by 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 Near Bentota
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.
I accepted the shelter gratefully. The family gathered around, curious about their unexpected visitor, and offered me tea. Eventually most of them drifted away, leaving me with the mother and her youngest daughter, Depeeka.
Her mother led the conversation, friendly and interested. When the rain stopped, I thanked them and prepared to leave. They invited me back for dinner the next evening. I liked them and accepted.
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.
The family stood around the table while I was expected to eat. They explained that this was their custom; I explained that eating alone while everybody watched made me uncomfortable. Eventually we found a compromise: Depeeka sat down and ate with me. It was my first indication that the evening might require more interpretation than the menu.
Under the table, Depeeka began playing footsie with me. I was surprised and not entirely opposed. I was 24, and clearly better prepared to enjoy the attention than to consider whether we were reading the situation in the same way.
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.
What the Family Told Me About Marriage
My hosts talked about the expense of weddings and dowries in their own family. They had five daughters and a son; another daughter’s wedding was approaching. I came to understand that a foreign husband for Depeeka might be an appealing prospect to them.
That was my interpretation of this particular household in the early 1990s. It was not a complete account of marriage customs across Sri Lanka, and it would be unfair to suggest that every daughter, mother or family had the same expectations. The difficulty here was much more immediate: I had accepted dinner, while they seemed to be imagining a possible marriage.
The next day, I left.
Letters from Sri Lanka
Letters followed after I left, signed by Depeeka and written in fluent English. I suspected her mother was involved, although I could not know who had composed each letter. The broken television received repeated mentions, and the family offered me a cheap room if I returned. I did not take up the accommodation offer for myself.
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 us, and my travel companion stayed in their guest room before our short island tour. When I collected her the next morning, she said she had spent much of the night hearing about the plan to marry me to Depeeka. She also reported bedbugs. This was not quite the restful stop I had intended to arrange.
I explained the earlier visit and the letters. Until then I had not properly understood how far the family’s expectations had developed.
Making My Position Clear
After our tour I returned to explain that I had not promised marriage and was not available as a husband. I mentioned a bartender from my hotel as someone they might consider instead. Her mother rejected the idea because he was Christian. When I pointed out that I was Christian too, she said that was different because I was German. That is the exchange as I remember it; it has stayed with me ever since.
It left me feeling that my nationality mattered more in the discussion than the personal compatibility of two people. I could not settle the family’s plans, but I needed to stop leaving room for assumptions about mine.
I also tried talking my way out of the situation with an exaggerated, uninviting picture of life in Germany: an unwelcoming landlord, the difficulties she might face and the expectation that she would need to work. Those were excuses in an awkward conversation, not a reliable description of what Depeeka’s life would have been. A straightforward refusal would have been clearer.
The (Almost) Son-in-Law—A Full Circle Moment
There had been friendliness and some mutual attraction, but the expectations around them had become far larger than anything I intended. I hope Depeeka found happiness on her own terms. I cannot know what happened after our contact ended.
Much later, Lizz and I returned to Bentota. I tried to find the little settlement, but nothing looked familiar enough to be certain. Places change, and memories do not come with street coordinates. I could still tell Lizz the story of the rainstorm that had nearly promoted me from guest to prospective son-in-law.
The lesson was not to refuse hospitality. It was to be clearer when a friendly encounter began to carry expectations I did not share. Have you ever had a travel misunderstanding that grew far beyond the original invitation?
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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!