With them, in two weeks, two infested mud huts near Polonnaruwa were replaced with plastered red brick homes with corrugated tin roofs, windows, and doors for the single Christian family of five and a similar Muslim family.
Ravi was not just the leader of a gang. He was connected.
Statuesquely and regally, Ravi's grandmother walked the
village several times a day to make sure we Yanks were properly
cared for. We didn't have to be told who the mayor was.
Agnes Perera exuded power and respect with every step. And it was her property upon which we were building the one Christian converted
family's home in this Muslim village.
Ravi was not just connected. He was also Sri Lanka's
kickboxing champion.
On our building departure day, Ravi took Dave and me to his
championship-training gymnasium.
Sixty yards from the home we had built for the Jananandana family, adjacent to his home on the hard village sand, stood a boulder, fifteen feet away was a tree, twelve feet away in another corner a bush grew. This was Ravi's training ring.
As we departed, Dave left his worn tennis shoes stuffed with
a hundred dollars under the tree.
Neither terrorists nor their ideas will grab a toehold near
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