Burma
I initially had great moral apprehension and discomfort in regard to going to Burma. Visiting Burma (Myanmar) is like visiting Iraq when Saddam Hussein was in power. It is a country of oppressed people run by a military regime whose tactic of governance is terror. 15 years ago there was an election and the NLD (national league of democracy) won by a 98 percent vote with Miss Aung Yat Sui Chi as their leader. The military then swept in, put her under arrest, and killed any other in opposition. She is still under arrest and they continue to terrorize their people in this fashion; Burma’s dictator is ranked the 2nd worst in the world today by Time and Newsweek. Cell phones are cut as well as the internet was tapped and cut even in our boat lasting the duration of a week after our leave. The regime is also of the mindset that the US is about to invade the country any day now, so the propaganda against us is very high as well as their caution. It was about a 75/25 chance until we arrived in port that we would not be able to enter the country. Unexpectedly, they allowed us in. There is some fighting going on in the Eastern portion of the country. I initially did not want to visit Burma as it portrays a message to not only the Burmese citizens, but to the international community as well that we accept this regime as a valid form of government. I additionally didn’t want to bring what money I did into a country where a government uses its money to buy arms to suppress its people. However, I decided to enter Burma as an informed individual ready to potentially return as a voice for these people in the plethora of free Burma campaigns that are being run by people who have never in fact laid eyes on Burma. I planned on entering Burma to find what I could find as an intellectual observer who could voice the strife that they themselves cannot express to the international community. However, as I was concerned for the safety for the Burmese citizens, I went in well aware that I would not initiate political conversations as not only would it be potentially dangerous for myself, but mostly that it would indubitably be fatal for those who decided to voice their opinion to me. I also went in well aware that there was more than likely the potential that I would only view what the regime wanted us to find. Nevertheless, I more-or-less had no idea what I would find as there is little information relayed outside of Burma.
What I did find in Burma was a country made up of gems. The people here are some of the most generous, kind, and honest people I’ve met. There is something uniquely genuine of the happy and poor individual. They have developed quite a sense of humor in response to their strife, their suppression, and their oppressors. It reminds me that humor in the wake of tribulation is universal and as potentially healing as ever.
Our entry into our port in Burma set the tone for the rest of my stay. We arrived as the sun was setting upon a land of smoke and fire. It was oddly eerie and concurrently majestic. In Southeast Asia they utilize a farming technique referred to as ‘slash and burn’ which means that after you’ve harvested your crop you burn it down in order to return a portion of the nutrients to the ground. The Burmese had all just harvested their sugarcane, so the land was covered in fire. Pulling in with the smoke laden sky that enhanced the already poignant golden sunset to that of red along with the subtle sweet scent of the burning crops was surreal.
My trip in Burma took me to Inle Lake, where tribes and monasteries reside almost completely untouched by visitors from Burma, let alone tourists and western foreigners. I was often times the first and last westerner these peoples will ever meet or see, so I hope I represented you all well. I did have an experience where I was trying to moon some of my friends and accidentally some Burmese caught some of the show…so I’m not quite sure how well I upheld the image….haha.opps. I traveled to Inle with about 10 of my other friends, a trip separate from where most SASers were going as most manifest trips were led to Yangon (Rangoon) or Mandalay which meant we avoided, to our knowledge, a military guide. The lake and mountains of Inle are absolutely beautiful and it was almost as if traveling back in time as many are without electricity, and those that do have it only have it for 4 hours a day. Some of the monasteries up in the mountains use battery power and the monks must travel though passes for over half a day to go to a generator where they pay to charge their battery. They travel road by horse-drawn cart, bullock carts, and or bicycles. The lake has portions that are shallow and almost marsh-like where tribes have built homes out of bamboo on stilts into the lake. Inle is covered with these communities all over the lake and they traverse the lake and go from town to town via canoe, like we would travel from town to town by car. Sometimes when going through to one portion of the lake I’d pass through about 5 separate villages using the busier routes in the lake. The people of Inle canoe using a certain technique with their legs which proves to be more efficient than the typical way of paddling. Each day at sunset we would go on canoe rides with people of the village on the lake we were staying in. Beck and I at one time were shown by the locals how to paddle in this way; we were lucky that we somehow did not tip over. I got competitive and began organizing races in the lake with the locals as well. At sunset the farmers all take their water buffalo down to bathe in the lake, so our races would consist of dodging all the water buffalo-it was ridiculous. The villages utilize every portion of the lake for their day to day survival. It goes with out saying that fish is the mainstay of their diet, as well as they uses the thick grasses in the lake for soups, clothing, and fuel. I spent my entire trip in Inle Lake, either on the lake or hiking through the mountains and villages above Inle.
