Touts

After Dan had worked for one week we tried to be tourists again on the weekend. There was a line for the Temple of the Tooth, so we went first to a nearby devali were Dan almost came to blows with a tout. The tout was trying to get us to leave our shoes in a certain location. A devali is not really a building so much as it is an enclosure around several small shrines and a bodhi tree. The place is all dirt and sand, but you must take your shoes off as it is a holy area. Dan has had his shoes stolen from several holy areas, so we carried our shoes with us. The tout approached us in English and Dan replied fairly nicely in Singhala. Rather than melt back into the crowd, the tout started to follow us, doing his touting routine in his native tongue. I would think he would see that this cover was blown, but instead he started to get angry when we would not obey. He started to try speaking in English again, this time to me, and I stone-walled him. Dan started to tell him in a firm voice not to approach me. At this point I knew our little outing was over and started heading straight for the entrance as fast as I could, shoes firmly in hand. Dan followed me out.

The last time we walked into town for dinner this week another tout approached us, asking us if we remembered him, “from the hotel, with the baggage?” he asked. He had approached me in the street when I was alone a few weeks ago, so I knew the routine verbatim. When he started to follow us Dan led off in angry Singhala saying “did I give you permission to speak to me?” The tout stayed glued to Dan, just behind his left shoulder. Dan threatened to hit him if he did not leave us. “This is Sri Lanka,” the tout yelled, “You have to be able to talk to people.” After a brief and angry exchange in English the both tout and Dan became enraged; “I will pick up a rock and smash your fucking face in you motherfucker,” He screamed down the street as I dragged Dan away. The tout’s English was excellent. He claimed to work for the Hotel Sharon. I can see the Hotel Sharon from my kitchen window. With the Perahera over we are practically the only white people in town. Sometimes I wonder if he is waiting for us? Does he know where we live?

Dan breaks the rules of touts. They expect you to follow them like hungry puppies. If you ignore them they are annoyed and may curse you, but they usually drift away quickly. By confronting them in Singhala Dan tears off their “face.” Face is a very important concept in the East, and enters the American consciousness with the phrase “to lose face.” This expression implies an uncomfortable and perhaps humiliating experience, but does not capture the true crisis for the Asian losing face. When the Hotel Sharon tout approached me I totally and utterly ignored him, he became a bit angry and followed me for awhile, but went away without incident. He did not get his money from me and I did not cause him to lose face on the street. As long as the touts don’t touch me I can ignore them indefinitely as I quickly move toward the first establishment where I am known, like a favorite restaurant, or a shop I know has security. You can’t just duck in anywhere; some local establishments will support the tout and not you. Hotels and restaurants will allow touts to pose as employees as the tout continues to con the white skinned tourist. The hotel or restaurant gets the business while the tout works his angle. The mantra I have preached for years to anyone who will listen is that normal people leave you alone. Only touts can comfortably approach you. Some travelers say it is pessimistic to say that no non-tout would ever stop to help. I agree and I have accepted the help of strangers at various times. When normal people stop to offer help they convey an air of embarrassment. Also, non-tout people help you accomplish what you were trying to accomplish in the first place, they do not try to change your mind. These two criteria are my litmus test and they have served me well.

