In the summer of 1983, after my junior year in high school, I spent about 6 weeks in Colombo, Sri Lanka with a Sinhalese family on an AFS summer home stay program. My stay was cut a bit short at the end, when the conflict between Tamil separatists and Sinhalese militants came to the country's capital. Tamil families living in our neighborhood were spending the night at my host family's home, fearing the roving gangs who were systematically identifying Tamil homes and businesses, chasing out the occupants, then looting, and burning the properties. My family wanted me back in Kansas City. With travel and activities all over Sri Lanka limited by a government curfew, I decided to leave. I contacted the US embassy and arranged passage. There, I met a few of my AFS cohorts. They had each been staying with Tamil families and had been physically chased from their host's homes. We'd all be heading back to the United States together.
It would be a couple of days before we could get a flight out of Sri Lanka, and I was placed temporarily in the home of an American family living nearby. Their son and I were about the same age. After we lunched with his parents, he asked me if I'd ever seen or read 2001: A Space Odyssey. I'd watched the movie in a film-as-literature class in high school. He asked me if I'd like to meet the author, who was a neighbor. With only another day in the country, I jumped at the chance.
We went under the pretense of borrowing his VHS copy of 2001: A Space Odyssey. The housekeeper made us take off our shoes before entering his villa. We were escorted to the upstairs office of Arthur C. Clarke. He was tall, silver-haired, with thick glasses and belly, a simultaneously distinguished and disheveled appearance. He introduced himself and apologized that he didn't have much time to chat. His assistant had been missing for a day, and he was concerned about their welfare in the city's recent chaos. Also missing was his video of 2001, which neighbors seemed to borrow on a rotating basis. He made a point of showing off his new personal computer, on which he was writing the screenplay for 2010. He was clearly excited with the new technology, which he'd been writing about for years, and he wondered aloud how he'd ever written without it. I shook the man's hand, and told him that I'd seen his movie, and what a pleasure it was to meet him. He thanked me politely before hustling us out and into the hot, humid Colombo afternoon.
In less than 24 hours, I sat on an airplane headed for Singapore with 4 or 5 other American high school students, our sojourn in Sri Lanka colored by larger events.
Best memories from Colombo, Sri Lanka, Summer 1983: Watching a Sri Lankan community theater production of West Side Story with my host family. Making a silver ring in my family's jewelry shop. Watching the Miss Universe Pageant on television with my host family, a world away from the live contest happening just across my home state in St. Louis, MO. Making rice crispy treats for my host family, who called it "a most-interesting pudding." Hearing "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" by Eurythmics on the radio for the first time with my host brother Chandima. And meeting the late, great Arthur C. Clarke, b. 1917; d. March 19, 2008. May he be remembered fondly.