During my hikes, I’d come upon several remote Buddhist monasteries tucked into the mountains above the lake that I‘d spend time at and sleep at. At one particular monastery I arrived right before lunch and decided to participate in feeding the monks. The monks cannot eat unless food is donated to them so I donated 15 USD which was enough to feed the entire monastery. In addition to paying for their meal, I ritually was required to offer food to the monks as well. I had to sit at each of their small tables, which were approximately 10 inches off the ground (I mentioned before that in the east they sit on the ground), and ritualistically lift the table with help from the novices in offering. They could not sit at the table until I had lifted the table and while moving my way around doing such, they systematically stood around the tables until I had finished. I moved from table to table doing this and then moved on to offering their water and then special plates to the head monk in this fashion. They do not speak during their meals, and sat with me later during lunch to speak with me over tea. I think it is apt to mention here that women are not allowed to touch the robes of a Buddhist monk, so the entire time I was nervous that in these somewhat close quarters I would accidentally touch them. On the street it is expected that women merely moved aside approximately 10 ft away. Most of the Buddhist monks learn English, among several other languages, and are extremely educated; I had many progressive and academic conversations with these monks about both the political situation in Burma and The States. I met several boys who had just joined the religious order and was shocked at these sometimes 4 year old’s discipline in keeping up with the lifestyle of a Buddhist monk. The boys were very curious of us westerners and if they worked up enough courage, would approach and use the opportunity to practice their English. They always would approach, suddenly straighten their backs, and fold their arms while saying, ’Let me introduce myself’ in a very stately and commanding manner. The rest of what they said was lost on me as I was unsure whether or not it was English or Burmese. It was adorable. They also continually kept asking me about the color of my hair and eyes, and were somewhat transfixed as they had never seen these features on a person before. The older monks were amused by this as the boys were stupefied as to where I came from and continually asked about it; it is bizarre to be treated this way. Additionally during my hikes through villages I’d hear ‘Nay kaling lar?’, which is translated literally as, ‘sister where do you go?’. which to us is like ‘whats up’ and is not expected to be answered. They thereafter would invite me in for tea; the poorest of families, living on mats underneath bent palms would invite me to come sit and have tea with them.
Many refer to Burma as ‘pagoda land’ as you will see everywhere, absolutely everywhere, extravagant pagodas, from the most poverty stricken to the most random areas- often one every 2 sq miles in the flatlands. Often while I was hiking in the mountainous areas above the lake, we’d pass through a gate that would symbolize the entering of a pagoda and what then, was now considered holy land and were required to remove our shoes. Sometimes the hike would extend for 3 miles before we’d reach the pagoda or the monastery. Needless to say it was difficult hiking barefoot with a 30 lb backpack on rocks, sticks and the like; however, the worst part was the heat and how hot the ground was. I have not mentioned the heat yet- the daily average while I was there was anywhere between 103- 112 degrees. The seasons in Burma are spilt up between the hot, wet, and dry season; we were there during their hot season.
In Inle there is a 5 day market that moves each day to a different portion of the lake so the tribes can buy and sell vegetables as well as other crafts they have made. Tribes from all over the lake travel sometimes for days to reach this market and sell and pick up their necessary items. As the 5 day market was within a 20 minute boat ride of where I was staying one day, we decided to go that morning. The market was bustling with tribes people with the complete contents of their ‘shops’ in their canoes. After moving through the ‘boat shops’ the marketplace on the shore was even more so active with games Burmese children could play, as if going to the game section within a carnival. I played these games with some of the children for some time- one involving a ball made with a hide of some sort with and tossing it into bent branches that acted as hoops- much like the ring toss in carnivals. After walking amongst the shops for some time, a group of people picnicking and eating Breakfast invited me to come eat with them. Needless to say, neither of us new a each other’s language, I with my basic hello, goodbye, thank you, and other minute Burmese phrases, and their complete lack of English would suggest that we had a difficult time communicating with one another. However, with semi-sign language we communicated more genuinely perhaps than we would had we known each other’s languages. They overwhelmed me with food, and it was incredibly difficult to begin to resist what they were giving (may I mention here that these are incredibly poor people and their generosity was humbling). We sat with each other for sometime enjoying the morning-overlooking the bustling market and the lake that made up the stunning landscape. Eventually I had to leave, as my canoe was leaving, and I said my goodbyes, but I soon realized that one woman followed behind me at about 3 ft back down the path and the through the market to where my boat was. She then hid once I reached my boat when I finally decided to turn and say goodbye. A sweet memory.
