Between 1991 and 1994, I traveled to Sri Lanka three times. When you travel solo, it’s almost inevitable that you’ll meet locals. On my second trip, I somehow found myself promoted to the role of prospective son-in-law.
Caught in the Rain—and the Family Web
One day, as I was taking a walk, I got caught in a sudden downpour—far from my hotel. I found myself in a small settlement on the edge of Bentota, a touristy town on Sri Lanka’s west coast. Suddenly, a door opened, and a woman beckoned me inside. Her entire family soon gathered to see who was wandering around in that torrential rain, all waving me in.
At that point, I had no idea this would make me a candidate for son-in-law.
Grateful for shelter, I accepted the invitation. Dozens of dark eyes stared at me as if I’d landed from another planet. They invited me to sit in the living room and served me a delicious Ceylon tea. Most of the family drifted away, but one of the beautiful young daughters, Depeeka, sat with me, smiling in silence.
The conversation was led by her assertive mother—very kind, but as I’d later learn, an absolute dragon when it came to matchmaking. We chatted about trivial things until the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. I thanked them for their hospitality and was about to leave, when they invited me back for dinner the next day. Of course, I said yes—I found them quite nice.
An Unexpected Dinner
The following evening, I returned, bringing spices and tea from the local market as a gift (a hotel staffer advised me what to bring). The family was already waiting. They offered me a seat at a big dining table, and an array of curries filled the air with the scent of exotic spices. But nobody else sat down to eat.
Instead, the family formed a semi-circle around the table to watch me eat. What was this? I refused to eat alone, and they said it was tradition. I replied that, in my country, it’s tradition not to eat alone when others are present. We compromised: at least Depeeka could sit with me and eat.
But that wasn’t all. While the family turned away, Depeeka started playing footsie with me under the table. I was surprised, but not entirely opposed—something that would later prove to be a mistake. At 24, you don’t always think about consequences.
We exchanged addresses to keep in touch, and they proudly showed me the family album—especially pictures of their sons-in-law from Britain and Sweden.
Dowries, Daughters, and Desperation
They shared the heavy burden families in Sri Lanka face, especially those with many daughters. Like in India, a bride’s family is expected to provide a hefty dowry. My hosts had five daughters and only one son. The fourth daughter’s wedding was coming up—another expensive affair. Depeeka was the youngest, and the girls can’t just go out and find a husband. Usually, mothers hunt for a suitable groom—someone wealthy, someone who doesn’t demand a huge dowry, or best of all, a foreigner. With a foreigner, you can often skip the dowry altogether.
The next day, I left.
Letters from Sri Lanka
Soon after, a letter arrived—perfect English, signed by Depeeka, but clearly written by her mother. She asked when I’d return and, not so subtly, mentioned multiple times that the television was broken. More letters followed, always referencing the broken TV. They even offered me the guest room to rent cheaply if I visited again.
I planned another trip, but this time, I stayed at my usual hotel, only promising a visit.
Third Trip—And a Plot Twist
At Munich airport, I met a young nurse from Augsburg. We agreed to meet in Sri Lanka for a little island tour, since I had good contacts there. Her hotel was 30km from mine, so she needed a place to stay before our three-day trip. My hotel was full—and too expensive for her anyway—so I suggested she rent the guest room at Depeeka’s family’s house.
The family welcomed me like an old friend and my travel companion as well. The next morning, I picked her up. She looked exhausted. On the way to my hotel, she confessed: Depeeka’s mother had kept her up all night, talking about marrying me to Depeeka. As if that weren’t enough, she’d been attacked by bedbugs.
I was shocked and explained to her what had really happened the year before.
Time for Some Truth
After our tour, I returned to the family to confront the mother. I told her I’d never promised marriage, nor had anything happened between Depeeka and me. If she was looking for a husband for her daughter, I wasn’t available. There was a good-looking bartender at my hotel, I suggested. “No,” said the mother, “he’s Christian” (so they knew him). I replied, “But I’m Christian too.” “That’s different,” she said. “You’re German.”
This answer really irked me. They clearly preferred a foreigner as a son-in-law to save on the dowry.
I told Depeeka and her mother that, even if I married her, my landlord didn’t like foreigners and we’d lose our apartment in Germany. Plus, xenophobia isn’t uncommon, I exaggerated wildly. None of this fazed them. Only when I said Depeeka would have to work if she came to Germany did they look truly shocked.
The (Almost) Son-in-Law—A Full Circle Moment
In the end, things could have turned out very differently. If Depeeka’s mother hadn’t put so much pressure on me, maybe something would have developed between us, and the family would have gotten their German son-in-law after all. I genuinely hope Depeeka found happiness—hopefully on her own terms, and not just for her mother’s sake.
Funny enough, last September, Lizz and I actually returned to Sri Lanka and stayed right in the heart of Bentota. I tried to retrace my steps and find that little settlement where the family once lived, but nothing looked familiar anymore. Maybe the area has changed, or maybe my memories have faded with time. Still, it was fun to reminisce and share these stories with Lizz, laughing about how I almost became someone’s dowry loophole. Life has a way of coming full circle, and while the past can sometimes feel like another lifetime, the memories—and the lessons—definitely stick with you.
Have you ever almost been “adopted” by a local family on your travels? Any wild stories of unexpected hospitality (or matchmaking)? Share your adventures below!
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That’s such an interesting and eye-opening story — thank you for sharing it! One thing that keeps me wondering is why people would choose to have so many children if they’re already struggling to provide for them. I know deeply rooted traditions like dowry or expectations around family size are hard to change, but it still puzzles me why someone would knowingly add to their burden.
Thank you so much for reading and for your thoughtful comment! That’s a really good question, and it’s something I’ve wondered about too—especially after seeing firsthand the challenges families face in places like Sri Lanka.
I think it’s a mix of cultural, religious, and practical reasons. In many traditional societies, having a big family was (and sometimes still is) seen as a blessing and a form of security. More children meant more hands to help with work, and in some cases, a kind of “insurance” for old age, since social safety nets are limited. There’s also a strong social expectation, and sometimes pressure, to have a certain number of children—plus, as you mentioned, long-standing traditions like dowries (which unfortunately often make having daughters more financially stressful).
Change is definitely happening, especially as access to education and economic opportunities improve, but these shifts can take generations. I agree, though, it’s a complex issue—and seeing it up close really puts things in perspective. Thanks again for engaging with the story and for raising such an important point!