President Halangoda’s opponents accused him of a cover up. Rumors of a secret deal with the Chinese swirled. The president deflected the criticism, suggesting an ISIS connection and even briefly jailing the mayor of Batticaloa. Ramadan was a subdued affair, with the minority celebrants wary of backlash and violence. After a brief delay and cleanup from the flooding, the harbor project resumed. A Chinese diving firm was brought in to finish the underwater work there.

Despite the turmoil, Halangoda easily won re-election, running on a nationalist anti-Muslim platform with the strong backing of the Sinhalese majority and the Buddhist Power Army. In the swearing in of the new government at Parliament, a traditional Buddhist blessing was given by the Venerable Udugala Dhammasara.

Sebastian de Silva closed down the Deep Blue Diving Resort and headed back to Colombo to await the start of the West Coast diving season. It promised to be a challenging one. Tourism was down and the southwest monsoon was running late this year.

Ahmed Raheem had had enough. He shuttered his garage in Pasikudah and made plans to move his family to Pakistan, where his brother assured him he could find work repairing farm equipment. Before he closed the heavy overhead door to his shop, he took a last look at the half-assembled old Land Rover inside, still on jack stands. He’d been restoring it for years, but it would be too expensive to ship. The new shop owner promised to finish the job. Ahmed hoped he would.

Ian Walsh stayed on in Sri Lanka, marrying a local woman and accepting Upali Karuna’s old directorship at the Ministry of Culture, History and Archaeology. He had partially recovered from the bends and was able to walk with a cane, but he would likely never dive again. He still enjoyed being on boats and the tropical climate agreed with him.

In Galle, Raj, the fisherman, went back to his nightly work, plying the offshore reefs for mackerel, snapper, and the occasional shark. One day, while cleaning nets in his shed by the Galle harbor, he knocked over a bucket of dirty water. Something shiny spilled out and he picked it up. It was some sort of shackle from a sailing boat and engraved on its side was a symbol, three lines creating an arrow. He turned it over in his hands and studied it. Deciding it could be of no use to him, he stepped out of the shed and, with the perfect form of the street cricket bowler he once was, heaved it across the road, where it skipped once on the surface of the harbor and sank like a stone.

Mad Dogs and Michiganders

Lac la Belle, Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. January.