Decoding ‘Sri Lankan-ness’ through everyday experiences

The other day I was waiting to park my car at a supermarket. While I waited (im)patiently for a driver to reverse his car out of the parking space I was eyeing, a tuk from out of nowhere, barged in through the widening gap and grabbed my parking spot. The driver then jumped out and ran towards the back of the supermarket. I was furious because I had to sit impotently behind my steering wheel, waiting for someone else to vacate a space. But it was 9 p.m. I understood the reasons for his behaviour. 

My mind was bugging me with a question while I shopped. ‘Why are these tuk tuk drivers so different from us?’ As I headed back afterwards, I reframed that question. Are they really that different from us? Don’t we have much more in common than our differences? This gave me an idea. If I decode the culture of tuk tuks and tuk tuk drivers, what could it possibly say about us as a nation? What can we learn about ourselves through these tuk tuk drivers? After all, they too are a vibrant part of our culture. 

Culture can be considered the software of its country. Its citizenry are both the creators of this software, as well as those who are controlled by it. Our culture tells us not only where we come from, but also where we are right now and where we are headed in that journey. It spells out what it means to be Sri Lankan, our way of doing things and the values that make us who we are. The codes of our culture are embedded into our lives both consciously and subconsciously, updated by new ideas and thoughts, technological progress and other dominant social narratives. Because these cultural codes are mostly buried in our subconscious, the information about them is not readily accessible to us. 

These codes reveal the deep-seated beliefs, ideas, ironies, contradictions, quirks and pet peeves of a nation. But these codes need to be unearthed first, and then decoded, for us to have insight into making sense of the way we live our lives. Applications of cultural insight are endless. In business, understanding culture is critical. Because, a company’s ability to connect with people depends on its understanding of their culture. In this article, I will explore how tuk culture can shed insight into seemingly unconnected areas, such as how we approach social change, the way we work and even our parenting styles.

A powerful cultural symbol of self-reliance

A worthy question is why many people want to become tuk drivers. Considering the sheer number of tuk drivers, it appears to be the de-facto national employment policy. When decoded, the answers become obvious. Driving a tuk is a powerful cultural symbol of self-reliance. On the one hand, he is an entrepreneur on wheels, looking for side hustles as he moves through the urban maze. On the other hand, it’s a man’s search for a shortcut to exert control over his life and enjoy greater autonomy. 

He decides his schedule, and also decides to enjoy a noon nap after his ‘bath’ packet. He presents himself sans office attire, restrictions or inhibitions and similarly, personalises his tuk’s dashboard and rear as an extension to the cabinet in his living room, exhibiting his personality to all and sundry. This level of autonomy and self-reliance turns many green with envy even in the corporate sector. 

This autonomy is a powerful motivator, enticing many into riding tuks despite the many limitations such as the inability to apply for loans, financial security in old age and other benefits. It also says a lot about our desired work ethic. Clearly, many people view the structured work environment not as an enabler of productivity but as a lack of freedom. Our mindset is very different from that of the Germans or even the nouveau riche Chinese. A lot of rural adolescent males as well, choose to become tuk drivers once they leave school, if their first option of a Government post does not come their way. There are multiple reasons besides autonomy, for this behaviour. Being a tuk driver in a village comes with a level of territorial authority. Tuk drivers tend to know all the key information about people and places. They can hook you up quickly with the right connection for all sorts of activities. Another factor is the lack of employment opportunities that guarantee the level of freedom a tuk driver enjoys. 

But here’s something that might surprise you and it has got to do with the parenting style of rural folk. Rural parents, especially the mothers, tend to keep a close tab on their sons’ whereabouts and whoever they hang out with. There are rules to follow and getting a tuk is the easiest get out of the jail card. Compare this with a 9-5 job. There is no excuse to be out at night throughout the week. Driving a tuk earns you that right away.  

