November 3, 2001

I had a few Sri Lankan beers and dinner by the sea tonight with King. He's a jovial 22- year-old Tamil guy, named by his father, an Anglican priest, for Martin Luther King Jr. He shares both MLK's wide features and his nonviolent convictions. Remarkable, considering that his whole life has been marred by the war here. His family had to flee Colombo for India when he was just three years old, during a terrible kind of pogrom. Sinhalese mobs killed around two thousand Tamils. King's house was burned during the riots.

King explained to me that the first question people ask when there is an LTTE (Tamil Tiger) bombing is, "How many killed?" Four or five barely generates a response. "The numbers have to be in the 60 to 70 range to generate even a raised eyebrow. This kind of thing is just the usual here, like no big deal."

King gave me a great tour of his neighborhood, which was a reminder that, despite the tensions and war here, this is hardly the former Yugoslavia. It was one of the most interesting and truly multicultural places I've ever been. On one block, there was a Buddhist temple, an incredibly ornate Hindu temple, three Christian churches and a mosque.

As the sun set on Colombo, various forms of chanting and religious observation emanated from all the houses of worship. Adding to the cacophony was the usual complement of whizzing three-wheeled taxis and rancor from a public bathhouse. I got great, intimate shots in both the sprawling Hindu temple and the Buddhist one.

I simply cupped my hands and bowed, took off my shoes, and started shooting.

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