It is 4am, air is cold, the whole train wagon is dark. Ordinary class is full of unknown, smell of sleepiness, and strangers that I share no language with. Train moves forward, slow and bumpy ride sets the rhythm of this unusual country.
Back in 2014, when I visited Myanmar, it was still a country untouched by the modern tech inventions. Regular people did not have phones, debit cards, most of them have never seen a computer or used internet. The country has recently opened up to foreigners, who started to come and admire this strange, strange land. Land where women’s face is painted with thanaka - yellow powder paint made from a tree bark, land where man wear lungyi - long skirts.
Myanmar has been through so much, oppressive military regime, harsh life conditions, yet the people find a way how to go on, find some kind of inner peace and most of all, keep a very kind heart.
I sit down on a small wooden bench next to an old wrinkled grandma. She takes her tiny wrinkled hand and places it on my left tight. Her touch is very gentle, and to be honest at this point I am not sure the hand is even there. Then I look down to check and yes, it is there. I feel confused. Being brought up in an environment where keeping personal space is a big deal, I feel far beyond my comfort zone. I look into her eyes and she gives me the warmest smile, with shining clarity in her eyes that look right at me. I get so embarrassed by such an unexpected moment of intimacy, that I look away and try not to cry, as my throat becomes tensed and my heart melts a bit. After some time she offers me a bag of rice to use as a pillow.
Unfortunately, I have not yet mastered the national sports of Myanmar aka “the art of sleeping anywhere”, so I need to return this gift. She offers me her own knee to use as a pillow. As touching as this gesture is, I am not that compact. Old wrinkled grandma stands up, pulls out an empty bag of rice, spreads it on the floor, and falls sound asleep, beautifully ignoring all the people passing through and around her in the train aisle.
What I have learned on that train, is how important and how easy it is, to connect with person next to you. I don’t want to forget to look into the eyes of strangers, I don’t want to fear smiling and being curious about others. Even when we don’t share a single word in a common.
I don’t want to forget that 4am cold air full of humanness hiding in a dark wagon on a road to Mandalay.
I wrote this story for a competition with World Nomads. Info below. All the photos were taken by me.
Also, feel free to enjoy a timelapse video I did in Myanmar.
You can join the competition, too! over here:
https://www.worldnomads.com/create
My entry:
https://writing18.worldnomads.com/create/scholarships/writing/2018/applications/road-to-mandalay
Beautiful story telling exercise on skillshare, that I did while writing this story:
http://skl.sh/2F7Z32O
See you around.
What a beautiful impression to share! I also love everything about the timelapse. You are an amazing story. Thank you for sharing.
It is this moments that resonate truth, this moments that changed me when I stopped resisting them, stopped resisting that intimacy that is actually always there between us all, since then I don't put up a act in front of the people but let them see me for who I am, it is funny to read that this happened to you in 2014, because my changes started to happen then on my trip to Thailand. There was no wrinkled grandma for me 😄 but yes a series of happenings that resulted in a big shift in my mindset
Beautiful story @chaifm I hope you win