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The Golden Land

Page 32

by Di Morrissey


  ‘Please tell them that Mi Mi speaks to her children about their grandparents all the time and hopes that someday they can come and visit.’ She reached into her bag and took out the envelope that Mi Mi had given her. Then she quickly reached for her own money, took out three hundred dollars and added it to Mi Mi’s envelope. I don’t need to buy many presents to take home. Helping Mi Mi’s parents is the best present I can give, she thought.

  She passed them the money. When Tun Oo and Thet Wai saw how much Natalie was giving them, their faces became wreathed in smiles, and they thanked her humbly and profusely.

  ‘They are thanking you for your kind gift. This money will help them for some time,’ said Mr P. ‘They wish to thank their daughter for her kindness.’

  Natalie nodded, thinking how inadequate it was, but pleased that she had found out the true state of things so that she could tell Mi Mi.

  Mi Mi’s father spoke again. ‘Perhaps one day our grandchildren can visit, but it is not yet that time. We have to wait, just as The Lady has to wait.’

  ‘You are very patient. How do you live here? What do you do?’ asked Natalie, trying to take it all in so that she could tell Mi Mi.

  ‘We are simple people,’ replied Thet Wai. ‘We grow our food and trade for what we need. We support Sister Tin Tin Pe, who is the abbess of a nunnery here. There are many nunneries in Sagaing, but Daw Tin Tin Pe is very strong.’

  Mr P asked Tun Oo some questions and then, looking rather impressed, said to Natalie, ‘These are good people indeed. They assist the work of this senior nun by giving whatever they can in money or food. Sister Tin Tin Pe is a reformist nun who is trying to restore the equality of nuns with the monks.’

  ‘Is this what you and U Watt were explaining to me in the bookshop?’

  ‘That’s right. Most of the nuns of Burma want to become fully ordained religious leaders again, and Mi Mi’s parents are supporting one of the most active nuns in the country.’

  ‘Mi Mi will be very proud and pleased about her parents’ efforts,’ said Natalie.

  Mr P translated and the couple smiled and nodded.

  ‘Their hearts are very generous,’ said Mr P. ‘They are asking how long you will be staying in Sagaing. They would like to show you around. They suggest that you might like to stay at their friend’s nunnery rather than return to Mandalay tonight. Would you like to do that? It would be quite an experience for you.’

  ‘I would be very happy to spend some time with them,’ said Natalie. ‘And whatever you say I’ll go along with. But there will not be any problems for them being seen with a foreigner, will there? If it’s not too much trouble for the nuns, I’d love to stay in a nunnery. It will be something to tell everyone about back at home,’ she said.

  ‘Travellers often stay at the monasteries and nunneries in Sagaing. It is a place for meditation and retreats. Mi Mi’s parents will be fine. They are simply a devout couple showing us around.’

  ‘Great! This place has such a special feeling. And I’d like to spend some time with Mi Mi’s parents.’

  ‘I’ll take lots of photographs of you all together,’ said Mr P.

  ‘Where will you stay, Mr P?’

  ‘I’ll stay at a monastery nearby. Our driver can stay there, too.’

  They all wandered along the leafy narrow streets that wound up the hill from Thet Wai and Tun Oo’s home. Sung Oo, Mi Mi’s uncle, also joined them for the tour of Sagaing. There were many large and famous pagodas to visit, but what made Natalie happiest was seeing the places that were the favourites of Mi Mi’s relatives.

  Inside one cool quiet pagoda, Mr P and Mi Mi’s parents knelt quietly to pray while Natalie walked through a corridor, admiring the carvings and fading frescoes of scenes from Buddha’s life. In an alcove before a figure of Lord Buddha that glowed from the limpid gold pressed into his cold stone skin, a mother and child knelt to pray. The woman was young and the little girl perhaps Adam’s age. Together they lifted up loops of small white flowers and held them towards the silent figure in the shrine. It was a devout but simple gesture, and Natalie thought again about the uncomplicated devotion of these gentle Buddhist worshippers. People quietly observed their duties, oblivious to passing strangers.

