Wounded Dragon don't cry

As far as he could recollect, Ko Zaw Min has been penning, works of fiction and also, of past realistic boiling matters as non-fiction, in his mother language, Myanmar. View there are a million and one writers and authors, his works never made the grade, past would be, even proof readers.  Should he be willing to bear the expenses toward printing the first one thousand, first edition, the printing press shop was kind enough to voice him that, such rash actions would result in a fool’s folly. They were all his good friends, and in a way, not only were they refraining him from wasting his hard earned cash, but also stopping his fall from grace. Not that he had any left, he thought. He was a broken man, which ever way we look at it.

He has done much research, spending hours at a time, in libraries during week- ends, and jotted down on the other side of discarded office stationary, long and late into the night, under a candle, to economize on his electricity bill. The writings were Ko Zaw Min’s passion, and he longs to publish something that would propel him to the first division. His wife, Su Su supported his urge and would do all she could, to make him a success.

Education wise, he was quite well read. He was schooled in an English spoken environment, with a Bachelor of Arts (B.A.) in English, and also a Bachelor of Education (Bed), double degree from the University of Yangon. The parents went all out on his education, so that can secure a good paying job in life. Su Su, also got a Bed degree from the same university, but three years his junior. He met Su Su, while he tuitioned her group of friends. One thing led to another, and got married after her graduation. Her parents are from the town of Heho, Shan States. They have a small general store there, and her father dabbled in Jade, should opportunity arises. Ko Zaw Min parents were also from the Shan State, a town called Taunggyi, which is the state capital. However, they have re-settled early, in Yangon.

Su Su works for Sedona International Hotel (5 star) on Sule Pagoda Road, while Ko Zaw Min is a high school teacher in the suburb of East Dagon. Su Su, with her pleasant personality, slim and fair body, coupled with looks, has a good job with prospects and her pay is in United States Dollars. He is a high school teacher in East Dagon, a suburb of Yangon, where it is well outside the circle of schools, most likes to teach. Thus, one of his reasons for Ko Zaw Min to teach there, plus only a slender chance of being posted elsewhere.

Both, him and Su Su, have stable jobs in Yangon, where they can bring up the two young daughters in a loving home. Shifting every few years is unstable for the family, and unable to secure roots. Ko Zaw Min also tuition in the subjects of English and Mathematics to eight high school pupils in his home, and this income is much more than his salary. Tuition is done in the afternoons, after his school teaching bout. During school holidays and just before the main examination, timings are rearranged. When combined, the incomes are ample to run their household, and some months would yield savings even, which is credited into their joint account, held with Yoma Bank.  

Su Su working for Sedona International Hotel, is a plus for all of them. In addition to bringing discarded office stationary with blessing, she also manages to secure old newspapers, such as, Wall Street Journal, The Daily Telegraph, The Bangkok Post and The Straits Times and some magazines, on loan, for a few days. Old newspapers or not, its all new to him, if unread. It also helps their young daughters to get acquainted with the English language, which is much lacking in their school.  She also need not worry about transport, as their private hotel bus fetch and bring her back, up to the top of our road. Meals are also not a problem, the hotel cater lunch or dinner, depending on her shift.

Ko Zaw Min, being a high school teacher, is a servant of the state. As such, the land on which his wooden house stand is allotted by the government. The land is 40 x 40 feet and it may have been a paddy field, but the government also sells him housing materials at a discounted rate. With some additional money from their savings, plus donations from Su Su and his parents, the small house is built. 

The house is built on siltstones with hardwood (pyingadoe) beams. The height is at least ten feet from the ground level, which keeps them dry in rainy season and a place to sleep under, during very hot and dry spells. The beams and outside walls are all painted with a coat of crude oil, once a year. This may look ugly, but is good for the woodworks. No insects will eat into it, and due to the slippery nature, all creepy crawlies are kept at bay.  The crude oil is the stuff that comes straight from the ground, and is the cheapest in the market, and also readily available. 

Ko Zaw Min knew that this will be his first and last house that he builds in his life time, thus he goes for maximum best materials that he could lay his hands on, provided the price was not to too dear. He utilizes Myanmar carpenters, as they are the cheapest. Their workmanship may be a bit cruder than their Chinese counterparts, but he feels, as long as the quality of the wood is long lasting, workmanship inside is secondary. The beams were of hardwood and the rest is teak. The windows were wide, to catch maximum breeze in all seasons. All open spaces are guarded with a wire mesh, to keep any prowlers or thieves out. There were two large concrete water catchment tanks, near the bathroom and kitchen, to make good our domestic needs, plus a further metal drum in the kitchen. It is mainly to catch the rain from the roof, which is sweet, soft and clear, unlike the well water that has a certain smell and its quality is somewhat questionable. There are two bedrooms, one for the girls, and one for them. The sitting room cum dinning area cum shrine room is quite compact, with all spaces fully occupied.  The roof is of galvanized iron, however with a coat of red oxide and green paint, for sure makes it more lasting. The two trees, one mango and the other tamarind, also provide extra shade to the galvanized iron roof. This natural shade makes the house less hot, and cuts down direct droplets in the rainy season, as it becomes a second skin, sheltering us from the harsh force of the rain during monsoon. Ko Zaw Min had to be careful and prune the branches prior the rains to protect the roof. Mangoes were Ma Chit Su and not the expensive ‘one diamond’ type. Still the family could enjoy the fruits and sell the extra in the market. The tamarind is also sold, however the price was rather cheap, as bountiful in the market. Su Su, at times would prepare tamarind juice drinks to keep the family bowels in shape.

The toilet is at the corner under the tamarind tree. It is a hole about thirty feet deep meshed by bamboo and lasts for about three years. On filling up, it is recovered by earth and a new one dug, again. The route to the toilet, also built on slits with wood and galvanized iron roof, is by way of small bamboo bridge. There is no electric bulb, and is lighted with a candle and a box of matches in there, while doing one’s business. There is also a narrow bamboo bridge, from the main door of the house to the tip of the tar road, so that the girls and also the whole family need not worry, about snakes in the water in their compound. During the monsoon, the whole yard can be a sea of rain and their sturdy house is their salvation.

Everyone, in the household has a job to be fulfilled. Their daughters collect dry branches from the surrounding areas, during the dry seasons, and Ko Zaw Min would saw them into manageable pieces, and pile them by the kitchen, in a dry place. This small act might seem unnecessary to the rest of the family, but for Su Su, it cuts down the kitchen expenses, view less charcoal need be purchased. To cut down the expenses further, she normally buys charcoal blocks made from loose charcoal chips and its powder. Su Su would prepare coffee with condensed milk early in the mornings, before any of us gets up, and curry would be cooked also in the mornings or late at night, depending on her shift. Ko Zaw Min just cooks the rice and fills his own tiffin (lunch) box and eats together with a group of teachers at school. He enjoys his lunches, as at least five or six dishes that he can choose from. His young girls normally buy a plain naan each, and eat it together with coffee, before running off to school, which is about ten minutes from their house. For a change, instead of naan, they might buy sticky rice with steamed beans, from a seller who would voice out loud their delicacies, they balance on their heads in a bamboo basket. The girls are taught how to prepare rice, therefore no problem food wise, on their return from school in the afternoons.

