My summer in Sri Lanka came to a sudden and abrupt ending towards the end of August.  After sustaining an ankle injury on the first day I arrived in Sri Lankan that didn’t heal well, the insurance company made the decision to curtail my trip two weeks before the end of the programme.  To say this news was utterly devastating is an understatement.  I have dedicated the past four years of my life to Project Sri Lanka, and the communities we support.  Despite having absolute confidence in my Team’s ability to continue without me, as team leader I felt I was letting both them and the Trustees of the Charity down by returning home.  What was perhaps even harder was saying such a sudden goodbye to the people in Sri Lanka who have become like an extended family to me.

I would like to say that since my involvement with PSL, I have been able to help many people in Sri Lanka through my hard work.  The fact is that probably the opposite is true.  Prior to joining PSL in 2010, I was moved by words in a book that read “before you can change the world, let the world change you”.  Little did I realise at the time just how profound these words have proved to be.  Don’t get me wrong, I truly believe the impact of mine and other PSL members work has had a hugely positive effect on the lives of the people in our communities.  What I am saying is that every bit of myself I have put into the Project has been rebounded three-fold on my own life.  I have developed a deep connection to Sri Lanka, the culture and the villagers who have become like family to me.  I never ceased to be amazed by the warmth and sincerity with which Sri Lankan people have accepted me into their homes and lives, despite the obvious language barrier.  In doing so they have helped me recognise the many aspects of my life that I have unthinkingly taken for granted; the NHS, the humble flat I rent, the love of my friends and foster parents and the freedom and opportunities afforded me as a British citizen.  Moreover, they have inadvertently shown me the meaninglessness of materialism in our consumer driven society.  I am frequently humbled by the kindness and generosity of Sri Lankan people; the pre-school teacher on a basic wage who had nothing else to give me except one of her wedding-gift saris as a symbol of esteem and friendship; the village women who have sent text messages to my UK phone every few days since my return, concerned about the progress of my injury; the tears of gratitude in the eyes of old friends each time I have returned to visit.

Now I have adjusted to the cold and bustle of UK life and my mundane daily routine of lectures at University and evenings slaving away at my laptop, the warmth of Sri Lankan life seems distant.  I have slowly regained mobility in my ankle but the fading ache is a reminder of the home and family I have left on the other side of the world and the country I set out to change, but that ended up changing me in more ways than I can describe.