June 15
Set on one of the many large tributaries leading to the ocean that makes up the delta area, Labutta is a fascinating town: at once sleepy and yet alive with activity. The docks are a hive of activity in the morning, the market having relocated to the river-front. In the evening, the moonlight reflecting on the river spreads an ethereal silver glow over totherwise ugly mud-flats where a variety of river-boats are moored, some large, some small, some faded, some brightly coloured, most with peeling paint.
The ADRA office is located 3 blocks north of the river, connected by a muddy ribbon that is a poor excuse for a road. Walking to the main street requires careful steps and either a blocked nose or a strong stomach. Mongrel dogs scavenge the numerous rubbish piles, just one source of the stench, and occasionally snarl at other dogs. The tinkle of bicycle bells or the toot of a motorcycle replaces the sound of car engines and horns, and curious eyes peer out from all manner of houses, openly staring.
An evening stroll through town reveals a vague, though increasing western influence, yet it retains the charm of the culture that makes it so intriguing. Just down the road from the centrally appointed Buddhist temple, a pool table rests in a double-story concrete building, neighboured by an old-wooden Chinese-style house selling all manner of unrecognizable processed snacks on one side and a thatched-roof abode on the other. Opposite is an eatery protected from the elements by a blue and red tarpaulin. Blue plastic children’s tables complete with foot-stools for chairs provide a central meeting place for celebration as well as conversation over tea. These ‘tea houses’ (though many can hardly be called a ‘house’!) are the thread that binds Burmese culture together. Sitting on a footstool sipping Burmese tea seems to be as integral to Burmese men as tanaka (Burmese ‘make-up’) is to the women, though by no means does it exclude the opposite sex from either of these traditions.
It is at one of these tea houses I sit with U Khin Maung Oo, ADRA colleague and friend. We regularly dine together: Indian, Chinese, Burmese. Tonight we have eaten at an Indian street-food stall. On his portable cart, the vendor fried noodles over a charcoal stove, and fried roti, while we sat (somewhat uncomfortably for me) on the foot-stool chairs at the plastic table. But now, sitting in adult-sized chairs inside a ‘real’ tea house, I feel very much in luxury!
The faces at this bustling tea house are cast with a green pallor as they sit zombie-like, in haphazard rows facing the television, which happens to be directly above us. It is almost as though we are the centre of the stage, a drama unfolding to an audience of Burmese. Two streams of smoke, reminding me of a dragon, puff/stream from the hairy nose of an older man in the front row. The smell of smoke, however, is sweet, almost pleasant, reminding me of the smell of sheisha in the Middle East, as opposed to than the rancid smell of cigarettes.
U Khin Maung Oo and I, along with another ADRA worker who met us on the street, nibble on parle (sweet, flat fried Indian bread, somewhat similar to chapatti) and sip Burmese tea, sweet and rich, one of the taste sensations I have come to love about Burma. At 20c per cup, it is hardly an indulgence, but I feel indulgent sipping the liquid, especially over a conversation with friends. UKMO has become a good friend as well as a supportive colleague in the short time I have been in Labutta. His home is in Yangon, but he also lives in the quarters above the office, traveling home some weekend. He is a fount of knowledge, and is both interesting and interested. I am blessed to have his company and friendship. The experience of sharing tea together, a social experience in any culture, reminds me of the richness of friendship, and the blessing of friends: new, old, young, mature, Australian, African, Burmese. Wherever there are people, there are friends. I am very blessed.