Burma is a Buddhist country, and often, even the citizens that were brave enough to voice their opinion would themselves assert how ironic it is that in a Buddhist, pacifist nation, a militaristic regime is oppressing its people. Our guide that led us to Inle had little qualms in regard to speaking openly of the political situation only in specific areas. When hiking he would openly speak with me, but otherwise would not. He apparently has been trying for over 8 years to receive visa’s to the US or Canada for his children. He is continually refused, but consistently attempts. We spoke a lot about the current situation, about what injustices he has endured and what would need to occur for the country to be freed from this regime. He had an incredible sense of humor and among other things, sort of consistently joked around about me marrying his son . However, as we were saying our goodbyes and exchanging contact information, I offered to do whatever I could for him and his family; he then made a serious and final plea for me to marry his son. I felt horrible declining and offered to do whatever else I could do.
As always, there is much more I could say….please ask questions if you’re curious about anything I‘ve not mentioned…there are many more stories for me to tell when I return….
I love you and miss you all.
Sorry I’m late with the updates….I will be posting with my entry on Vietnam the day after the next.
What I did find in Burma was a country made up of gems. The people here are some of the most generous, kind, and honest people I’ve met. There is something uniquely genuine of the happy and poor individual. They have developed quite a sense of humor in response to their strife, their suppression, and their oppressors. It reminds me that humor in the wake of tribulation is universal and as potentially healing as ever.
Our entry into our port in Burma set the tone for the rest of my stay. We arrived as the sun was setting upon a land of smoke and fire. It was oddly eerie and concurrently majestic. In Southeast Asia they utilize a farming technique referred to as ‘slash and burn’ which means that after you’ve harvested your crop you burn it down in order to return a portion of the nutrients to the ground. The Burmese had all just harvested their sugarcane, so the land was covered in fire. Pulling in with the smoke laden sky that enhanced the already poignant golden sunset to that of red along with the subtle sweet scent of the burning crops was surreal.
My trip in Burma took me to Inle Lake, where tribes and monasteries reside almost completely untouched by visitors from Burma, let alone tourists and western foreigners. I was often times the first and last westerner these peoples will ever meet or see, so I hope I represented you all well. I did have an experience where I was trying to moon some of my friends and accidentally some Burmese caught some of the show…so I’m not quite sure how well I upheld the image….haha.opps. I traveled to Inle with about 10 of my other friends, a trip separate from where most SASers were going as most manifest trips were led to Yangon (Rangoon) or Mandalay which meant we avoided, to our knowledge, a military guide. The lake and mountains of Inle are absolutely beautiful and it was almost as if traveling back in time as many are without electricity, and those that do have it only have it for 4 hours a day. Some of the monasteries up in the mountains use battery power and the monks must travel though passes for over half a day to go to a generator where they pay to charge their battery. They travel road by horse-drawn cart, bullock carts, and or bicycles. The lake has portions that are shallow and almost marsh-like where tribes have built homes out of bamboo on stilts into the lake. Inle is covered with these communities all over the lake and they traverse the lake and go from town to town via canoe, like we would travel from town to town by car. Sometimes when going through to one portion of the lake I’d pass through about 5 separate villages using the busier routes in the lake. The people of Inle canoe using a certain technique with their legs which proves to be more efficient than the typical way of paddling. Each day at sunset we would go on canoe rides with people of the village on the lake we were staying in. Beck and I at one time were shown by the locals how to paddle in this way; we were lucky that we somehow did not tip over. I got competitive and began organizing races in the lake with the locals as well. At sunset the farmers all take their water buffalo down to bathe in the lake, so our races would consist of dodging all the water buffalo-it was ridiculous. The villages utilize every portion of the lake for their day to day survival. It goes with out saying that fish is the mainstay of their diet, as well as they uses the thick grasses in the lake for soups, clothing, and fuel. I spent my entire trip in Inle Lake, either on the lake or hiking through the mountains and villages above Inle.
