mingalaba

It’s amazing how just a couple days or even a couple hours can do so much to change a person. Sights are seen, smiles are shared, memories are made. That is how Myanmar went for me. Everyone we passed on the streets was curious about us, but in such a friendly way. They’d smile, wave, and greet us all “hallo! mingalaba!” I was lucky enough to go on a trip that allowed us to meet kids at a small local school. We left the hotel in two rather sketchy buses (rusty exteriors, stained creaky seats, dirt everywhere) and traveled for at least half an hour down a bumpy dirty road. When we arrived at the village all the students were waiting to greet us in their green and white traditional uniforms.

The school consisted of an open courtyard area with open pavilions on one side for shade and an eating area. Buildings surrounding the courtyard held various classrooms. Our group was encouraged to draw, sing, and play with all the students. I did a lot of drawing myself. I would do my best to procure different animals and most of the students were able to say the English name. Then I would ask them to write their word in Burmese. One girl I worked with gave me her green and white hair ribbon. I took pictures with her. Boys outside played a game just like hackeysack, except the ball was the size of a kid’s soccer ball, hollow, and made with woven grasses. It was surprisingly heavy, but the kids used it just like the knitted sacks in the states.

Some of our SAS group had the opportunity to help the adults cook lunch for the students. I thought it was too hot to be anywhere near a fire, but I was eager to try the results. The students sat at low tables. They all waited to eat until we all got food. The kitchen area had a large pot full of chicken stew, another smaller one with something fishy. There was a giant bucket of rice. I opted for the rice and a bit of chicken. I saw the cooking women add about a pound of peppers to something, I passed on that. The meal was very good. We used spoons, but many of the kids used their fingers as well. I sat with some girls who seemed about ten. They spoke no English, but I think I managed to compliment one on her earrings. Soon after the meal our group made our way back to our buses with many of the local kids following. It was a difficult goodbye.

I was lucky enough to have another opportunity to spend the morning with kids. Though that experience was way different than the first. I signed up for a SAS program called a noviciation ceremony. The description included a brief recounting of a story of Buddha, how there was a prince who spent his entire life in his grand palace, not seeing the outside world and the suffering of the people until he was over thirty. It’s said he quickly renounced his secluded royal life style in favor of one more equal and helpful to the people and thus became Buddha. Young boys today go through a celebration to initiate themselves into monkhood. We saw four young boys all dressed like princes, riding horses and being carried on decorated platforms by others. We got to be part of the grand parade. I carried a plant, others carried flags, food, and other goods. There was music and dancers. We really didn’t know what to expect in our small group of foreigners. We just joined the crowd of a hundred or more people…and had a fabulous time. So much of that seemed so…old, a time honored tradition. But walking down the street near the monastery we passed people talking on cell phones, cars driving around, not to mention our group documenting the scene with pictures.

After the parade we were welcomed into the main room of the monastery by nuns young and old. The nuns were quiet, dressed in pale pink robes, and all had shaved heads. We took off our shoes, accepted cold juices, and found seats at tables and on the floor. The young boys changed their clothes out of the finery they’d worn moments before. They washed their faces and had their heads shaved. I am not sure what to call the man they brought to a chair in front of the boys, but he was elderly and in monk’s robes, definitely a leader within that community. He recited several chants and the boys repeated his words. I thought that would continue for longer than it did, but soon their chanting stopped and a nun brought the boys some cold sodas. Then the guide for our group announced that the boys would turn for photos, and that we could pose with them if we wanted. I am glad for the opportunity the others had, but personally I found that to be a bit disrespectful and declined. It was such a serious occasion. I thought for a while that it was a bit unfortunate that these boys weren’t acting like boys, the oldest once couldn’t have been more than nine. Well, perhaps it was only for that day.

What was most memorable about that day at the monastery was what happened after the ceremony was completed. We learned a bit about the daily life of these particular monks. They had certain rules to follow about how to act, to eat, to work. We were shown to a hallway with different stations set up with food prepared for the monks. So many of those men in robes walked past with their pots, accepting food from locals and from our group. So many walked past that my attention did start to wander…and I noticed two young boys in normal clothes (not robes) pointing towards me and giggling. When I looked their way, one dashed out of sight. I decided to investigate. That particular boy and I had that keep away game going for an hour. Many other kids, yet all of them boys, came over to interact with me too. We didn’t communicate much. I would try to say whatever they said. We made faces and shapes with our hands. I taught them the English words for different parts of the face. They had fantastic memories. One offered me some sunflower seeds. Another gave me a small package of condensed milk, apparently a treat for them. I slipped it subtly into the pocket of another boy. I asked one of the teenaged monks if he could take a picture for us. Thirteen boys joined me in it. I did not realize until later that the boy who started it all, the one who played stay away, was in the picture too, behind everyone else. I am so glad he is.

But the luck and joy I experienced in Myanmar did not end there. Not with the amazing people (especially children) I met, not with the delicious food I ate, not even with the luxurious hotel we stayed in the most charming traditional Burmese town right along Ngwe Saung Beach, did my wonderful experiences end with. While I could easily say that my time with the young boys at the monastery will be my most favored memory from Myanmar, it does not rest there alone. Right along side it in my head and my heart lie my recollections of my first up close and personal interaction with an Asian elephant. Her name was Zue an Lun and I was lucky enough to be last in line at the elephant mounting station and able to join to of my classmates on a short trek on her back through the jungle. She had a wooden contraption on her back that riders were meant to sit in. The handler rode in front, straddling her neck. Don’t worry, she was more than strong enough to handle all of us. I sat behind the handler, astride just behind her shoulders. Technically I was in the contraption too, but at first it didn’t feel like it. Elephants are big enough that as they step, your whole body sways from side to side, as opposed to just your hips when you ride astride a horse. Elephant riding, at least in that position, is very relaxing.

The area we rode through was just beautiful. I was able to reflect on that natural beauty as well as on how quiet it was, no sounds but the occasional camera click, the calling of the birds, and to quiet singing of our handler. Well, our group all rode in a line and naturally called to one another from various elephant backs, but it was easy to tune that out. Elephants are truly fantastic creatures. I have never seen such powerful, graceful, yet gentle animals. Of course they are capable of being anything but gentle too. Yet that day, nothing could (and nothing did) go wrong. The ride ended and, as I have so often felt when dismounting horses, I did not want to get off. Saying goodbye was even harder, but thankfully that did not happen for a while. After the ride we had the option of feeding the elephants some sugar cane (it’s amazing the way they can crunch that stuff, it is about the consistency of a bamboo rod) and of course to take more pictures. While elephants are definitely beautiful, their trunks are really weird. Fantastic, but weird. The can curve and bend any way they want. It is like an octopus arm or something. When I took a couple photos near Zue an Lun’s head, I was a bit nervous over what just might do with that trunk.

All she did was reach for the sugar cane that was being handed out. I could see the look in her eyes, it truly was so kind and wise. I really can’t explain it better than that. My first elephant experience, I will never, ever forget. I highly recommend that if the opportunity should ever arise, elephant interactions should definitely happen to everyone. Believe it or not, elephants now have just as much a place in my heart as horses do. And for me, that is saying something. While elephants may not be a feasible aspect of my life (as I plan to make horses be) they are most absolutely a treasured part of my memories.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Myanmar.