Myanmar - Those I Met Along The Way

Guided by the chanting  of the monks. Fuelled by Myanmar beer and tamarind sweets. This country and its people are delightful. 

                                                                                                                                                  Sue Orr

My life in Yangon was filled with a deep sense of gratitude. As is every precious memory that continues to slip into my thoughts. Each and every day. Photographs are intensely powerful catalysts. For they whisk me back to that very moment captured through the lens. I can feel the person’s skin. Feel the warmth of their smiles. Their energies. I relive the emotions of the time. The scents of moments past return to delight. Some memories are hauntingly beautiful. Others perhaps not so. From each and every person who walked beside me on my journey, I learnt something new. Each soul brought their own wisdom, advice and support. Each one a gift. A gift enhancing my path. Hopefully to each one, I gave something in return. And in doing so, added a little something special to their day. 

I embraced the people I met along the way. The everyday people of Myanmar. Whilst simply being their true selves, they enriched my life. There was happiness in seeing their faces. The faces of those who worked alongside me. Those who I briefly met. Those who I never actually met, but simply shared a moment. A glance. A smile. Those moments allowed me to gain insight into their hearts and souls. On many faces were the tell-tale signs of suffering. Of pain and hardships. Of sadness buried deep within. The past was all there. Etched in the lines of time. I wondered what it was exactly that the elderly had witnessed through the passing years. What exactly those eyes had seen. Those hearts had felt.

The everyday people shared greetings with me. No matter their mood that day. Faces clearly displayed a sense of gratification. An appreciation for what they had. They shared their successes. No matter how small they may have been. Their pride in what they had achieved was tangible. Somehow Life had nurtured a deep admiration for all things simple. Resulting in humble, but deeply spiritual lives. 

Young children shared magical giggles with me. Their innocence and zest for life infusing the air. Grandmother’s proudly sat beside their young ones, encouraging them to greet me in English. For, according to them, those spoken words could open doors to the western world. Brief conversations followed each time we met on the stairs.  To my surprise, the elderly lady always asking about Cape Town. Her late husband had been a sailor and had shared many tales of distant shores.

Most of my friends in these photos, I would see each week as I headed into the city. Some were of a more earnest nature. Going about their affairs in a serious light. I would simply be given a nod of the head. No smiles. But that was enough for me. We had connected. One man chopped coconuts using a rather terrifyingly sharp tool. He then poured the fresh colourless liquid into a plastic bag. His take-away service was most popular in that sweltering heat. Another man arranged the most heavenly pomelo slices in small trays. He was meticulous in what he did. Balancing the final products carefully on the whole fruit. Creating attractive displays. He would quietly nod and with a wave of his left hand, invite me to buy.

Sitting on her haunches with ease, day after day, my friend, the doyenne of the neighbourhood, observed humanity. Sucking on a massive cheroot, she would exhibit the most beautiful smile when she saw me. Hands clasped together in greeting. Her face reflecting a rich life. Filled with character lines and beauty. She clearly had a wicked sense of humour. Her body, strong and lean. This exquisite woman could no doubt teach me so much about life. I longed to sit beside her on the pavement. To listen intently to her stories. Stories of love, of suffering and of her country.

The people of Myanmar are sincere and kind. They made me feel as though I belonged. Opening their arms to welcome this tall, blonde lady with blue eyes. I remember feeling awkward on arriving in Yangon as the people are generally so much shorter than myself. The awkwardness certainly didn’t last long. I was loved. Respected. Made to feel needed. Attitudes of friendliness and acceptance were showered upon me. A deeply embedded sense of trust exists amongst the Myanmar people. I felt safe and secure at all times. They share a desire to help one another. To respect and support one another. 

Exploring Yangon on foot provided valuable opportunities for me to learn more about myself.  I am one who needs to share. Whether it be food, an experience or anything else for that matter, I need to share. Living alone in Myanmar taught me that despite being lonely at times, being alone meant cherishing my own company. Through this awareness, I had tons of fun. Challenging myself. Extending myself to reach out and further afield. There was something profound about walking tall and walking alone. I really enjoyed the dinner dates with Self too. 

My mom, Yvonne, spent many months with me in Yangon. She loved every minute of the country and its people. Days were spent exploring the streets. Getting hopelessly lost at times. Literally on every street corner, a friendly Myanmar person would approach us, wanting to help. Great respect was always shown to Mom, who at eighty eight was full of energy and enthusiasm. I witnessed how deeply the people respect the elderly. Strangers would find a chair for Mom. Hold a door open. And always lend an arm on which she could lean. One of the local drivers became a friend. He still asks about “Grandmother” with each communication we share. Being helpful and kind, sincere and caring, friendly and gentle, are values held in high regard amongst the Myanmar. Practiced each and every day.

People came into my life with a purpose. If only for a fleeting moment. Whether it be to bond on a certain level. To support. To show empathy. To laugh together. Words were never needed. Just being, is all that was required. We learnt from one another. We exchanged an understanding of what it is to be human. 

The greatest gift I received whilst making my way in Myanmar was the gift of connection. Stopping to capture a moment, a scene or a wonderful face, would produce warm smiles. The people allowed me to stop by. To witness their lives. It mattered not that I had no understanding of their language. It mattered not that our ancestries were of completely different cultures and belief systems. They let me in for that brief period of time. To witness. To listen. To truly see captured moments in their daily lives.

I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason. Bringing something we must learn. And we are led to those who help us most to grow. If we let them and we help them in return.

                                                                                                                          Stephen Schwartz

The greatest lesson I learnt was that no matter what people’s faces reveal, each face is unique. An individual work of art portraying a journey. A journey through Life. Together we all shared in the spirit of appreciation. That of being part of Life in Yangon.

To be continued …