My first real night in Sri Lanka has been an interesting and informative night.

At my new hotel at around 4:30pm I was told I would need to wait 15 minutes till I could find out about my room. So I took a stroke to explore and was gone for about 35 minutes.

As I strolled A gentlemen approached me and chatted with me in a very friendly manner before offering to take me to a gem and stone exhibition, as he called it. I was happy enough to go along to learn what I would be up against from people approaching me.

He led me a couple of blocks to a building and a guard outside opened it up and inside was a large jewellery store. True to his word. I was given the tour by the operators and learnt that the Australian cricket team had come through in 2011 and bought a bunch of gems and jewellery. I was also given the history of the rock now perched on little miss Middletons finger, a Sri Lankan sapphire of prestigious renown.

I left there after my tour and spotted a Baskin Robbins – had to get myself a vanilla ice cream – it was rubbish, but as I was purchasing the man showed up again as if i had run off and abandoned him. I was curious as to his intentions now that he was so keenly keeping tabs on me as we left the shop he tried to persuade me to follow him to a masseuse and then for shopping and even offers to drive me home, but I politely declined and walked away and he gave up without a struggle and walked the other way. Not so bad, I’d experienced worse at the hands of the hill tribes women in Sa Pa.

A block from my hotel an old man began the tragic tale of his heart condition taking away his ability to work in hard services and that he can’t feed his family and needs baby milk powder, insisting that I don’t give him money but instead March to the local store and buy the powder and give it to him. I wanted to believe him but if I had, I’d be broke in a day. He relentlessly followed me to the hotel constantly raining blessings of god down upon me and in the end left empty handed.

Back At my hotel I was met by the manager, a long bearded fellow by the name of draped in a white dress robe and white hat, who first ply apologised for being late due to mass and then proceeded to explain that my room was not ready due to my late booking and the previous occupants currently still residing inside. I said this was fine and proceeded to wait another hour whilst everything was readied.

As I waited I was consumed by the idea that he was a Muslim and that I was inside an Islamic community area. An idea that needed sating yet I felt complete reluctance to ask, almost a fear that asking would somehow lead to something horrific. So I didn’t. I waited and fell asleep, and awoke to him gently tugging my arm to tell me the room was ready, but he didn’t simply tug my arm as I awoke he proceeded to hold my hand and lead me, and he did so I a completely gentle manner yet I was acutely aware at how confronted and taken back I was by this intimate gesture.

He lead me up the elevator to my room which I must say is fairly impressive, for my waiting and patience I was upgraded to a better room and given a licence to check out whenever I pleased. As well as a thousand apologies.

After a shower and change I went for downstairs to enquire about dinner and was met by another man of similar appearance and attire, who explained that my best bet was what looked like a chain restaurant a block away. I set off and the place resembled a upmarket fast food chain. Like a Nandos or similar. I had quite good well cooked Sri Lankan/Indian food which was pleasing.

On my way back and opposite my hotel was what I though an unfinished construction project, which I soon found out was instead a Mosque. Another old man similar to the others approached me as I was standing staring and introduced himself and asked if I was Muslim, to which I replied no and Then quickly found myself asking about the mosque and if I could see more. He gave me a brief tour from the outside as people were praying inside and I drew a lot of concerned and concerning looks.

We left and I went to enter the hotel when the man began asking for money, it seems to be the thing to do here, so I gave him some, as he had provided me a service.

I walked into the hotel lobby to find the Imam of the Mosque and a simple follower named Jezzi who wished me well in the formal Arabic; As-salamu alaykum, meaning; peace be upon you. I immediately turned and began asking questions, politely. Jezzi and the Imam quite happily engaged me and asked questions of me in return and were almost physically shocked when I responded to their enquiry about my religion, I responded simply that I had no religion or faith. Jezzi seized on this and began trying to explain to me the need for faith in the one true god and to gods laws. I happily listened and talked with this man for about 20 minutes, his fever was captivating but it was his eyes and face that held my attention he wasn’t an old man maybe mid thirties and I was aware that although I wanted desperately to know more and ask questions and listen, that I was doing so because I was afraid. I was desperately seeking safety in their answers, not a religious safety but a physical safety, I wanted to know that they were safe people, because I couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t, and more disturbingly I didn’t know where it came from.