Ko Zaw Min’s longyi is green, same colour as all pupils attending any state school. Should there be holes or the colour had run, SuSu would scissor his longyi and make school uniforms for the girls. She would deploy an old Singer sewing machine, powered by legs to stitch up her daughter clothes. The old Singer sewing machine was bought from a colleague who was hard on cash. She is the economist of the family and runs a tight household. Ko Zaw Min also have a small colour television and a DVD player, both are China made. He need not worry from being stolen, as nobody would repair, view very cheap. The motto here is buy, use and throw away. Each DVD disc is around U$0.50 and the girls are happy with their assorted cartoons and Myanmar stage shows. Due to electricity outages, especially in the dry seasons, he also got an invertor coupled with a car battery, that is good enough to watch a Korean soap opera with dubbings or sub titles in Myanmar and the local news, for about two hours. Ko Zaw Min has no say in the matter, as votes are three against one.

Ma Chaw is the younger, she is seven, and Aye Mar, the elder girl is nine. Both lovely girls and can be depended upon. They are matured for their ages and no need to push them for study. By seven o’clock, when the grandfather clock chimes, they pick up their school bags and head for the dinner table till 9 o’clock. After which, they would clean themselves and do their number one and proceeded for bed with mosquito nets fully tugged in. Ko Zaw Min would read a few pages from one of his unpublished novels, and before the chapter is out, they are both fully asleep. From this, he could tell that his novels needed something extra.

Su Su and Ko Zaw Min would talk late into the night, in the dark, when there is electricity outage. Su Su, reassured her husband that they are so lucky. They may not be in the upper echelons of middle class, but for sure in the lower middle class bracket. She told Ko Zaw Min not to always look up, but to, now and then take a peek below. There are many, too numerous to count, who are in much dire condition, and could not even dream of reaching their position in this life. So, to be content, and not to loose what they had achieved, was important. Su Su is a Sunday born and as per hororscope, she is a Garuda and thus likely to sulk at times, but not to worry! He knows that he is lucky man to win over such a girl, Su Su is first and foremost a good wife and also a good mother. She managed to keep her looks trim and slender, and after ten years of marriage, Ko Zaw Min cannot ask for more. She does not buy colognes, nor uses lipsticks, and only apply Thanakha on her lovely face. This she drills into her daughters that one need not be pretty artificially, with western cosmetics, and Thanakha would do nicely, and to follow the footsteps of mother. She sets a good example and save every Kyat and try to be always within income budget, monthly. Ko Zaw Min believes that their two daughters were enough, as such, with the help of his doctor school friend, performed a procedure on Su Su, not to bear any more children. The procedure was performed in a local hospital, near by, and it was free of charge. However, they did call upon the doctor again in the following month, to show their thankfulness and respect, with gifts. They both were relieved, that the doctor accepted.

Ko Zaw Min pilgrimage two trips a month into town. He boards a bus from East Dagon to down town, in the evenings. As the masses would be making their way back home to the suburbs, his ride on the bus is hassle free and comfortable. He alights at Sule stop, and walks over to the corner of 30^th Street and Maha Bandula Road, teashop by the pavement. There, he would meet his literacy group of friends. Mostly, there are writers and some taxi drivers at the teashop. Sometimes, he would encounter hooligans and drunkards, due to being Saturday born, a dragon by Myanmar zodiac sign, he would explode and have fights with them. He’s got battle medals of scars at the back of his head, which he covers with a lock of hair. Nowadays, he just gives them a wide berth, view his family and work is more important, they come first, everytime. He is fully aware that the police would not let him off lightly again, and could result in loss of his job. 

At the teashop, he would passionately discuss about writing, with his brother in arms, and would maneuver in his beloved society with past, present and future aspiring authors. He would listen to their talks on how success came or otherwise, with a cup of tea and pots of free green tea. At times, the group would walk up the Sule Pagoda and find a quiet spot and discuss further in earnest. The build up of characters, the twist, plot and writing styles were shared in great detail. Tit bits and current gossips, and talk of the town are all shared. He is at home with the crowd, and they would also suggest a few pointers to his writings. All much appreciated and by late evening, he would seek fellow writers to share a cab back to East Dagon. This way, the cab driver will have is fare and they also save a lot of money, with a comfortable ride back in a cool night breeze. Once in East Dagon, the walk backs are less than thirty minutes to their respective homes.

On reaching home, Ko Zaw Min would take a leisurely cool bath and continue to write his novel. He is thankful for discarded office papers on which he writes by automatic pencil. An automatic pencil is a metal pencil shell where one needs to insert the lead only. This he does, by wondering around the schoolyard and picking up discarded pencils by pupils and slicing them at home to get to the lead inside. This way, his cost of writing utensil is much less. Since Ko Zaw Min does not like crossed outs on his works, he uses an eraser on his longhand writings. He’s been thinking of buying a second hand desktop personal computer and a printer since a few years back, which will depend on what the girls want for Thingyan, they has the first choice.

This time, Ko Zaw Min is writing on the trials of an aspiring writer, with the love for his girlfriend and the need for a stable job, for constant income. He is about half way through, and thinks he would need another year to conclude his novel. He is not at all disheartened, by his past failures, and hope that he would make it this time around. Su Su still encourages him and she knows for sure, the time would come, sooner, if not later.

Tomorrow is another day.

Captain Toby Limes a.k.a. Bitters

My grandfather was a trawling man from Grimsby, Lincolnshire on the North East coast of England. They trawl what they can get, usually mackerel. His name was Jonathan Limes, a trawler skipper of length overall (loa) 36 meters and under 50 gross registered tons (grt), six years old ship. He and my grandmother, Heather O’Brian, together with their only son, immigrated to United States in 1924 after selling their red brick two storey terrace house at no.221 Tennyson Street, near Freshney River. He also sold his prize possession trawler ship, ‘ Lady Luck ’, and wired the proceeds to a San Francisco Bank.  They settled down in Contra Costa county, where the weather was kinder and brought up their son, Jonathan (junior) aged four, there.

My father, Jonathan Limes (jr), married Lucile Mitty, my mother, in 1943 and moved to northern California, where he found work in red abalone fishing, as a skipper. My parents, being god fearing people, christened me Toby, meaning god is good, when I was born in 1963. Father was just twenty years old and mother, just eighteen, believe they started early, with no knowledge of contraception.  


We settled down in #7928 Winggate Drive, Sunnyvale, Oakland, and graduated from Freemont High School also in Sunnyvale, Saratoga Road, in the year of 1979. The school was just bearable, and grew up with the music of Elvis Presley, Beatles and Dire Straits etc. etc. Being from a trawling family, and did not like the business, I joined the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis in the same year, as a plebe, just to be within the sea going tradition. The college was far from home, in the state of Maryland, but was proud to be in the nominated 1300 places available there, for the whole country. My four main reasons for applying to Annapolis was, number one, the tuition for the four years will be borned by the government, number two, a recognized Bachelor of Science (BSc) will be forth coming after four year, number three, lodging and meals are fully taken care of, and last but not least, number four, this will be my ticket out from drugs, guns and petty crime. Our minds then, were so perceptible to persuasion from the wrong crowd.

