This is our village, and that of our parents. There used to be a small hut with a thatched roof here. After our son went to the army, we built this house. He went in 87. He was 19 plus years. At 19, he wasn't small. He was tall, muscular and handsome. He failed his exams, and so he said ' mother, there is no point studying, I want to join the Army. I want to build a house for you'. So we signed him up. After joining in 87, he first went to Ampara for training. After 3 months of training, he went to Kuruwita Camp. He came home from camp and said, I can't fight like this, staying awake in jungles. It was about 3 years after joining. It won't go away. He then joined the 'bicycle' team. He said that when you join the bike team, you don't get shot or killed because it is safer. He liked living on the edge. He was there for about 4 years, in the special forces. He became second in command of about 40 in the team. He was supposed to be promoted after the holidays. But he was awarded it posthumously. He was handsome...my heart aches still when I remember.