Electricity

The day the electricity arrived, Felix said, “Tonight we’ll have cold drinks!” We’d watched the poles go in, one by one, marching south toward us from Trincomalee. We were staying in one of Felix’s small grass-thatched huts on Kalkudah Beach in northeastern Sri Lanka. The communal shower was behind a screen but open to the sky, a lukewarm (warmed by the sun) trickle of fresh water to wash away the day’s salt spray. Every night we’d eat fish and rice and vegetables for supper and drink tall glasses of lukewarm juice or water or beer. The fish was always freshly caught, hauled onto the beach in long nets in the morning by gaunt, sun-parched fishermen, and grilled over an open flame by Felix’s wife. We never tired of it. We’d sit around talking in the soft light of several candles and a lantern, sharing stories. Sometimes Felix would talk about Sri Lanka, and about his hopes and fears for the future.