In that summer of 1979, I was an eager plebe, ready for the grueling four years. Since from my first term there, I was yet again, christened as ‘Bitters’, by my seniors and the lecturing staff, due to my mouth on behalf of the company on matters relating to reprimand punishment and liberty. They felt that my comments went further than just being sour, thus my nick- name ‘Bitters’ glued ever since. However, anchored in my mind once and for all, was to obey. Do it and be done with.

Some of my weekends, liberty was spent doing extra cleaning and exercises, true to college tradition. There were girls at Annapolis, some actually, quite nice looking. Yes, looking was as far as it went, as any irregularities can mean packing my bags and be expelled. That, not so nice and my pride can be down the drain.  Should I desire any comfort, the only way was to relieve myself with the ladies of the night. Safer there! I kept no regular girlfriend, as I wanted to be free as a bird and fly to all branches around the port of calls. I kept within the regulations, at all times and to be gray like our uniforms. In the summer of 1983, I graduated with my class. From the class of 1979, I came in fifth, counting backwards from the bottom. It did not deter me, as graduation was the main thing, Winston Churchill was not too bright in school, either. Father was 42 and mother was 40 and my younger sister Virginia, 19, looked so pretty. I hope she will get a good husband, who will shower her with love. All four of us celebrated, with a pint of bitter each, in an Irish pub, and a hearty meal at Dolly’s Diner afterwards.

Some of my classmates joined the Marine Corp as second Lieutenants, happy with a single silver bar on each collar. As for me, I opted to be commissioned as an Ensign and joined the Navy. My first ship was a Frigate of the FFG-7 class, with 29 splashed on the bow. I served over a year onboard as an Ensign, and was later transferred to Pearl Harbour Naval Dockyard with a promotio and also served onboard cyclone class-patrol ship, USS Hurricane PC-3. For a period of two years, I was attached to the Naval Fleet Auxiliary Force, USNS Supply (T-AOE-6), where I learnt the operations of a merchant ship, which I thoroughly enjoyed, more than the workings of a warship. After 15 years in the Navy, I resigned my commission as a Commander, also having a Master Mariner License in my hands, in 1998.

Just before leaving the navy, I bought a small house at #37142 Orrville Avenue, in Hidden Hills, California, with the money my parents sold their house at Oakland, and the funds I saved while serving, plus U$12,000/- borrowed from my girlfriend. I wanted my parents to retire gracefully in a nice residential area, with no worries and can put their feet up. After all, they are above seventy and with Joe-Johns, my year old Rottweiler dog, I felt pretty safe. At least, this much I owe them.

My girlfriend name is Sonia Silverman, is of Jewish faith by birth, however, a free thinker today. She’s a vegetarian when able to, otherwise is totally game, not to spoil any event. A happy go lucky girl, not too serious in any faith, except of her own endeavors. I was around 26 years of age when I met her in a Los Angles school, while doing a Navy recruitment program for a few days there. She was 21, a kindergarten teacher. Fair, with long brown hair (natural), slim, boobs were just enough, 5 feet 8 inches in height and blue eyes. Very pleasant personality, and sophisticated, which I cannot give it a miss. Since then, we have been going steady.

In 1992, I married Sonia. I was 29 and she was 24, and now, lives together with us in Hidden Hills and commuting to her Los Angles school, with her old Honda Civic. Mum and Dad drive my Jeep station wagon, when there is a need for an outing. She watches over them and they on her. All working out rather nicely, don’t you think?

That same year, in the autumn of 1998, I joined the American President Lines (APL), which is wholly owned by Neptune Orient Lines (NOL), Singapore, with over 150 vessels. My usual contract is 6 months on, 3 months off with half salary. I choose to sail on American flagged vessel where possible, on account of better pay and conditions.

Today, I am the master of APL Ningbo, 90488dwt container ship with a maximum of 8540 teus loadable. The route is Los Angles to the Far East and back. With a total compliment of 24, all are in their right, experts on their jobs. Even though, officially I am Captain Toby Limes, my nickname ‘Bitters’ still lingered on, afloat and ashore, and by friends and foe alike. The ship of this size is a big reasons-ability and my time of six months afloat is always fully utilized, rest time being sleeping period only.

Even though I am a Captain, I travel very lightly, this is my habit since my navy days. My luggage, consisted of a duffel bag and a backpack only. I carry no suits, nor fancy shoes, only what is necessary on-board. The contents are usually 2 sets of khaki pants and matching shirts, a set of Blues and white uniforms, 6 under pants, 6 pair of socks (3 khakis plus 3 blacks), 6 white cotton tee shirts, 2 white shirts, a white boiler suit, Black tie, shoulder rank pads, peak cap, khaki, white and black canvas belts and toiletries plus a blue Blazer and gray pants. All fitted neatly into my duffel bag. The photo stands of my parents and Sonia plus Joe-Johns goes into my backpack with other necessary papers and documents plus 2 sets of reading glasses, a laptop and some necessary medications. Warm clothing’s are supplied by the ship plus working shoes, thus lightens my load.

Like the housework, ship’s work is never done. There is always something outstanding, to be completed. I balance my time on-board, with bridge, on deck, entry and departure formalities, cargo (containers), paperwork, P and I and Class Survey matters. With only 24 souls on-board, cleaning of cabin, washing and ironing of clothes are be fended by myself. No easy task, I assure you. 

The common comment on-board, should something require to be clarified is ‘Ask Bitters, he will know’. For them, the Captain is a walking dictionary and a computer with prompt answers and remedies. I try to command the same ship after each tour, as I will be no more green, with her equipments and particulars. It’s more automatic and my brain need not worry on that.

While everything is important for every voyage, it is also imperative the safety of the containers in my charge and the vessel keep its schedule.  Our APL has a contract with Applied Weather Technology Inc (AWT), for them to regularly furnish safest and most economical route to our destinations. Our ship prime mover can supply 16 knots and a bit more, but we maintain 13 knots, unless called upon to meet the schedule. With advance schedule published, businesses are concluded and connections to feeders are made and slots reserved. It’s a question of money every time. Unless the customers are satisfied, our services can become redundant. The Engineers knows this, and the navigators must meet the schedules every time. We chart the safest and economical courses, and try to avoid the bad weather, with data from AWT. With about 3 knots under our belts, we give no reasons to our head office for not meeting the published schedule. The Chief Engineer tries his level best for nil breakdown every voyage. Ships on average are pretty new and the oldest about 9 years only. Maintenance is planned for, whilst the ship is in port. Berths are gantries are also arranged in advance and pre-planning for everything under the sun is made. Time is money and money is time, with a first class service, always! Almost nobody request for shore liberty while on 6 months on-board service. We never forget that customers have a choice.

Container lashing is checked every watch and we pay special attention to reefer boxes, recording temperatures also into our logbooks. Reefer boxes are one of the premium freight earners, and on-board electrician is just a hand away should attention be required. Water tightness of hatch covers are also important and regularly checked, more so, during bad weather. I make it a point to also crawl into the bulges, making sure no holes are spotted. The carpenter, do take soundings at least twice a day, however nothing beats scrutinizing their jobs. My personal daily rounds on our containers, in addition to checking every watch, does not harm anybody. All our senses are kept wide awake, and any smell,  leakage or out of the ordinary is reported to our office promptly, together with container number, row and height.