  They went to a small village where Natalie watched some silversmiths working, beating out silver pieces with the traditional tools they had used for years. Natalie bought a small silver vase from them to take home to Mi Mi. She packed it carefully in her shoulder bag and hoped that it would mean something special to her friend because it came from the place where her parents now lived.

  They stopped in a tea shop. The woman and her daughters who ran it sat knitting handbags to sell to tourists. Mr P explained that a lot of visitors came to Sagaing at the end of the rainy season for the robe-offering ceremony but for most of the year, Sagaing was simply a place for peaceful worship.

  The view from the top of the hill at sunset was breathtaking, but Natalie was glad when she was finally taken to the nunnery where she would spend the night. She felt exhausted from all the sightseeing. They seemed to have walked for many kilometres. She marvelled at the stamina of Mi Mi’s elderly relatives.

  The nunnery was a simple, new building made of brick and cement, softened by a roofline decorated with traditional wooden carvings.

  Natalie was introduced to Sister Tin Tin Pe and was pleased to find that the nun spoke good English. The abbess was an impressive woman with a direct gaze, a firm, calm voice and a formidable air of authority.

  ‘The nuns will look after your needs. There is meditation at 4 a.m. and food at 6 a.m.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Natalie. ‘I’m finding Sagaing such an interesting place. My friends tell me that you are trying to improve the status of Buddhist nuns here in Myanmar.’

  ‘Yes, that is my life’s work, my calling.’

  ‘So this place must be very special to you,’ said Natalie politely.

  ‘This nunnery is my nerve centre, my headquarters, you might say.’ Sister Tin Tin Pe smiled briefly. ‘But I also need to travel and lecture in order to raise funds.’

  ‘I suppose you need funds for your work and to keep this nunnery going?’ said Natalie.

  ‘All Buddhist institutions need financial support, but most particularly nunneries. The lack of donations is a problem for most of them. Nuns are often forced to live at the most basic level.’

  ‘That’s surprising in a country as devout as Myanmar,’ replied Natalie.

  ‘It has a lot to do with the lack of status of nuns. They are seen as having little religious power, so naturally people give their support to those who have more.’

  ‘Then why do women become nuns? What do they do?’

  ‘Any woman can become a nun. Sometimes women join a nunnery only for a short time, but most women stay on. They might be widows, or women who have never married. It varies. The nuns see themselves as the keepers of Buddhist virtues, and propagators of Buddhism. They learn the rituals of Buddhism and have detailed knowledge of ceremonies, so they complement the role of monks. Nuns make sure that everything runs to plan.’

  ‘So they have an important role to play then in the spiritual life of this country.’

  ‘That is true but it is also true that their role is not fully appreciated. Only last week, while I was absent, the nuns from here helped perform rites at a funeral. They recited protective verses and then walked with the family to the burial ground, while the monks rode there in a car. Yet the monks were given generous donations for their part in the ceremony and the nuns were given very little.’

  ‘That doesn’t seem fair,’ said Natalie. She thought to herself that things might have been different had Sister Tin Tin Pe been around.

  ‘Are all nunneries like this one?’ Natalie couldn’t believe that she had the chance to stay in a place like this. The experience was quite beyond anything she could have conceived of doing.

  ‘No, they can be quite different. Some might be composed of a cluster of small houses,
each housing only a handful of women and essentially independent from the others. The houses are usually donated by the families of the nuns. Other nunneries are like this one. There are fifty-four nuns here and it is run as one large house. Other nuns are attached to monasteries and there they might run the kitchens and the monastery finances. Nuns frequently make good administrators.’

  ‘I can understand why you need to raise funds to keep this place going.’

  ‘Yes. I raise money for other things as well. For example, we are building a shelter in Nepal for young girls at risk. Poor and uneducated village girls are sold by their families or even kidnapped, and forced into prostitution. HIV/AIDS and abortions further ruin their lives. We do what we can for these poor girls. But although this social work is important, my primary objective is to empower nuns to achieve religious equality. At the moment, the best the nuns can hope for is to be born a man in another life or to earn merit through their sons becoming novices.’