During my hikes, I’d come upon several remote Buddhist monasteries tucked into the mountains above the lake that I‘d spend time at and sleep at. At one particular monastery I arrived right before lunch and decided to participate in feeding the monks. The monks cannot eat unless food is donated to them so I donated 15 USD which was enough to feed the entire monastery. In addition to paying for their meal, I ritually was required to offer food to the monks as well. I had to sit at each of their small tables, which were approximately 10 inches off the ground (I mentioned before that in the east they sit on the ground), and ritualistically lift the table with help from the novices in offering. They could not sit at the table until I had lifted the table and while moving my way around doing such, they systematically stood around the tables until I had finished. I moved from table to table doing this and then moved on to offering their water and then special plates to the head monk in this fashion. They do not speak during their meals, and sat with me later during lunch to speak with me over tea. I think it is apt to mention here that women are not allowed to touch the robes of a Buddhist monk, so the entire time I was nervous that in these somewhat close quarters I would accidentally touch them. On the street it is expected that women merely moved aside approximately 10 ft away. Most of the Buddhist monks learn English, among several other languages, and are extremely educated; I had many progressive and academic conversations with these monks about both the political situation in Burma and The States. I met several boys who had just joined the religious order and was shocked at these sometimes 4 year old’s discipline in keeping up with the lifestyle of a Buddhist monk. The boys were very curious of us westerners and if they worked up enough courage, would approach and use the opportunity to practice their English. They always would approach, suddenly straighten their backs, and fold their arms while saying, ’Let me introduce myself’ in a very stately and commanding manner. The rest of what they said was lost on me as I was unsure whether or not it was English or Burmese. It was adorable. They also continually kept asking me about the color of my hair and eyes, and were somewhat transfixed as they had never seen these features on a person before. The older monks were amused by this as the boys were stupefied as to where I came from and continually asked about it; it is bizarre to be treated this way. Additionally during my hikes through villages I’d hear ‘Nay kaling lar?’, which is translated literally as, ‘sister where do you go?’. which to us is like ‘whats up’ and is not expected to be answered. They thereafter would invite me in for tea; the poorest of families, living on mats underneath bent palms would invite me to come sit and have tea with them.
Many refer to Burma as ‘pagoda land’ as you will see everywhere, absolutely everywhere, extravagant pagodas, from the most poverty stricken to the most random areas- often one every 2 sq miles in the flatlands. Often while I was hiking in the mountainous areas above the lake, we’d pass through a gate that would symbolize the entering of a pagoda and what then, was now considered holy land and were required to remove our shoes. Sometimes the hike would extend for 3 miles before we’d reach the pagoda or the monastery. Needless to say it was difficult hiking barefoot with a 30 lb backpack on rocks, sticks and the like; however, the worst part was the heat and how hot the ground was. I have not mentioned the heat yet- the daily average while I was there was anywhere between 103- 112 degrees. The seasons in Burma are spilt up between the hot, wet, and dry season; we were there during their hot season.
In Inle there is a 5 day market that moves each day to a different portion of the lake so the tribes can buy and sell vegetables as well as other crafts they have made. Tribes from all over the lake travel sometimes for days to reach this market and sell and pick up their necessary items. As the 5 day market was within a 20 minute boat ride of where I was staying one day, we decided to go that morning. The market was bustling with tribes people with the complete contents of their ‘shops’ in their canoes. After moving through the ‘boat shops’ the marketplace on the shore was even more so active with games Burmese children could play, as if going to the game section within a carnival. I played these games with some of the children for some time- one involving a ball made with a hide of some sort with and tossing it into bent branches that acted as hoops- much like the ring toss in carnivals. After walking amongst the shops for some time, a group of people picnicking and eating Breakfast invited me to come eat with them. Needless to say, neither of us new a each other’s language, I with my basic hello, goodbye, thank you, and other minute Burmese phrases, and their complete lack of English would suggest that we had a difficult time communicating with one another. However, with semi-sign language we communicated more genuinely perhaps than we would had we known each other’s languages. They overwhelmed me with food, and it was incredibly difficult to begin to resist what they were giving (may I mention here that these are incredibly poor people and their generosity was humbling). We sat with each other for sometime enjoying the morning-overlooking the bustling market and the lake that made up the stunning landscape. Eventually I had to leave, as my canoe was leaving, and I said my goodbyes, but I soon realized that one woman followed behind me at about 3 ft back down the path and the through the market to where my boat was. She then hid once I reached my boat when I finally decided to turn and say goodbye. A sweet memory.
Burma is a Buddhist country, and often, even the citizens that were brave enough to voice their opinion would themselves assert how ironic it is that in a Buddhist, pacifist nation, a militaristic regime is oppressing its people. Our guide that led us to Inle had little qualms in regard to speaking openly of the political situation only in specific areas. When hiking he would openly speak with me, but otherwise would not. He apparently has been trying for over 8 years to receive visa’s to the US or Canada for his children. He is continually refused, but consistently attempts. We spoke a lot about the current situation, about what injustices he has endured and what would need to occur for the country to be freed from this regime. He had an incredible sense of humor and among other things, sort of consistently joked around about me marrying his son . However, as we were saying our goodbyes and exchanging contact information, I offered to do whatever I could for him and his family; he then made a serious and final plea for me to marry his son. I felt horrible declining and offered to do whatever else I could do.
As always, there is much more I could say….please ask questions if you’re curious about anything I‘ve not mentioned…there are many more stories for me to tell when I return….
I love you and miss you all.
Sorry I’m late with the updates….I will be posting with my entry on Vietnam the day after the next.