If a lower middle-class man turns into a vehicle, it would not be a muscular car or a motor bike but a tuk for sure. Because having a tuk tells a different story. It fuels your livelihood, doubles as the family vehicle plus a goods carrier, all of which can be achieved very economically with a tuk. This level of versatility and flexibility comes as a sense of greater empowerment to a group of people who perceive themselves as the underdogs victimised by the social class and the economic and educational disparity that exists in society. When armed with a tuk, no matter how small it is, you can always find a way to be needed.  

Tuks also shed great insight into the way we think as a nation. The road is always a race in which the small man outsmarts the big man and his big machines. Should there be an accident, a tuk is preferred to transport the injured as fast as possible, due to its sheer agility and availability. Charms of smallness is something that we readily buy into as a nation. A tuk simply reinforces that notion, may be because we are convinced that we are indeed ‘small’ in the grand scheme of things at a global level. 

The ‘self-reliant small man’

The combination of these factors has given rise to the ‘self-reliant small man’ or the ‘Podi Miniha’. Their mastery of using this ‘smallness’ identity as a bargaining chip for sympathy, excuses and little mercies and other entitlements has filtered down to the entire country.  We don’t necessarily see ‘small’ as a problem. Instead, it gives us an outside chance to beat the odds of big structures, systems and resources. Compare this with Singapore. It’s smaller than the size of Colombo city but the Singaporeans are culturally conditioned to think ‘big’ to compensate for their smallness whereas we are culturally wired to adjust our ambitions to suit our size.  

A ‘self-reliant small man’ mindset alone can’t make tuk tuks so widespread in our country. It has also to meet with an opportunity. There’s plenty of space on our roads for tuks considering many limitations in the public transportation systems and infrastructure. Our public transportation system has not been overhauled to suit the aspirations of our people or the times. A person taking public transport can’t predict the arrival time at the destination. A three-hour waiting charge at a paid car park, that is if you can find one, can easily fund the tuk ride back and forth to the same place. These are real problems that require urgent attention but always go unnoticed. 

Many of us take a tuk ride not as a luxury but as a necessity to have a dignified commute compensating for the national shortcomings. However, tuks do become a small luxury if you are paying for some personal space and privacy. As the slightest public display of affection is frowned upon here, most couples travel by tuks. In there, they can be a bit more intimate with each other. Our culture expects us to be on our best behaviour in public. We are programmed to think about the other person first, then about us. For example, talking loud in a bus is considered violating the code unless you are visibly old, even though the bus speakers are blasting music at their maximum volume. 

All of us complain about the way tuk tuk drivers go about their business, yet we fuel their behaviour every time we board a tuk tuk. We expect tuk drivers to creep through every nook and cranny, violating all the road rules, even endangering our lives, to compensate for our general tardiness and get us to our destination immediately. These double standards are not limited to our relationship with tuk tuk rides alone. It’s well reflected in our politics, national unity, work ethic and many other aspects of life that we all complain about. In a nutshell, we want change. But when it’s our turn to make the change possible, we slip up. We want the rainbow, yet we are totally unwilling to put up with the rain. 

The ultimate endorsement for tuks as a symbol of the Sri Lankan culture is an imported one. Foreigners renting and riding tuks as an authentic local experience while holidaying in Sri Lanka makes any one of us proud. While the majority of people see tuks as a cancer on the roads causing congestion, blood boiling, and at times blood spilling, we recognise the value of their approval rather than what they really approve of, be it even from a hippie type tourist. This is no small feat, because as a country, external validation is important to us. We do not value what we have, and we don’t even know what we are good at, unless outsiders take notice and applaud us with their gesture of approval. 

I have merely scratched the surface of the tuk culture in this piece. There’s much more that could be decoded about us by understanding tuk drivers and their ways. In fact, you could actually take any cultural symbol and dig deeper and understand our ways as a nation. I assure you that it will be a rewarding exercise. 

(The writer is the Chief Strategy Officer of DentsuGrant. He is fiercely passionate about all things Sri Lankan – the people, culture and local brands.)