomatoes, and capsicums, with a few green chillies. Chicken sausages and soup noodles are also available.

These are mainly the daily requirements of the people in the village. They buy for the day, as most of them do not have refrigerators, and are dependent on the cash in hand Most often they tend to eat various kinds of yams; jak and breadfruit when in season. They even tend to cook various fruits such as papaya, sour sop etc. as a white curry. Thus most of their vegetables are generally supplemented from their own garden or someone else's garden. 

The proprietor hands me my paper smilingly and says: "Thank you madam, your getting the paper, has enabled us to get a daily paper too!" I feel pleased. I have paved the way to increase the sale of newsprint in the area! But I can't get him to stock larger candles or bigger boxes of the items I need. "They just wouldn't sell madam, and the dealers don't bring those items because people in these areas do not buy." 

So I am forced to make my way to the town. I get off the bus and scramble up a few steps to keep away from the motorist. This is a main town. But it still does not boast of proper sidewalks for pedestrians. The few sidewalks that are available have been turned into bazaars by the local vendors doing a brisk trade. The pedestrians and the vehicles vie with each other to occupy the little road space that is left. 

All the shops tend to be clustered together and there seems to be a myriad signboards running into one another. All of a sudden, a sign catches my eye. I stop and face the signboard to decide if it is worth the effort - stepping in, and then swiftly my head reverts to the left. An oncoming cyclist has just managed to jam his brakes, to avoid knocking me down! I apologise, he grins and passes by, both a little relieved that we had managed to head off a collision. 

At last I discover a little grocery store that not only has my basic requirements, but also stocks all the pasta and spices one may need - if one needs to make a gourmet meal. I am happy with my discovery, and purchase the essentials, adding a few extras to give my food a little "zip", and variety. 

Now, I am forced to make a choice - do I take a three-wheeler home or lug my purchases to the bus terminus, which is a 10-minute trek. The latter doesn't appeal to me, as I am conscious of the time and all the things waiting to get done, before the day is over. So I hail a three-wheeler and negotiate the price. But when I come to the destination it is the usual story...they try to extract the maximum. I compromise by giving him a little extra and swear under my breath, as I try to balance my purchases and open doors simultaneously, terrified that the electricity will be disrupted and leave me desolate. 

Power cuts, in these areas, are not confined to the evenings. They can also be self-inflicted through ignorance. Power can also be terminated when someone decides to lop off a few branches of a tree and thereby disrupt the supply to the rest of the neighbourhood. Then all one can do is hope and pray that the electricity breakdown team will answer a desperate cry and move into operation. As very few people depend on electricity to earn their living, a repair is not treated with the utmost urgency as in Colombo

So I learn to live by faith, and if at the end of the day I have managed to complete the tasks I have set myself, I whisper a prayer of gratitude to the Almighty, hoping I would be able to do the same, the following day!