The distance to Los Angeles to Shanghai is about 1679 miles, which means about 20 days at sea, and this allows me to get the APL Ningbo ship shape. All water- tight doors and portholes needs maintenance. This time at sea, allows the Chief Officer and boswain to do necessary repairs, where needed. This is a class survey item, thus better to get it done, before the next survey is due. Work on deck is also not overlooked, necessary chipping and repainting is carried out. As much as possible, all repairs and maintenance are all performed by ship’s crew at sea, minimizing costs for shore contractors. On wet days, while the Chief Officer and his team are working inside the superstructure, I do my paperwork, checking all the trading certificates are in order, together with P and I and Class Inspection items. I try to keep a clean sheet and to avoid any recommendations.

Not forgetting the 3^rd Mate, I make sure, lifeboats and its necessary list of items in them are kept up to date, and renew any items that had expired.  The lifeboat engines are run and tested weekly with the Engineers also. They all, knows that ‘Bitters’ run a tight ship. I do side with the under privileged, and voice out concerns to the head office. The office feels that I do not have an overview and see the large picture, thus, ‘Bitters’ again, by them.

In addition to lifeboats, life rafts, lifebuoys, life jackets etc. etc., so much attention to be given to. Besides, bridge navigational aids, radars and CO2 systems and what not, I have my hand in every pie and ‘Bitters’ are the words they would cry out loud. On a calm day, I make sure the helm is on autopilot and the quartermaster together with the officer on watch are doing something useful, instead of just watching the open sea. I check the helm together with the automatic chart display is on course, every few minutes. As much as possible, nothing is left to chance. During approaches at night, my Captain’s cabin would be the pilot’s cabin, resting my tired eyes and catching a few winks where possible. I trust the officers, however I just want to be made available at all times. Something drastic and we all can go to jail for a long time, which is most undesired. 

Food is one thing, that is plentiful and good. I sample the officers and crew chow daily. Our Officers saloon is mainly buffet style, take what you want, as much as you want. However, as we also have to watch our health and our bodies, consumption is thought out with care. Need to be fit, climbing seven or eight flight of stairs, numerous times daily is the barometer.

‘Stan’ our Chief Engineer is also an ex- naval engineering officer. He is a wee bit older than me, and was an ex-submariner. Thus, he knows a lot about working in an enclosed space. We like each other, and can share a few jokes now and then. His engine room is always spick and spam, and all machinery and its auxiliaries are also in top form. Engineers keeps it this way to their Chief’s level of acceptance, otherwise, they can expect a ride together with the agent at the next port of call. All Engineer Officers cabins are also kept clean at all time, as they can expect a few words, not too kindly to their ears from the Chief. He would start with‘ cleanliness is next to godliness ‘ , the next part is too strong to be published. They are further advised to have their meals in the saloon fully attired, and not in boiler suits or in their singlet. My Deck Officers are always to be uniformed, in accordance with the standing order, akin with me.

Ships nowadays are equipped with internet, and all are on their laptops during their free time. I also talk with my parents and Sonia when available, otherwise I send them both an email daily, and can expect the same from them. My salary is about U$120,000/- yearly, out of which I credit U$3000/-  to my pop’s account, and also pay back U$2000/- monthly to Sonia’s account. On top of that, I give Sonia U$3000/- monthly as running expenses for our home. If any balance, I save it in my account for a rainy day. I think I have about U$2000/- left, to make good to Sonia. Her loan was a great help, otherwise the house in Hidden Hills would have to be bought with a high bank interest.

My bonus got nothing to do with any of them.

Analogy on Beauty

 

We, the human beings (people) can, at times, are so vain. The perception we have of the past, present and also the future are all measured or gauged in one form or other. They are either, termed and categorized as bad, negative and ugly or should it be pleasing, can be positive, good or beautiful.   Indecently,  ‘ Beauty ‘ is defined in dictionaries as a combination of qualities, such as shape, colour and form, which pleases our aesthetic senses. In short, what we desire is beautiful and on the other side of midnight, should we so disagree, its ‘ugly’ or ‘bad’. This really, is all a question of perception. We write about it, view, sing, taste, feel and even voice out our senses.

Can we really say, that our ‘aesthetic senses’ are our own, or nudged a bit, in one form or another? I reserve my doubts on this. Take for example, a simple fruit, our baby senses may have told us that we don’t want it, but our mother may have influenced our young mind, by voice or act, that it’s really nice and we would like it, thus we eat, in the end. Likewise, the painter, Sandroa Botticelli, according records tell us, that his painting on canvas ‘the birth of Venus’ (1446-1448), emerging from the sea, was ideally proportioned, as her distance between the nipple and navel, between the two legs and between the navel and the groin are equal, thus performing a harmoniously figure. In short, good and positive.  The painting hang today in Uffizi gallery in Florence, Italy. Most of us seem to agree, and, thus, it is a work of art. I am not arguing whether the painter’s comments were just or not, just pointing out the masses perception, which played with our own.

Cleopatra Vll Philopator (Late 69 BC-August 12, 30 BC), better known to us, as just plain ‘Cleopatra’, was supposed to be so beautiful, apparently married her own brothers, Ptolemy Vlll and Ptolemy XlV, and had an intimate liaison with Julius Caesar, and bore him a son, Caesarion.  After his assignation in 44 BC, also married again with Mark Antony. This union bore them twins, named Cleopatra Selene ll and Alexander Helios, plus another son later on, named, Ptolemy Philadelphus.   She married her own brothers as per existing Egyptian  custom, so it was written, which bored no children. Strangely enough, history tells us that, she was Greek, of Ptolemaic dynasty, and official documents were thus kept both in Greek and Egyptian. However, Cleopatra did speak Egyptian, and presented herself as recantation of an Egyptian goddess, Isis.  So, how beautiful can this woman (queen) be? After so many marriages, and bearing, at least four children (that we know of), I wonder how she could have maintained her lustrous figure. My grandmother, had less children and fewer husbands, had big sagging boobs to her naval and a large tummy, able to contest any beer stomach. Must be the genes. According to Plutarch (AD 46 – AD 120), a Greek historian and biographer, Cleopatra was said to be attractive in her wit and sweetness in her voice and tone, while Cassius Dio (AD 155 – AD 235), a Roman council and historian wrote of her as ‘with surpassing beauty, in the prime of her youth, striking with a most charming of her voice and possessed a knowledge, how to make herself agreeable with everyone, brilliant to look upon, and to listen to, with the power to subjugate everyone’. She was around 22, when she met Julius Caesar, 54. So, my dear friends, I leave Cleopatra’s beauty to your better judgment. I have no valid views to think otherwise, should I be blessed with another life, I will for sure check her out, however, I may not be able to give my two cents worth, as I also may be magnetized to her.

