The Third Wave_ A Volunteer Story - Alison Thompson [53]
Before I was handed my sash, one of the village troublemakers who had spread many false rumors about us slipped an envelope into my hands. I made the mistake of quickly reading it to myself between speeches. In the letter, he expressed his disappointment at how unfair he thought it was that I hadn’t distributed the antibiotics and medicines equally to everyone throughout the village and had instead stored them in the hospital. He complained about everything, including the moon. As I looked up from reading his note, they were announcing my Nightingale award. The bad man’s words washed away with the joyful cheers from my many newfound friends. He was a rotten seed, and I knew in my heart that those types never grow in the end.
Following the ceremony, the chief invited our core group of volunteers over for a last supper. The night was calm, and we could see the lights of other campfires sparkling throughout Peraliya. The chief had been fishing for us since early dawn and sat around an open fire cooking up his catch. His wives and family cuddled around us as we laughed into the night. In turn, we all expressed our love for one another. We had formed unbreakable bonds over the past six months. The chief cried as he said that he was extremely sad to see us go and thanked us for saving his village. He told us that he would miss our friendship.
Then the chief presented us with silver rings formed in the shape of the island of Sri Lanka. In each ring sat a small red ruby, which was placed exactly where Peraliya is located on the Sri Lankan map. He asked us to wear the rings whenever we came to visit so that his offspring would recognize and honor us. The chief had a romantic way about him that I loved. The rings fit perfectly and served as a treasured souvenir of our unexpected adventure.
On leaving the chief’s house, I found a dead snake on the railway tracks. This to me symbolized the end of a long battle with negative forces that had constantly been testing us throughout our stay. I was thankful that the snake was dead for now, but I knew it wasn’t the end of him.
The next morning, in our last moments in Peraliya, Oscar, Donny, and I walked hand in hand along the railway tracks while my Tsunami-dog followed behind us. I had arranged for a village family to take care of her, giving them an ample supply of dog food, but I was still heartbroken at having to leave her behind. Bruce was too busy to come with us on our final tour. He had raced off on his bike, saying that he had to tie up loose ends at all the businesses he’d helped start. But I think he also may have been trying to avoid having to say good-bye.
Families came out from their houses and children collected behind us as we made our rounds through the village. Many of the villagers still begged for help, while others cried. Oscar had tears pouring down his face as he hugged the children. We had stayed for the children and had learned so much from them. But I was truly in an exhausted state and had nothing left to give. I also knew that it was important for the villagers to get on with their lives again without us. Eventually, we managed to tear ourselves away and climb into the van we’d hired to drive us back to Colombo for our flights home.