Lessons From Myanmar
Mingalaba from Myanmar! The ship timed its entry perfectly; based on the tides as we used the rivers tide to push us forward past the lush green shoreline on both sides. I entered Myanmar with only the knowledge we had been taught in our classes leading us to the country. I had no itinerary other than getting myself to Inle Lake. We had been told that we were entering a country with an ethnic cleansing taking place in the Rohingya State. This would not affect us as we were not the targeted minority nor were we permitted to travel into the area. The countries chaos soon reflected on my travel.
As I planned multiple times to travel to Inle Lake, time and time again a roadblock was presented. Each time I tried to hurdle over these roadblocks another would present itself, telling me to stay put. Staying put is what I did as I slowed down to the local pace of life. I walked the towns streets alongside monks dressed in orange and nuns in pink. I took in the smells of street food varying from fresh cut fruit to fried grasshoppers. I watched as men spit red beet root on the sidewalk. I removed my shoes and entered gold pagodas filled with burning incense, praying people, and hundreds of Buddha statues. As most locals eat rice and curry for each meal and KFC as a splurge, I decided to become a regular at a small brunch restaurant that infused western classics with Myanmar flair. I spent time here drinking tea and reflecting on the voyage thus far.
I watched morning routines from a bus window as I made the long ride through the rural countryside to the bustling city each day. Fish were set out to dry on the thatched roofs of small bamboo stilt homes. Colorful small plastic furniture was set up for tea drinking. Some children started games early, some walked to school, and others were under the houses sorting trash and collecting fish. The small houses acted as shop stalls during the day, some selling tea others selling fried snacks. At night when the last round of feet volleyball (a traditional game played frequently) was over and the shops closed, the families walked to nearby villages or stayed in their shops. As the road meandered closer to town, the traffic grew and the sidewalks were packed tight and busses even tighter of children going to school, adults to work. The tea shops grew bigger with more colorful Fu that resembled children’s furniture. At night these open air shops were crowded with guests watching three small televisions.
Mid stay, I attended a local primary school which serves to the children of the poor surrounding area and an onsite orphanage. Upon arrival to the third grade class, they showed off their English as they sung the alphabet. The classroom filled with pride as the children rose to their feet to sing their countries anthem. As far as English, the alphabet was all we shared. Although, as we played yard games together we realized we both spoke laughter, smiles, and play. I quickly noticed I had two shy young boys following me and peering over the window ledge as I watched a class game. I turned my attention to them and we chatted by the use of body language, hand gestures, and finger drawings. Soon we were singing the alphabet together through the open window; all while I signed the letter.
As our time came to a close, the country decided it had another lesson to throw at us. Any previous thought of invisibility was washed away as the student body learned of a fellow shipmate and friend had passed away while in country. We spent our last day honoring her adventurous spirit, before coming together as a family on ship. We filled the union with silence to hear the news. For the first time on board, a presentation ended with tears rather than applause. We comforted one another as we waited for the tide to rise to send us back the way we came… with the blowing of the horn.
Kyay Zoo,