World War l (1914-1918), resulted in 37 million casualties, being the deadliest conflict, till then, human history. Out of the said figure, 10 million were military personnel, who gave up their lives, mostly in trenches.  Furthermore, notice not too many write-ups on, over 70,000 deaths from India, the highest from the British Empire, second only to the British themselves. I do not recall, much being said of the Indian deaths. All wars, are ugly, this one tops it. The deaths of the Indians, should have had more coverage, in my opinion, we owe it to them. After all, this was not their war as such, and yet, they all laid down their lives for the good of the Empire. One death is already one too much. Credit ought to be given where due, this is bad, really very bad.

Second Word War (1939- 1945), cost over 60 million people to be killed and the deadliest military conflict to date. The figure varies up to 80 million, by some estimates.  The war wiped out 2.5% of the world’s population. This was another ugly war. Germany under Hitler with his Third Reich (Nazi) party, aimed to conquer all of Europe, and the Japanese to carve the East under General Tojo. Thank god for the Allies, as this plan was not materialized.  Plans for wiping off the Jews, from this earth, by Germany was a big blunder. Even then, believe 5.5 to 6 million Jews, were slaughtered by the Nazis. I believe this was a very big mistake. After all, Jews in Germany and other European Countries were legal citizens, helping the economy grow, and also being one of a catalyst towards their growth. Look at Israel today, surrounded by Arab neighbors, still surviving and a force to be reckoned with. This is beauty amongst thongs.  

When we look at some of the authors and writers, I discovered that while there was beauty in their works, their personal life was a tragedy.  Mark Twain,      (1835-1910), famous American writer, titles included, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The Great American Novel was a broken man, even though he earned pots of money from his books, but lost it all in business ventures, investments and publishing houses. He was awarded an honorary doctorate (DLitt), by the Oxford University in 1907 for his works and died of a heart attack. He did not enjoy the money he made.

Should we look at Dylan Thomas (1914-1953), a Welsh poet and writer, his works included, ‘and death shall have no dominion’, ‘ Before I knocked’, ‘The force that through the green fuse drives the flower’, ‘Portrait of the artist as a young dog (1940)’ and ‘the map of love’ was a drinking man. He also encouraged himself, to be ‘roistering, drunken and doomed poet’. He found it hard, to make a living as a writer, which he supplemented with tour reading and broadcasts, on the BBC. Although died of pneumonia, he was a very sick man (no liver damage) with bouts of blackouts and not too well with money either. Even though, left school at 16, he has been acknowledged, as one of the most import Welsh poets of the 20^th Century. Great!  However, rather sad.

 Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961), Pulitzer prize winner of 1953, was an American author and journalist, penned works such as ‘ Farewell to Arms’, ‘For Whom the Bells Toll’, ‘The Sun Also Rises’, ‘Old Man and the Sea’ and many, more which we are familiar with. He published seven novels, six short stories collection and two non-fictions during his lifetime, and more posthumously. Married four times, also once a resident of Florida and Cuba, shot himself at the age of sixty one in Idaho, USA. A producer of beautiful works, and it seemed such a waste.

It seems to me, beauty is somewhat associated with unpleasantness somewhere, not always, but more often than not. Even William Shakespeare (1564-1616), our evergreen English poet, playwright and actor, who died at the age of 54, was shrouded in controversial after his demise.

I wonder why was that?

Some of us would comment that our sweetheart is as beautiful as Mona Lisa. Some sang and wrote about her. If I recalled, the painter, Leonardo da Vinci never said his painting was beautiful. It was famous for her mystic smile, the monumental composition and modeling pose, the background and the placing of her hands. The light that glows on her breasts, neck and face were the same light that models her hands. Her portrait, oil on canvas, now hangs in The Louvre, Paris. Today, beauty is somewhat associated with Mona Lisa. How time can do so much.

Some wrote that an ‘Ideal beauty’ is an entity, which is admired, or possesses features widely attributed to beauty in a particular culture, for perfection. In the realm of Christianity, during the period of gothic architecture, light was considered the most revelation of god. As such, Rayonnant rose window, in the Norte Dame, in Paris was said to be a creation of beauty. In the era of Renaissance, Florence Cathedral and dome are said to be in harmony, symmetry and of correct proportions were considered essential elements of universal beauty. Furthermore, the standing nude statute of David, by Michelangelo in the Accademia Gallery in Florence, sculptured in marble is said to be a work of art also. Please do go and view!

It is said that ‘The Himba’ are the most beautiful people in Africa. They are a nomadic tribe from the Kaokoland area in Namibia. They wear little clothes, except for a lion’s cloth or goat skinned mini-skirt. They rub their skin with red  ochre and fat to protect against the penetrating sun, and also give them the appearance of red rich colour look. As per their tradition, Himba women, are  noted for their intricate hairstyles and traditional jewelry.

In some areas of Africa, for beauty, they would cut themselves and design works of art on their bodies, just to be more attractive. Thank god, this culture did not crossed over from Africa. How people sacrifice pain for beauty, I will never know.

So, Beauty is also an individual sense of aesthetic, depending on culture and location and much, much more.

In Myanmar, my country, the application of Thanakha, on ladies face is a thing of beauty, used since over 2000 years ago. Not only are they pleasing to the eyes, the light aroma is so sweet and appealing, that would put European colognes to shame, no matter how expensive they are.  The Thanakha act also as a sun block, and sweat are soaked into its application, and can also control body odor. This is a fact, scientifically tested by western companies. The application of Thanakha,  on  body has been in existence throughout our history and first recorded in a 14^th century poem. This can be found also in border areas of surrounding countries. However, Thanakha is more pronounced in Myanmar. The Thanakha paste or cream can be got, by grinding the dried Thanakha bark on a stone slab or tablet with a little water. This stone slab or tablet is a must for any lady, stored in bath or dressing areas. The Thanakha bark is from a tree by the same name and only cut after 35 years. It is abundantly grown in central Myanmar, with Shwebo and Shinmyadaung Thanakhas being more famous. Nowadays, it also now come in the form of pasted block for ease of usage.

In conclution, I believe as the old saying ‘ Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder ‘. I wish only to add, beauty also depends on culture, tradition and location. As my essay, beauty is rather a general term and can be shaped depending on circumstances and what we want to see.

Beauty, in the tribal lands, locations and definition may influence our aesthetic senses.

Good luck!

 

Private taxi driver

I am a private taxi driver in Yangon, not by choice, but rather of necessity. Life can be so unkind, and cruel is my luck in everything that I do. The difference between a normal Taxi (cab), and ours that I drive, are the number plates. The number plate of a normal taxi is red, whereas ours is black. The red number plated cars are registered with the city municipality and its drivers are also with applicable licenses, as such, are authorized to drive them accordingly. However, there is no meter, as customers prefer to bargain the fare, rather then by meter, which is more expensive, due to long waits on the roads on account of heavy traffic. Their automobiles display a taxi sign, which also can be lighted for night driving. Our car is a private automobile, meant for private use, thus an ordinary driving license is sufficient. In short, I would be breaking the law, should I canvas or do business with our car, besides, I don’t pay any taxes, as such either.