We headed on to dinner after our encounter with the Hotel Sharon tout. “I just can’t stand that they think they can approach me like that, they’re scum,” Dan growled. “I’ve lived here for four years. They would never dare approach a Sri Lankan that way.”
“They look at your white skin and they don’t see all the stamps in your passport.” I replied. “But what is the point of getting in someone’s face in the street anyway? You are not going to get him to stop touting.” I finished, a bit annoyed at his aggressive behavior.
“We live here now. We’re not just passing through. I want to send the message that we are not to be fooled with. I don’t want you bothered when you go out alone. I just want them to stop touting us. Word gets out between them. I mean, how many touts are there in Kandy? There’s Snake Man, you’ve already busted him, there are the three of four guys who work the Temple and the devalis, and this hotel guy.” He finished. “Snake Man” was a tout who walked around the touristy area of the lake, he always carried an umbrella. He would gaze into the water intently when he saw white skin coming along the sidewalk that hugged the edge of the lake. When the tourist passed he would point with the umbrella and say “water snake.” I have to admit that the first time I looked too. That is his ice-breaker. He then touts trips to the north, local hotels, and hotels in the north. The next time I saw him I pointed into the lake and said “water snake,” before he could even get it out.
“Up until now I have mostly ignored them, except that thing with Snake Man,” I replied, “but that’s only out of fear. I am afraid to confront them a following tout like Hotel Man, I worry that they will take it to the next level or something. It’s that American ‘culture of fear’ mindset. You flick someone off in traffic for cutting you off and they whip out their Desert Eagle and blow you away.”
“They can’t hurt you. Nobody has guns here. They are impossible to get legally and very expensive illegally. The police know all of the touts anyway. They don’t want to attract attention.”
“I guess I feel like if someone touched me I would retaliate, or I hope I would be able to retaliate. How many degrees of separation are there between touching my ass and walking two inches from it down there street while talking in my ear?” I asked, thoughtfully, starting to see Dan’s point.
“Not too many. I can’t stand when they stay close to me like that,” he replied. “I also think that the touts expect a certain degree of respect from the white people that they are not going to get from their own culture. They expect us to listen to them. Even if I talk to them, they expect you to acknowledge them too,” he furthered.
“That’s when the tout at the devali got pissed, when I would not give him recognition,” I mused.
“Anyway, when I have lived here before I get tout attention briefly, but then they all figure it out and leave me alone. I want to make an extra point this time so that they know to leave you alone too. I want you to feel comfortable going out here,” Dan finished.

After our meal, we walked along the river. As we approached Tree Man’s location and I got my two Rupee coin ready in my pocket. When we arrived at the tree with the cleft the man was sleeping inside, snuggled up against the back of the tree. The plastic ice cream container was out but empty. I quickly stooped to deposit the coin, to Dan’s surprise. “I’ve decided to patronize Tree Man,” I explained. “He doesn’t bother anyone, he just stays there in the tree. I like that. He has become familiar to me now,” I furthered.
“Well, now he will have something nice to wake up to,” Dan commented, squeezing my hand.
While walking back up the hill, we passed Malik at his second hotel, next to the Hotel Sharon. We explained what had happened that night. Malik apologized that he did not know the man from our description of the routine. “If I knew the man, I would go and get him and bring him here,” Malik explained, pointing decisively at the floor of the hotel. Behind him his all-male staff nodded in agreement. “You know this man, with the umbrella all the time he is carrying?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, Snake Man,” I replied laughing.
“Yes, the snake man. He brought tourists here, and went into the back, into the kitchen to get glasses, like he worked here. I told him never again. It is hard for us sometimes, this is a restaurant too, open to everyone. Sometimes a tourist, she will bring a man here, maybe to buy some drink or something and they will be talking. We do not interfere. But do not go into the back and get glasses and say that you are one of my men or my brother or something. That will be the last time,” Malik finished heatedly. I was shocked. “I can’t believe that they just walk into your kitchen like they work here,” I exclaimed.
“They think we will back them up, that we can all get what we want. But that is not how my guests will be treated,” Malik said firmly.
“Thanks for the explanation,” I spoke sincerely back. Malik encouraged Dan to file a police report. “But do not tell your friends in the military,” he warned, “They will find him and really hurt him.”
“I had my shoes stolen from a temple one time,” Dan replied, nodding his head in agreement, “I went to the cops and they knew the guy. They found him, got my shoes back, and then beat the man right in front of me. I had to ask for mercy for the man.”
“Yes, that is how it is sometimes,” Malik agreed. “This place needs the tourists. The police do not like to see shoes getting stolen, they will side with you,” he finished.
“That is one of my fears also,” I replied, “That the local people and police will side with the tout.”
“No, this is not so. Sri Lankans hate touts. The police want to encourage tourism, so they will be with you,” Malik re-assured me. He then apologized that we had such an unpleasant experience as we left for home.