I managed to get a couple of hours of sleep last night, perhaps almost three hours even, so as you can imagine, I wasn’t exactly feeling fresh and fantastic when my alarm went off at 5:30am this morning. I tried to get a little sleep in the car on the way across to Ampara though, and although I didn’t get to enjoy much of the countryside, I was feeling a little better by the time the car pulled up outside one of the satellite factories.
The glimpses I did catch of the scenery were just stunning. Palm trees blossom out of the ground wherever you look, lakes and rivers shimmer in the shady green of dense vegetation, and emerald mountains proudly challenge the sapphire overhead. Nestled amongst the fronds of tropical jungle are little houses, some made of little more than wattle and daub, with enormous leaves woven into their rooftops. These homes, or gayas, are spread far apart to create large sprawling communities, some with electricity, some without, some with running water, some with wells. Every now and again, atop a hill, you can spot a large Buddha, reflecting golden sunlight off golden skin, and when you reach a town, the everyday hubbub fills the streets as tuk tuks motor around, street dogs meander from shop to shop, women stroll under colourful umbrellas, and plantation workers crowd into the trailers of old rusty tractors.
I’m not attempting to be hyperbolic with the above description; rural Sri Lanka is just like something out of a film, making the distance between Ampara and Colombo – which is barely a six hour drive – feel much longer. The roads have been greatly improved recently, and most are smooth and free of potholes, although they are not quite as well kept as you reach more Eastern parts. The first factory we reached was a small factory with about 150 employees. It was shut, because it’s the weekend, but the manager came to let us in, and I had the chance to ask him a few questions about the factory. Whilst the workforce is predominantly Sinhalese, there are also employees of Tamil and Muslim ethnicity, but this does not cause problems in the factory as most of them are able to speak Sinhalese. Even in the small canteen, apparently, employees will all sit together regardless of ethnicity. They come from a roughly 10km radius, and are collected in a lorry each morning from selected pick up points in each community. One of the first things I noticed was the brand of the sewing machines; “Oh! Juki!” I exclaimed, and then explained that the book I’d just finished reading was all about the ‘Juki girl’ stigma. I asked if any of the girls here were labelled with the ‘Juki girl’ nickname, and the manager laughed and said “Not any more”. Baba G went on to confirm that this is a respectable job, unlike some of the city-based garment factories. Overhead in the factory were lots of motivational signs, one of which read ‘Unity is Power’. I also noticed that there were two flags displayed in the factory: the Sri Lanka flag and the Sinhala Buddhist flag, and in one of the offices was a large golden Buddha, visible to the factory floor.
We moved on from there and went to Baba G’s house in Ampara to dump our things and freshen up before visiting the big factory that I’ll be researching. I was expecting this one to also be empty, but various stations had people working at them, getting various pieces finished off. Today, the workforce seemed to be surprisingly evenly constituted of men and women, however, there can’t have been many more than 400 workers there today, and I’m told there are nearly 2000. They’ll all be there tomorrow, so I’ll see then what the workforce dynamics are like. Baba G took me on a tour of the factory, and introduced me to various supervisors and other employees whom she knows from previous visits. I was also introduced to the manager of the factory, who’s a very jovial man who’s going to give me a thorough tour of the factory tomorrow morning. Everyone seems to be very amused by the idea of me coming to work in the factory, but not unpleasantly so. I had a couple of gentle punches on the arm from one woman, and a few giggles accompanied by ‘(something something) Sinhalese?’ from another, to whom I smiled and shook my head. I’m learning bits, although apparently a lot of the workers have a basic grasp of English too. On the whole, everyone Baba G introduced me to seemed very welcoming, but I will admit I am a little nervous. The speed of the girls who were stickering pieces of fabric was phenomenal, so will I keep up? And language is not going to be straightforward, so I really hope I don’t make mistakes. I’ll only be putting things into boxes with labels I think, but there’s always space for error. I have no idea what I’ll do at lunch time, who I’ll sit with or what I’ll eat, and I don’t even know whether I should take a bottle of water with me or quite what. Apparently all the other workers have their own cups, so should I take my own also? Whilst there are these unanswered questions, I think these are all things I’ll learn in the next couple of days. And I’m also excited. Realistically, I don’t think for a minute that I’ll be shown the slightest bit of hostility, judging on the responses I saw today.
As far as what I should be wearing is concerned, the women in the factory were wearing long skirts, knee length skirts, or trousers, with a t-shirt or blouse, so that’s easy enough to replicate. And the majority seem to slip their shoes off too while working, which saves hot and sore feet by the end of the day. I might go shopping tomorrow for some more basic t-shirts though: the manager told me that Tuesday would be a 7am start, and I won’t finish until around 5pm, so I want to be comfortable on what are likely to be quite long and tiring days. I’m now shattered – there’s probably more I should be writing about today but I’ll have to amalgamate it into tomorrow’s observations. Night for now!
P.S. Baba G has just decided to go through my blog. The elderly gentleman previously mentioned who appeared in the kitchen the other day was her driver, he’s not that elderly, and he was wearing a sarong, not a towel. Also, she’s told me what the maids call me: Sudhu Baba. White Baby.
Sri Lanka: A Research Project 