  ‘And how can you make these changes happen? I can’t imagine men willingly giving up their privileges to help Buddhist nuns become fully ordained.’

  Sister Tin Tin Pe gave a big smile. ‘You are right. Nuns are seen as subservient, handmaids, but that can be changed. Sometimes one has to seize the moment, and invoke past history.’ She shrugged. ‘In the meantime we continue working to reinforce the Buddhist way of life to the Burmese people. I hope you will be comfortable. It means a lot to Thet Wai and Tun Oo that you brought them a message from their daughter. It was a kind act on your part.’

  ‘I just want my friend to know that her parents are well and happy,’ said Natalie, at the same time thinking what strong leadership there was in Burma from women like Aung San Suu Kyi and Sister Tin Tin Pe.

  Two young nuns, with shaved heads and wearing pale pink robes, shyly curious of their visitor, led Natalie to the small, sparsely furnished room where she would be sleeping, and then showed her the spartan bathing facilities. Later, after evening prayers, Natalie was taken into the communal dining hall to eat on her own as the nuns didn’t eat after midday. She was served a simple but wholesome meal consisting of about five small dishes. Natalie could identify a vegetable curry and a spicy omelette, but she had no idea what the other dishes were. Nevertheless they all tasted delicious. Afterwards, she carried her plate to the sink and washed it. Before leaving the dining hall, she bowed to the Buddha figure. She then walked through the garden in the soft night air to her curtainless room and hard bed, where she slept like a log.

  Dawn had already broken when Natalie woke. She could hear soft chanting and realised that she’d missed meditation and prayers, so she hurried to the bathroom and splashed herself with refreshingly cold water and quickly dressed. She returned to her room to find the two young nuns sitting on the bed holding a bowl of warm food for her. They indicated she was to eat, so Natalie dipped her spoon into the spicy vermicelli noodles topped with dried shrimp. The nuns watched, smiling and nodding, until Natalie was finished, and then they took her dish and quietly slipped away.

  Natalie picked up her bag and went to the courtyard of the nunnery where Sister Tin Tin Pe was speaking to Mr P.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked.

  ‘Unbelievably well. I think all the walking we did yesterday wore me out.’

  ‘Everyone says they sleep well at a religious house. Perhaps it is the calm atmosphere and many blessings,’ he said with a smile.

  Natalie turned to Sister Tin Tin Pe. ‘I hope your work continues well,’ she said. Reaching into her purse, she took out some US dollars and gave them to the nun. ‘Thank you for your hospitality and thank you for answering all my questions.’

  ‘Mingalabar. Blessings for the rest of your journey and the path you are following.’

  Mr P took her bag and said, ‘We must go and say goodbye to your friends. And then we will drive to Pyin Oo Lwin.’

  *

  In her mind Natalie filed away the image of Mi Mi’s parents standing close together, both wearing their longyi and formal tops, smiling and waving as the car drove away. She hoped Mi Mi would be pleased with the many photographs she had taken of them. Perhaps, thought Natalie, one day Mi Mi might be able to come and visit her parents. But quite a lot would have to change before that was possible.

  Natalie swapped seats with Mr P and sat in the front, with her camera poised. She realised that she would be able to take much better photos from the front of the car where she could see the view ahead.

  Mr P laughed and said that people would think that she was the guide and he was her tourist. Natalie was pleased that their relationship had developed to the point where they could joke with each other.

  ‘Well,’ she replied, ‘I hope you’re not a difficult one.’

  They drove back through Mandalay towards Pyin Oo Lwin and Natalie noticed a turn-off.

  ‘Where does that go?’ she asked.

  ‘A place called Mogok,’ said Mr P.

  Soe Soe, sitting beside her, shook his head. ‘No good. Cannot go.’

  Mr P explained. ‘Mogok’s where all the ruby mines are. It’s a very bad road and dangerous. The military controls most of the mines and they don’t allow visitors.’

  ‘Very famous for beautiful ruby and sapphire,’ added Soe Soe. ‘But terrible for people.’