We are a sibling of four, all three elder sisters are residing abroad. One is in London, working as an accountant for a bookkeeper and the remaining two are in California, USA. The eldest sister is a doctor by profession and work at Los Angles General, while the next in line is a florist, in Orange County. Legally, they are still singles, and each sends U$100/- monthly, through the back door. This about covers our monthly vitualling, which is in no way extravagant.  As being the youngest and male by birth, my mother looks after me. My parents named me, Maung Aye Myat, loosely translated as precious quiet boy. Dad passed away donkey years ago, due to tuberculosis. I am twenty four years of age with no profession, as such. We live in a district of North Okkalarpa, in a teak, two stories house with no air conditioning.  To have a sense of self dignity, and work to keep me occupied, my mother bought a twelve years old Toyota Mark ll sedan, after pawning her ear rings and selling her necklace, which I drive as a private taxi. 

I do hold a Bachelor of Science (BSc) degree in Chemistry, however, jobs are hard to come by, maybe that I do not have the right connections at the right places. I did try to have a girl friend while at university, in fact, I approached about seven girls during my four years, regretfully but to no avail. I was quite close to two girls, one from the Philosophy Department and the other was reading English. They all turned me down, talking with the eyes saying that I was out of their league. After my disastrous attempts, I stopped fishing, time better spent playing football and the guitar with my friends. I was no angel and in no way allergic to women, my first encounter with a call girl was during the end of term holidays, cost of which was equally shared between my friends. After that, enjoyment of the flesh, did continue now and then, but since the costs were piling up and unhealthy, I discontinued my urge. I had to work long hours at a slipper shop during weekends to pay back, which does not seem worth while. 

My mother is seventy three years of age, and I wanted her to retire comfortably at home or in California. With her heart and arthritis condition, she continued to cook and do the household chores. That was not right for such an old woman, to still undergo such a hard life.  If she felt there was time, she would also clear the leaves and broom the yard too. She loves me dearly and I was still her young boy that requires attention. As it also saddened me to see her work, therefore I would do the morning marketing, wash my own clothes, mop the floors, water the flower pots and also sweep the yard, when I’m not driving. I also love her dearly and made it a point to tug her in, after her nightly prayers in the shine room.

I would also massage her tiring legs and hands at night, which she liked and would say, " Sadu, sadu, sadu ", loosely translated, ‘good, good, good’. 

I would try and spend more time with her by talking and joking, so that she forgets her illness.

I do my private driving business, in other areas of Yangon, to avoid the local police and the long arm of the law. My main contact point is our telephone, and backed up by my mobile phone. I have a niche set of customers, preferring piece meal contracts, at a time. If not driving on business, I would drive my mum to pagodas, monasteries and meditation centers. I also do find solace there, however, there is also money to be earned to keep us going. No matter how busy I might be, I make it a point to accompany her for the doctor’s appointments. There is nothing more important, than her continued good health.

My working hours are governed by my work, with no set timing.  I take a tiffin (lunch) box from home to maximize my income. The money I earned are all handed back to my mom less expenses, such as petrol, maintenance and tea (maybe). My customers are a varied lot, about six regular customers a month. There is a construction company that uses me to distribute salaries to their different work sites, it entails me to drive them to their bank, where large amounts are drawn every third week of the month and be distributed. My car boot smells of stale cash loads, which I air during weekends. The accountant at times would disappear into tea houses, and I ensured not a single cent goes missing.  The construction company knows this and thus uses my private taxi regularly. There is a director of a pharmaceutical company, that likes to be driven to their customers on a regular basis and taking them to dinners, and at times, also drive them to clubs where hostesses would entice their customers, with extra curriculum activities. I also drive the hostesses a few days in a month, to their clients. I give no moral judgments, after all, my private taxi driving is not within the law, either. I also ferry six middle school pupils from their houses to school and fetch them back, into the bosom of their mothers. Four girls are seated at the back with two boys in front. The difference between a ferry and me is, I offer more of a personal service.  My private taxi, offers a more dignified service to my clients, who are able to go about their business, as if the car belongs to them. I also make one or two trips to Naypyidaw (capital), which consisted of three to four days continuous assignment, yielding a lumpsum income. All in all, about fifteen to seventeen days full employment in a month. Income, not too bad, for a twenty four years old, hoping the next year would be the same. In my spare time, I also tuition, a young lad by the name of Min Min, from two streets down, at our home, to be more by my mom’s side. Besides, also need to do maintainace on our car. Min Min is fifteen years old and need to get good marks in his ninth standard and matriculation examination. The matriculation is similar to General Certificate of Education (GCE) from Britain. He is well aware that his matriculation marks will decide whether he will get a worthy profession or otherwise. I am more at home with mathematics, physics and chemistry, which was what Min Min needed, for free.

One evening in August, as the monsoon rains were quite heavy, drove Min Min to his house, two streets down the road. I was pleasantly surprised to see his other sister, she is slim, fair, reasonably good looking, young, with (nearly) all the right measurements and well read.

Min Min sheepishly commented that, " She usually spend most of her time at the hostel, and just about the complete her Bachelor of  Education Degree (Bed)."

This was all music to my ears. Only at this moment, did I surveyed about his family. Parents were retired, gold merchants from Magway, a town on the banks of the Irrawaddy River, about 331 miles north from Yangon by road. One sister is married with one kid. Now, the other sister, just about to enter the real world, must get to know her better. I dropped Min Min, and with a straight face drove back home, while my heart was a merry go round and beating like a drum.

Seasons passed, after many moons, I was still driving my private taxi. However, Min Min did pass his Ninth Standard Examination with distinctions in Mathematics and Physics, which pleased me. His matriculation examination results were even more impressive, with not only distinctions in Mathematics and Physics, he got more distinctions, in English and Additional Mathematics also. With four distinctions (4Ds), he could be studying engineering at university. Must be the excellent tutoring.

I never did ask about his ‘other sister’, but I would like to know her better. One early morning, I saw her in the traditional green longyi, waiting for a bus in front of our house.

I was in our car and shouted, " I’m on my way to the petrol station, may I drop you somewhere?"

I was pleased she accepted by approach by her return comment,       " That’s nice of you, I’m on my way to school."

With that she stepped into the front passenger seat. I continued " Where to? "

 She said, " Tarmwe No.1 High School,  I got a job as a teacher for the Ninth Standards."

I was pleasantly pleased by the aroma of Thanakhar on her, not only did it smelled nice, she looked so sweet.

Starring in front, she continued, " My name is Tin Tin Than, Friday born, a bit talkative."

I replied by, " My name is Maung Aye Myat, Thursday born and an only son of Daw Htwe."

We both laughed and on getting off she commented, " Thank you for the ride and thank you very much for tutoring Min Min."

I could not let this opportunity pass, thus countered, " No problem, however, your thank you is not enough. Will you join me for a movie and a meal, Saturday evening okay?"

She smiled, before parting she replied, " Depends on you, why don’t you pick me up Saturday evening, say 6.30 p.m.? " With that, she walked gracefully into the school.

Saturday evening went well. I was glad that I was not working.  We had a meal of roast chicken with roti parata, in the only Indian food outlet in Chinatown. We talked so much that movie went out of the window. A lot to learn and catch up on. She fascinated me and captured my heart and she would do very nicely, fit into our household like a glove. I need someone that can be trusted on, while I drive my private taxi. She is now twenty two and found her to be well matured for her age. I did not even try to hold her hand as I did not want her to be frightened and run away forever. I took her back about 10.30p.m. like a true gentleman, however did express that seeing her again would be nice.

