Take-Aways

Up in the Shan hills and the country is in chaos. Monks have been striking for almost a week asking for reforms. Not that we would know, except that in the last couple of days it has been literally impossible to get an outside line for the phone and the internet has ground to a halt. Monks are staging silent protests reminiscent of the last time they managed to demand elections, over fifteen years ago. This time it’s about the gasoline price hike. It has affected everyone and there is not a person that has not, in turn, changed prices because of it. The pinch is being felt. More so in Mandalay, more so in the cities where work is scarce and rickshaws beg for business. Lurking outside of guesthouses, infinitely polite, infinitely gentle but desperate for the work nevertheless. Money here exchanges hands so fast. You have barely paid a driver that he distributes kick backs to any and everyone who even came near his hard won cash cow. He generally does not own his vehicle and whether he gets business or not he probably has to pay the owner a rental. In a way it reminds me of a Chinese novel, the name escapes me, that relates the life of a rickshaw man at the turn of the 20th century in imperial Beijing. Over 100 years later the same novel could be describing the life of a rickshaw driver in Mandalay. Precarious, prone to unforeseen misfortunes that can very quickly add up to a hard and downward spiral. Always balancing on the brink of destitution. And still working with a smile and a kind word. It’s the drivers that have struck me the most. Certainly, there is enough here to admire. From the graceful Amarapura bridge, a long teak decking that winds over the vast lake, South of Mandalay, to the abundance of ancient royal capitals, as if the royals here could not make up their mind as to which location would be more fitting. Sagaing with it’s hills, and endless temples, Inwa, an island on the Irrawady with an eerie, bat filled and absolutely mystical teak monastery, Mingun further upstream or Mandalay itself. There is the fascinating if a bit circus-like snake temple where three pythons have nestled against a Buddha for the last 23 years and are now promptly dragged around every day at 11 for photo ops, fetish like rubbing with money and force feeding. There is the splendor of Mandalay hill studded with temples, with an outstanding view on the whole valley and flooded Irrawady, which, it turns out, simply means “Big river”. Magical view that ends, as the sun sets, on a moon lit crown and the gentle bells of the Buddhist stupa in the wind. Yes it’s the drivers that have struck me most, the drivers and the floods. You would think that since the floods happen every year people would just up and leave and go elsewhere. They do not. They just endure them for the month or two that they occur. Move out from their houses and live on the edge of the road like refugees. Surreal spectacle when what you think is river gets interrupted by a huge half drowned tree. Beautiful at times, because it gives you the faith that life can grow anywhere, on water, like magic. These are interesting times for Burma. It all started with a protest against the rising fuel prices and now it is becoming a list of requests. Curbing inflation, releasing political prisoners, elections and for the military to sit at the negotiating table with the civil society. How can monks strike? By refusing to perform key ceremonies in a predominantly Buddhist society. Will things be any different? No one really knows. No one really dares to hope, only tentatively, wishfully. They have seen it before. They tried and they suffered for it. But this is not a “poor me” society. Overwhelmingly people acknowledge living in a rich but mismanaged country that could have it all. Interesting times indeed…