Located strategically in the Indian Ocean, Sri Lanka was a hub in the maritime silk and spice routes for millennia. It drew traders from the East and West for both business and pleasure. Notable among the attractions were spices – their many aromas and flavours forming part of the tropical-paradise experience. The traditional Lankan curry contained up to 13 spices and herbs. Most plants were not native – cardamom came from South India, cloves from Indonesia and chilli all the way from the Americas. Cinnamon was Sri Lanka's unique contribution to this delightful mix. The origins did not really matter: the islanders knew just how to mix the native and the foreign to achieve legendary results.
It is worth recalling these aspects of Sri Lanka's heritage as the country embarks on national integration and reconciliation after three decades of war. For the war not only devastated the economy and blighted the prospects of a generation; it also nurtured high levels of insecurity, insularity and mutual suspicion. Dissent came to be considered decidedly unpatriotic and everything foreign was suspect – especially if it emanated from the Western world. Today, it seems the spice island of lore is in danger of turning into a 'bland' nation, with xenophobia the only condiment in use.
Paradoxically, Sri Lanka is today more closely linked to the rest of the world than ever before. Geography is still a strong part of our destiny, with more than a fair share of global shipping passing through our ports. With no land from the island's southern tip all the way to Antarctica, the shipping lanes have little choice. Some vessels bring what Sri Lankans cannot produce on their own; others carry away Lankan tea, rubber and other exports.
But Sri Lanka is no longer just a seller of produce. It now actively markets hospitality, dexterity and genius. In the wake of peace, the travel industry hopes to attract half a million tourists a year. One out of every 20 Lankans is working overseas, remitting billions of dollars that keep the island economy afloat. Partly fuelled by the diaspora, thousands of voice calls and terabytes of data are flowing in and out of the island, every day and night. This enhanced connectivity is only a decade old, but already it is taken for granted – except when an undersea fibre-optic cable snaps, as happened in early 2008.