From then on, I made it a point to fill up my tank early mornings, while driving her to school. At long last, I did identify that she would be the one for me. We also could convert the extra room downstairs, to be a bedroom for Min Min, should he wish to stay with us. He still comes around, a lot actually, in the daytime and watch over mother, which pleased me. Likewise, Tin Tin Than also made a point to spend time with my mother, during her school holidays. Not only did she helped in the kitchen, but also did the washing and ironing of clothes. Ironing required the use of charcoal, as electricity is at times can be lacking. Tin Tin Than mastered this and would massage my mother’s frail arms and legs in the afternoons.

Mother liked this kind act and would call her " Daughter ", which pleased all, including me.

Saturday and Sundays were for housework and maintenance of the car. Toyota Mark ll sedan is a sturdy automobile. The suspensions were strong and engine powerful with six cylinders can uphold the air conditioning plus gives a smooth ride. The trade off was the petrol consumption was higher compared to a four cylinder car. This was worth it, as all customers stayed loyal. The car is always kept tiptop as this being the money earner, and I made sure all is sparkling, before it slept in the garage. The old engine oil were kept aside, and I would apply this to the outside woodworks ensuring no wood insects would eat into them. It looked a wee bit ugly, but definitely good for the wood, especially as can withstand the yearly strong monsoon rains. I do this application every two years. The roof were made of clay tiles, thus no need for upkeep. It was cool during the hot season and was also rain tight in monsoons. All thanks to dad, who built our house with much foresight.

North Okkalapa is not the posh residential area of Yangon, however, with the scarcity of land, this part of Yangon is also sought after, as not too far from down town and talks of being also the second town area of Yangon. Whether good area or not, we have no intention of selling, as we have nowhere else to live, after all, this is our home.

I did sounded, Tin Tin Than one morning while on route to school, that I would be happy for her hand in marriage.

The reply I got was, " Ask my parents, I would do as per their consent."

In her round about way, I think she meant ‘yes’. Most surprising thing she said was " I would like to open a gold shop/works and also have a mokehingar stall to cater for the morning crowds."

This would be good, as it meant mother could now rest her frail legs.

I first approached Min Min and enquired whether there would be any reservations on his part, should I ask for his sister hand in marriage.

He smiled broadly and said, " Will it mean living here, I would love that."

Min Min indicated that should he get a place at the Yangon Institute of Engineering (YIT), he would prefer to read civil engineering and on passing out in six years time, work for a construction company in Yangon, where the pay would be good. Not really interested to join the defense force, join the public works or Irrigation Departments as do not wish to leave Yangon. He was happy here.

I must make it a point and go together with mother to see Tin Tin Than’s parents one evening, and officially ask them for their daughter’s hand in marriage. In our Myanmar way, this is the right thing to do. Should not be much difficulty.

Meantime, also checked with Mr. Chong Lee, the pawn shop owner, that mother’s ear rings and necklace were still there. He confirmed that all were still with him, which I intend to buy back, after all, this was mother’s gift from her parents when she got married.

I also must seek mother’s permission, whether a small gold shop cum works can be built beside our garage with a small moak-hin-gar stall attached, as our compound faces the main road, by the bus stops, and walking distance from the market. I have never herd of a gold shop going broke. After all, Tin Tin Than knows the business well and should be a piece of cake for her.  

Immm, must write to my sisters, soon.

Greying, yet schooled again

At the age of over sixty two, no one really want to be friends with you, after all this is well over the retiring age, anywhere in the world. Thus, I was doing things of my fancy, of any flavor or at any place, before kicking the bucket. At such an age, cooler and dryer weather is favorable, but not too cold, mind you. My better half would prefer me to be more religious, and join her, hand in hand, in meditation centers or chant religious scriptures. Should I be not up to it yet, schooling by monks and be taught righteousness would be preferred.  Me? I am still thinking about my wife’s suggestion. To be or not to be, that is the question.

In Yangon, the month of May was dry and hot, as such I retreated to Taunggyi, a town up north in the Shan States, Myanmar, where the weather was kinder, cooler and dry. The average temperature hovers in the twenties centigrade, as about 4700 feet above sea level, and with a population around 300,000 souls, is rather a nice place to be at.  Not too crowded.

There, my morning routine was a walk for one and half hours, after which I would visit a small stall of my choice for a bowl of Shan noodles with chicken and hurry back to our rented house and be humbled by my wife, on the things she would like to do for that day. Mind you, it was always something that I needed, and nothing of her wishes. As I always fail and be on the loosing side, protests or comments became unnecessary. She was never wrong on any count, which recalled my mother’s words, ‘ King can do no wrong ‘.

On that morning in question, while I was enjoying my bowl of Shan noodles, a man around fifty on the same table commented, " Dear Sir, good morning to you. I also enjoy Shan noodles, they are good and nothing like this in    Yangon." 

I agreed by nodding and said, " Yes."

He then continued in a matter of fact manner, " Should you like traveling around the region, please make it a point and see Ms. Simmons at the British Council in Yangon within two months, the pay is good for the job and travel is for free, and please do keep this conversation under wraps, whether you wish to undertake or otherwise."

That was rather strange, I had never seen him before nor bumped into him ever again. My stay at Taunggyi continued and did not return to Yangon till I got wind that the rains has arrived there.

This strange coincidence,  lingered in the back of my mind and decided to make a call on Ms Simmons, just for the fun of it. Yangon, in July was raining hard, monsoon was on time, at least the rice fields will not be thirsty and the next rice harvest should be bountiful. The British Council was annexed to their embassy and was a well known place of learning and reading in the city. I called upon the Council around 1500hours, on a Tuesday to avoid the library crowds. I asked for Ms. Simmons at the counter and was directed to the second floor. There, I asked again for Ms. Simmons.

The Burmese lady muttered, "That would be Maureen Simmons, Reference section, one moment please."

I expected a young, fat lass from the north. Instead I was shocked to find Ms. Maureen Simmons to be black, with a cockney accent, around forty who directed me to a small room, with a single table and a chair. 

She smiled and said, " This small room is meant for our more serious researcher."

And she continued, " Thank you for your calling on us, should you be interested in our position, the job calls for a courier or ‘post man’ delivering and collecting papers in South East Asia region, right up to the Far East. At times, it may include the Americas and Europe, but rather rarely."

I nudged her on by saying, " Please, do continue." 

She smiled and said, " The payments will always be in local currency, cash, and the work is not too dangerous, the period of employment will be up to the age of seventy two. Should you be in agreement, I will train you here for three months and another three months will be in Singapore.  All will be made known to you in due course if you are taking the job, otherwise we can call it a day." 

Very business like, however, I could not resist taking a shot at her by adding, " Not a very dignified method of recruiting, would you not agree? "

Ms. Simmons, still smilingly rocketed back, " Your right to say what you may, but this type of business is very hush, hush and I can even tell you a thing or two about yourself and your parents that you are not aware of."

That last statement put be back in my corner. After a more dignified conversation, I sealed the contract by saying, " I’ll take it."

Her smiling stopped and seriously commented, " We’ll start coming Monday, 0830hours to 1130hours, five days a week, you may rest weekends and needless to point out that this is all hush, hush, even to your family, or anyone else for that matter."

