By Paul Topping

We are trekking in the Knuckles Mountains of Sri Lanka, and on a small, unmade mountain track some 2,000 feet above sea level. The road leads to a tea estate and some basic houses. We are joined by a village dog who acts as a guide for the rest of the day. How we pay him is unclear. On the track, a cricket match is going on between a bunch of local Tamil boys.

The pitch is the narrow track, and it has a slope of about twenty-five degrees, on each side, obviously one side down and one up, where the fielders stand among the trees and shrubbery. The bowler runs up and bowls the tennis ball well, and the batsman hits it back with accuracy down the track. This is repeated a number of times.

Jezzabel, widely known to blatantly join in any party or sports activity, even if not invited, or should I say especially when not invited, does so at this cricket match. She asks if she can have a go at batting. The bat is just a piece of timber cut to resemble a bat. The bowler, seeing it’s a woman and not from these parts, gives a slow, soft ball. She whacks it into the air. The boys stand little chance of catching it as it’s well off the track and in the wilderness, undergrowth, and trees. Feeling well embarrassed as all hope diminishes of finding the ball, Jezzabel gives the wicketkeeper a thousand-rupee note to purchase a replacement ball. All the boys playing on the hill continue to search as we leave the “scene of the crime”.

We recommence our walk, and after five minutes, we hear the voice of someone behind us. It’s the boy we gave the money to. He shows us he has found the ball and hands back the money we gave him. He has no shoes on, his t-shirt is ripped, and he looks like he needs a good wash. We insist he keep the money.  

What can we learn from this true story? A glimpse of the harsh living existence on a tea plantation, only being able to play cricket on a little narrow, unmade single track road on a mountainside, but be happy. The boys' tenacity to find the ball and to return the money. For all of us on our walk, it was the honesty of all the boys who did the right thing that we remember most.

The Whinging Pome random rule, “play your life game with honesty and integrity, who and wherever you are “.