In November of 2004 parts of northern Sri Lanka were inundated with water following a period of intense rains. (this was the month before the Asian tsunami struck). I had traveled to the north to visit Sri Lanka Army units there and to meet several of my friends who were serving senior officers in the army.

I knew from previous visits to the forward defensive line that at least one of the divisions there suffered from a very high incidence of snake bites, not surprising considering there are 97 species of snakes in Sri Lanka, 24 of which are venomous. One surgeon told me that she saw an average of one soldier a day who had been bitten by a snake, and while the army had anti-toxin in sufficient quantity for all units, she still lost several soldiers a year. Snakes were a constant menace.

It was this division that I was visiting and I was quite surprised to find the soldiers in one brigade had been forced to move out of their bunkers by the rising waters and were sitting, in the open, on the tops of their bunkers while the water lapped at the edges of their sandbags. I supposed it might be some consolation to them that the enemy bunker line was also inundated, but it seemed surreal, seeing soldiers sitting in the open, within a few hundred meters of each other across a no-man’s-land of water and occasional floating mines. Several plastic mines had already floated to the surface and washed up against trees or other objects, detonating and sending a shower of mud and debris on those closest. No one had been killed by a floating mine, but leaders were certainly concerned that it could happen. Rain continued intermittently, causing the water to rise and more mines to break free from the mud.

Because the roads were underwater, the platoon leaders were rowing food out to the soldiers on the bunker line, and because of limited boats, the soldiers were only getting two, rather than their regular three meals a day. As we took a little tour of one part of the line I noticed several crocodiles skulking just under the water’s surface, which was just a few inches below the tops of most of the bunkers.

We approached one bunker and the soldier sitting on duty there continued to focus on his left and right limits, even though his mental health must have been precarious. Sitting in a soggy uniform on top of his bunker in open in sight of the enemy, eating fewer meals than he was accustomed to, and wondering how long it would be before a crocodile ventured onto the top of a bunker in the darkness, and now comes a boat with the Division, Brigade and Battalion commanders escorting some foreigner that can barely speak Sinhala. I really pitied the poor soldier at that moment and thought…”man this really sucks for him.”

Wondering how he was coping with it all, I sympathized with him, through the Brigade Commander (I could understand a lot more Sinhala than I had vocabulary for) and asked if he thought things were bad. His face lit up and he beamed with happiness. “Oh no sir! Everything is wonderful. Since the waters have come up, the crocodiles are swimming around and eating all of the snakes!”

What an amazing attitude and what an amazing thing perspective is! This little moment in life taught me not to judge another person’s situation too quickly. When the tsunami hit Sri Lanka six weeks later, perspective and attitude became two of my biggest allies.