Come Monday morning 0830hours, my training began in earnest, more correctly a long series of lectures, which required no pen or paper. Abundantly clear from the onset was the work was to be done alone and not to expect any help or assistance from any quarters. Furthermore, I am to always to remain gray and unnoticed even by the family, and to always blend in with the crowd. Unnoticed and being stealth was the name of the game and observation was ninety percent of the work and to be alert on matters outstanding and different. Every now and then, I was fired with questions to make sure I have grasped the subject at hand. No examinations or homework’s, but rather taxing on my mind. I started all this and intend to finish it.

Finding a parking space near the Council was like playing the lottery. The winning ticket was always illusive.  At times, I just felt double parking like all the others, then I remembered to be ‘gray’, thus parked in Bo Aung Kyaw Street near the main post office building. This was within the law, however, meant seven minutes extra walk and not so comfortable in the pouring rain. This might be another test by her, whatever, I was now more aware of everything. Checking, double-checking, staying quiet seems the way of life and also lost my matter of fact opinion. Always checking, ever listening, dressing just enough in line with the day, I even changed by glasses and slippers, just to be akin with the masses. Each lecture teaches you something different, how to speak, how to strike a conversation, and how to win confidence over others. The lessons were more psychological and the things one ought to know just to be a postman was just mind boggling.  To think that this was just the first three months, I shudder to think about the next three months in Singapore.

I also wondered how long they might have had a tail on me without my knowledge. How many people had gone through the mill, I am sure there must be others like myself, but the training was me alone. Questions abound and I knew it was no use asking Ms. Maureen Sommers. By the month of September, my part one schooling was at an end. There was no graduation party, no certificates and not even simple handshake. 

She did say one thing though, " Never contact the embassy, our foreign office or ministry of defense, all will deny, ever knowing you. Besides, you are a Myanmar citizen, they might even sue you for defrauding their good name. I am sure the Myanmar Authorities may not see too kindly on you also."

Before it’s too late, I pointed out that I will not do anything against my government or it’s people, after all, I am of this land, good or bad. 

Ms. Maureen Sommers stared into my eyes and said slowly, " We know that already and you may have our assurance that no such thing will ever be thrusted upon you."

As I was about to leave, she added, " As I said, never approach our embassy or the council from henceforth. Just live your life and we know how and when to find and contact you." 

With these few words, I left the British Council for good.

There were four teashops I should browse through for my monthly cash allowance in an envelope. It should be at one of them, by the entrance. Just pick it up and walk away, no need for receipts and no question asked.

Months went by and my normal life prevailed until one day, a message was received for me to be in Singapore by 12^th April and to proceed to Tan Tock Sing rehabilitation ward. This, I duly obeyed and was greeted by Mr. Wilfred Lim there, and was ushered into a small consultation room. Mr. Lim was from Hong Kong, so he said, and my three months stint started, as usual. Three months from 0830hours to 1130hours, five days a week with weekends off. It was roughly the same thing as Ms. Maureen Sommers lectures, except more in detail. The new thing I picked up was always to have an ass tight alibi, if not, a good enough reason with details that would stand scrutiny.  Never to be an extravagant, and as much as possible travel by a mode most people utilizes, and also to eat at outlets most frequented by others. My eating in  swank restaurants were things of the past and to travel lightly with clothes and utensils which are common for that area. Furthermore, to be mindful of ladies or gents that might take a liking to you. Always to do a through research on a name change with dates and details that could confront you. The golden rule is to remember that the party questioning are not stupid and well trained, at that. Obey the country’s law and regulations and to stay on the right track of them. Arguments are bad and makes you stand out like a sore thumb, thus avoid at all times a confrontation. Never to have a fat bank account or a large cash roll, you cannot explain for, correctly. With that, I said my salutations to him. He did point out to me that it was most unlikely to be ever meeting again.

Funny, how they all are vague, must be the regulations they are to follow. Not once did I hear the word ‘ espionage ‘. The Brits were good with words and said all that they had done were for Crown and country. I really wonder about their sincerity.

July rains were a welcome. The happiest thing was there were no more trainings, however, it did leave me with a way to live by. I may be sleeping less but was more mindful of everything I did, trusted no one since, and more careful of what I said. This was good in a way. My wife said I was quieter and less confrontational to her. I just smiled and said to myself if she only knew what I had become. I am totally a different man now. If only she knew. With that we returned to Yangon, an old couple, slow and steady. Win the race?

I was now on sabbatical for further two months. This was guaranteed and I did enjoy myself for the first time since training, and need not be looking back over the shoulder.  The real reason I knew was they wanted me to be severed of all ties with the Crown, and a period of time was necessary to see this was accomplished or otherwise. Today, I do not even have a library card with the British Council to say the least. I cannot even remember the guy I met at Taunggyi noodle stall. Through friends, I was told that the nice Ms. Maureen Sommers, already returned back to the United Kingdom, after her tour at the Yangon British Council library. This statement was in no way to be contested.

My contact point in Yangon was a printing shop in the 23^rd Street. In case of emergency, I could call up and say what I wanted in code form and the reply always would be, " Wrong number." 

Should they wish to advise further, they would call back from a pay booth within half hour to a designated pay booth also. All thought of, to be untraceable. Smart ?

Now a days, the only thing English that I owned was a mini Oxford travelers’ dictionary, the size of five inches by three and one inch thick, which could be bought at any high street down town, even in Yangon. This was necessary, as it also served as a code translation when viewed together with a current calendar. I do take my hat off to Sherlock Holmes, a simple, yet effective method of code breaking that can be performed anywhere in the world, without the necessity of a cumbersome code book, that can blow your cover. If only the Germans had known, the Allied would have lost the Second World War. These days, I carry a small English Oxford dictionary, a smart phone with camera facilities and many, more plus a tablet that could serve as a communication center for me.  All rather normal, even the kids are at it. My wife was also learning to use an ipad, a pass on from my son, which I could use as a fall back, should situation be called for. The usage of all types of telecommunication equipments, were frowned upon. In short, don’t use it.

Surprisingly, with all that technology around, very rarely, even a simple telephone is used in our line of work, as it can be traced back without much difficulty, therefore, these tools were only used as a last resort.  Under the circumstances, messages by word of mouth or letters are still the best mode of communication, thus the ‘post-man’ still has a place today. In case of emergency, we were taught to fall back on the services of the humble mail. This was the mode of courier service diamond merchants the world over used, through out the wars up to this day, as it was the safest and cheapest. Put the small stone in a matchbox with some cotton wool, so it does not move, then place it in an envelope and address it to where ever you wish. Simple, effective and yet so economical. What gave me the goose pimples, is the fact, we could be the guest of the Crown and or a government for a very long time, if not yet dead. A chilling thought, by any means. Still, must take my hat off to the company, to use pensioners for such a line of work. Who would have thought to use the dad’s army to defend the Crown. This brilliant also swipe of the brush must be congratulated. The British were always careful with money and uses all tactics within their power to achieve their means, pensioners included. No wonder, The British Empire was the largest in the world and still is I suppose.

Why did I take the job?  

Simple, still wanted to feel useful, even if graying, for mankind.

The money also helped.