Myanmar Girl

Deep within the market we wandered on. Not searching for anything particular. Simply treasuring what was ours to see that morning. Amidst vendors selling pots and the odd tools, we came upon a shack. The heat of the day was already pounding ruthlessly upon the tin roof. Within the space it was dark. Black in fact. Everything in sight was black. 

The man’s powerful arms worked tirelessly shovelling the hot coals into bags. His body drenched in sweat. The unforgiving blackness of the coal had painted long lines of black ink along his body. His nails were almost non-existent as a result of scraping up the last bits of coal. He nodded at Debbie and myself. Continuing to move the huge, never-ending mountains of black energy. My respect for that man grew. One would never fully grasp his daily suffering. I could only send him love and healing.

Debbie and I were about to turn away from the shack as it was too dark to capture the scene through the lens. Suddenly a child appeared in the murky shed. The thick curtain of toxic gloom forming a backdrop to her image. She stood in complete silence. Motionless. 

Our Myanmar Girl stared at us. For fear of seeming rude, we smiled and turned to look at something else. The uneven chunks of concrete flooring caused us to tread lightly. Nearing the open doorway, we stopped for a final smile. The beautiful young girl was standing right behind us. Her smile was hesitant to appear at first. Perhaps a shyness existed.

A child of beauty. Her huge doe-like eyes reflected her Spirit. Alive and radiant. However, dark pools of mystery and perhaps a hint of sadness too made their presence known. She looked innocent and vulnerable. Though observed the market folk with a sense of knowing and understanding. Her jet-black hair tied neatly into two ponytails on either side of her beautiful face created gentle waves of beauty. Framing her wonderful face. Her school shirt had been ironed. Thanaka had been smoothed onto her skin to protect it from the sun. All signs of being cared for. Of being loved. 

Without language we could have been kept worlds apart. We knew not of her heritage. Nor did that matter. We knew not of her family or what made her happy. For to be within her aura was enough. We spoke with our eyes. Our hearts and gentle smiles. She touched our hair and gazed up at our height. Fascinated with her new friends. That beautiful child touched our lives. 

Amidst the darkness of the coal and the raging heat of the fires, our Myanmar Girl reminded me that there is always light, good and beauty to be found. Under harsh conditions such as hers, she appeared calm and gentle. An air of acceptance filled her eyes. She possessed a sense of dignity. Of pride. Of quiet determination. I saw within her eyes – hope for the future. Her inborn acceptance of that which is now, provides daily support and strength. 

What beauty came together that day in the dusty market. What joy and learning were found. What love was shared amongst strangers. 

May our Myanmar Girl be loved, protected and happy always.