My Washington DC story

In Washington DC, 1984

In 1984, I was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship for graduate study in the USA. I was in my mid-thirties at the time, and had been teaching English in the Sultanate of Oman for three years, having previously taught in Sri Lankan schools and a university for more than 10 years.

I was admitted to the American University (AU) in Washington, DC for a masters in Linguistics. Having been an avid reader of the Readers' Digest since I was 11, and other free publications distributed by the US Information Service in Sri Lanka (a now defunct magazine called Free World and a magazine for English teachers, Forum, which is still in publication), I was steeped in the American lifestyle. I felt fortunate to be in the capital city, instead of being assigned to a school in a lesser known area.

The American University was an expensive private school, attended mainly by the spoilt children of the rich and the offspring of diplomats. I could never have gone there without the scholarship. The presence of students from more than 100 countries brought a rich tapestry of colors and languages to campus, an experience rare at other universities.


The American University, Washington DC
I arrived a week after classes had begun and was fortunate to find the last place on the sixth floor in a co-ed dorm. I was the oldest resident, one of only two graduate students among mainly freshman undergraduates, who were away from home for the first time and out to have fun. I shared a large room with six other students, one of whom happened to be the President of the university's Gay and Lesbian Association. For someone coming from Sri Lanka, where homosexual practices were frowned upon, this was a novel experience to say the least. Gary was a friendly person whose preoccupation certainly wasn't his studies. His phone would ring continuously from 6pm onwards, visitors would drop by for loud chats and laughter, and, most mornings, his bed would be occupied by a beautiful young woman. (I never managed to understand this phenomenon.) The hormone levels in the dorm were sky high and the sound of running feet and banging doors could be heard at all hours as young men and women chased each other. The result was that I had no sleep for almost two weeks. This was finally solved when I began reading a book by Henry Widdowson, a household name in applied linguistics.) Half way through the book, I fell asleep for 12 hours straight!

I had complained about the noise and the lack of sleep and was given the choice of moving to an apartment complex that the university was leasing. The only problem was that I would have to find a roommate because I couldn't afford the high rent. A couple of days earlier, an Indian student had been complaining to me about his roommate and the need to find a new place. I soon found him in the library and he agreed to become my roommate. That's how Govindan Parayil and I became friends.

The apartment complex was at the corner of Wisconsin Avenue and Van Dyke, a 10 minute walk from campus, uptown from the Washington Cathedral which was still under construction, and only a bus ride from the great Museums and the Washington Mall. We had an apartment on the seventh floor, surrounded by elderly, long time residents of the complex as well as students. Sidwell Friends School, which President Obama's children attend, was right next door, and in those carefree, less-security obsessed days, I used to jog on their running track. (The complex appears to have been torn down. I believe the Embassy of Taiwan now stands where it used to be.) When the leaves of the surrounding trees fell during autumn, we could see the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Congress Building all lit up at night. For someone who grew up in Sri Lanka, the sight was magical.

Soon, our apartment became a favorite rendezvous for friends and classmates, who came for a chat and a taste of Govindan's splendid meals. Most of my classmates were international students, and some were Fulbright scholars like me. I recall Janeth Hernandez from Bolivia, Selina Mohsin from Bangladesh, Gunawan from Indonesia, a Smith from Zimbabwe, Mala Somasunderam from Malaysia, and Xiumin Huang from China. Xiumin was the first Mainland Chinese student in our program and soon transferred to Computer Science, but we remained friends because she rented an apartment in the same complex.

Lectures were in the evening because most students were part-timers, so I had the whole day to myself. I soon got a job in the university library at the minimum wage. I was asked to shelve bound magazines and books in the library's basement. These bound volumes were very heavy but I had an Indian student named Arun to work with, and he was an easy going, happy guy whose good humour made the work much easier. At the end of one year, I was given a pay raise of .05 cents per hour!


With Govindan, at the National Cemetery in Arlington. 1985

I also had a host family. Myra (Mike) Schlesinger had worked at the US Embassy in Colombo in the 1950s, and she and her husband, the famed CBC announcer Joe Schlesinger, welcomed me to their beautiful home on Loughboro Road just a few minutes walk from the campus.

Looking back, the three semesters I spent at the American University were probably the happiest years of my life. For me, the studies were a breeze. The Museums (the Air and Space Museum was my favorite) were all free. Life before e-mail, the Internet, and cell phones seemed fuller. The neighborhood where we lived were residential and safe at any time. On my walk to campus, I would be passing tress heavy with cherry blossoms in the summer, and with icicles in the winter. The Sunday ritual was to attend mass at the university chapel with Marceline Hepie, a flamboyant friend from the Ivory Coast. Despite all my efforts, searching on the Internet and the occasional Ivorian I meet, I have not been able to connect with him.

Among my American classmates, Bim Schauffler and Ellen Stucker were the closest to us, and I still keep in touch with Ellen. They were both serious students, having to pay tuition from their earnings. Among the internationals, Mala was the exception. The daughter of a Malaysian diplomat, she lived a style quite different from the rest of us. Once, she gave me a gold plated toothbrush as a Christmas gift! Her ambition was to marry a millionaire and lead a life a leisure, which she accomplished in style: she visited me in Hong Kong about ten years ago, traveling from Malaysia where she lives, and even her nanny traveled first class. Recently, I found Selina through the Net, and she is now the High Commissioner (Ambassador) for Bangladesh in the Maldives. Xiumin never returned to China; she married Scott Overall, a lawyer, and now lives in Maryland.

I left AU at the end of 1985 to begin doctoral studies at the University of Pennsylvania. But, when Fawzia began to work in the DC area in the late 1990s and bought a house in Maryland, my ties to the area were renewed. Our son Ry lives there now, so my visits to the DC area will continue. AU has invited me back for their summer workshops twice, when the MA TESOL Program there began an Alumni Association, I was invited to be the first President.

Perhaps the most enduring friendship from my AU days has been that with Govindan. In fact, my decision to take-up a position in Hong Kong due to his encouragement (he already had a job at HKUST), and we have remained good friends. I was the Bestman at his wedding and the Godfather of his son. Govind is now the Vice-Rector at the United Nations University in Tokyo and stopped by for a visit a couple of weeks ago.


Govindan at the Bistro, HKUST, February 2009