Chinaman

by Shehan Karunatilaka

W.G. I wish I was known by my initials. Like F.C. de Saram and C.I. Gunasekera, Lanka’s first great batsmen. Or D.S. de Silva, Lanka’s last great spinner. Like T.S. Eliot. D.H. Lawrence. Even O.J. Simpson. My name is Wijedasa Gamini Karunasena. My mother and sister call me Sudu; my three brothers no longer call me. Strangers call me Karunasena; friends call me Wije. My wife calls me Gamini dear when she wants money and unprintable things when I don’t give it to her. But, regrettably and unfortunately, no one calls me by my initials. If they did, I would share my name with the greatest cricketer of the nineteenth century, Dr W.G. Grace, undoubtedly the game’s first hero, and perhaps, something of an arse. ‘They came to see me bat, not to watch you umpire.’ It’s an old joke. Sobers never was sober. W.G. did not have any grace.