It was an insane moment, I was becoming more and more aware of how sub-consciously I was afraid of Muslims and the faith of Islam and at first I couldn’t understand why. Only after did I sit and think about it did I realise that it was because of how I had seen and heard the Muslim faith portrayed to me throughout my life.

There’s a huge misconception and fear of the Muslim faith, and I have never thought about it until now, but it has made its way into my mind. I think about Muslims and I immediately draw conclusions to radical belief and uncompromising blindness in the face of gods will and what that could translate to, and my mind conjures ideas of kidnappings and dismemberment. Utter utter craziness, driven by fear. And I am no stranger to fear and how it warps the mind but this was strange to me. I have been in some strange and scary places through south East Asia and over never felt scared or unease, this was very different and I believe it mostly came from a base of unknowing, I didn’t know how to talk to these people, I didn’t think I could talk to them normally which is an amazingly fucked up thought in its own and I didn’t want to offend but I needed to know more to ease my fear.

But here I was with people who were being nothing but friendly and curious and I can’t shake the fear, and I feel stupid and ignorant and wholly dissatisfied with myself and compelled to confess this irrationally blind behaviour that is in its complete entirety my own failing.

We finish talking and Jezzi bids me farewell and before he leaves the Imam departs to grab me a phone number and a contact number for the mufti. The mufti is the title for a person of higher standing than an Imam within the Muslim faith. It seems they are eager for me to ask my questions to this person, he is more able to interpret and answer for me.

We say farewell and I depart for my room upstairs reeling from my encounter and unravelling things in my mind when I hear a knock at my door and I open it to find the Imam has returned with someone else and they walk into my room as they announce that they have come to answer more of my questions. I believe the Imams lack of English has led him to seek his friend to talk with me. The Imam by the way is roughly 24 years old at best guess and as I was to find out later able to recite the entire Koran from any section page or point word for word exactly as it is written.

I gladly welcome them both and steer them downstairs out of my room. We sit downstairs and the newcomer introduces himself as Faaiq. They love their beards nearly as much as I do. There’s an unease in me as Faaiq begins questioning me about how I am with a deeper intent, after talking for a bit we realise that the Imam has misunderstood me and believed me to be some form of novice Muslim seeking further knowledge and answers about the faith. With this cleared up Faaiq begins to give me a crash course in the Islamic faith a quite eye opening window into their beliefs, specifically the following:
– the word Muslim literally means a person who submits to god.
– Allah is the Arabic word for god as well as one of the names of god and his proffered name.
– there are 5 rules to being a Muslim, as was told to me:
1. One god, that there is only one god and no substitute in any form.
2. That there are angels. Countless angels who believe in god.
3. That there are the prophets and there are the prophet messengers. Mohamed, Jesus and Abraham amount others are all prophet messengers. Humans who through the angels brought the word of god. There are thousands of prophets. Not so many messengers. Only messengers bring the word of god.
4. Belief in the books of god, the Koran, the Torah and the Bible. But only in their original unchanged versions.
5. That a Muslim must submit to the will of god and this was explained to me as the preordained destiny of oneself. That god may change things in life but the destiny of a mans death is preordained and cannot be changed and to accept this.

They see their religion as different due to a oneness with god. They compared Christianity as needing a conduit to speak with god and that this is wrong, that to be Muslim means to have a direct line with god and not through any other portal or being.

Faaiq had travelled 300ks today to conduct business, he works as a jeweller and travelled north to the mines and factories. After we talked for some time he offered to set me up with places to stay and things to do if I needed whilst I am staying and exploring in Sri Lanka.

I felt much much more at ease by the time we had finished talking and we shook hands and said our farewells the Imam as well, who still offered me another number despite having been corrected on my intentions. Faaiq was as tiered as I was and keen to keep talking but a call from his wife demanded his attention at home so we parted ways. Every farewell completed with a handshake that resembles more of a bro-shake that I practice with mates.

I have since come upstairs and written this and am now overcome with tiredness as I have slept barely over the last 2 nights (thank you Laurence Cremean) I usually hold a post for a day or two to edit and rethink but I think I’ll post this now as it is and deal with any opinions/blowback tomorrow.