  ‘It is known that the junta makes both adults and children work there as slave labour,’ said Mr P quietly. ‘When the rubies are in hard-to-get-at places, they send children down the crevices to mine by hand. If poor villagers find a ruby and use it as a means to try to escape over the border to buy a new life, and they’re caught, they are put into one of the labour camps. All the money from the sale of the rubies goes to the military. The ordinary people get nothing.’

  The road began to climb up towards Pyin Oo Lwin. On the way, Mr P pointed out a teak forest. Further on, they passed a small village of thatched bamboo huts where the wood smoke from the village fires curled lazily skyward. Natalie could see bamboo pens containing pigs and goats. Then the road levelled out with paddyfields growing on one side of it.

  As the car swung around a corner they were confronted with a laden wooden-wheeled ox cart on the side of the road. A man stood beside it, examining one of its wheels. He hailed them.

  Soe Soe did not slow, but Natalie said, ‘I think he needs help. Maybe the wheel is broken.’

  Mr P spoke swiftly to Soe Soe who pulled over and reversed back along the road.

  ‘I will see what the matter is,’ Mr P told Natalie. He got out of the car and walked back to the cart.

  Natalie reached for her camera. ‘I must take a photo. That cart looks as though it’s a hundred years old!’

  ‘Miss, please wait,’ said Soe Soe.

  But Natalie got out of the car and began to take photos of the yoked ox.

  Mr P called to her to get back into the car but, before she could do that, two scruffy-looking soldiers walked out from behind the cart where they had obviously been hiding. One was carrying a rifle.

  Feeling very frightened, Natalie quickly got back into the car. She dropped her camera into her bag.

  Mr P began talking rapidly to the soldiers and the three of them started to walk towards the car. One of the soldiers rapped on the lid of the boot. Soe Soe released its latch and the men began rifling through its contents.

  Natalie stuck her head out of the car window and, trying to sound stronger than she felt, called out, ‘Mr P, what is going on? Who are these men? Why are we stopped?’

  ‘They are soldiers. They want to know where we are going. They say they are looking for contraband,’ said Mr P. ‘Please stay calm.’

  ‘What exactly are they looking for?’ Natalie got out of the car.

  ‘I do not know if they understand English, Natalie.’

  Natalie took the hint and didn’t say anything more.

  The men poked about in the boot and then took out Mr P’s backpack and Natalie’s suitcase, opened them up and began rifling through their belongings.r />
  ‘This is outrageous, they are personal belongings,’ hissed Natalie under her breath. The sight of her clothes, her underwear and a sandal being dropped on the roadside felt like a personal violation. ‘I don’t believe this is happening.’ But as one of the soldiers walked to the front of the car she started to panic. ‘Now what?’

  ‘They want to see your papers.’ Mr P walked over to her and gently rested his hand on Natalie’s arm to reassure her.

  Soe Soe continued to sit stoically behind the wheel, staring straight ahead. The soldier opened the passenger door and grabbed Natalie’s handbag. He barked an order at Soe Soe, who slowly got out of the car. One soldier tipped the contents of Natalie’s bag onto the ground and the other one bent down and picked up her wallet. Mr P tightened his grip on her arm as she instinctively went to lunge towards her personal effects. A soldier opened her passport, looked at it and then dropped it onto the ground. He took the remaining US dollars Natalie had in her wallet.

  But when he picked up her camera and radio, she shouted out, ‘Leave that camera!’

  The soldier looked at her in surprise. He lifted the camera and pointed it at her, pretending to take a photo. Smiling, he shoved it into his pocket. The other soldier began to speak urgently to him.

  Natalie stared down at her little cosmetics bag, a bottle of water, wet tissues, a book, a notebook and the small silver vase, all scattered beside the road. Then it hit her. The kammavaca wasn’t there. She looked at Mr P, who was still gripping her arm.

  Soe Soe lit a cigarette and leaned against the car, waiting patiently for the ordeal to be over.

  One of the soldiers spoke to Mr P in a very aggressive manner, but Mr P shrugged and lifted his arms, to give the impression he was confused as to why the soldiers expected them to be carrying anything of value.

 

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