The 2nd Brook?

Buttering his third toast, this time to be spread over with marmalade instead of jam and his second cup of black coffee, San Win wondered what is to become of him.  He likes his toast to be crisp on the outside and moistly soft inside, instead of being crisp through out and becomes too dry for his palette. He tries his best to keep away from eggs and processed meat for fear of contents might prove to be too rich for him. Age wise, in his twenty sixth years, with no qualification papers to show of, San Win told himself that it’s about time to take stock of his life. While listening to his colleagues talking, he put up a serious interested face in courtesy, even though his thoughts are a million miles away. It is nearly seven forty five a.m, and soon to strike eight bells, he hurriedly climbed the outside staircase to the bridge. The four to eight quartermaster updated him on his watch while he climatizes for his imminent eight to twelve morning watch. After reporting to the Third Mate, the officer of the watch, he was instructed to continue scrape off the old varnish from the starboard bridge door.

San Win works for Mediterranean Shipping Company’s (MSC) cruise ship, MSC Opera, calling at Southampton, Ijmuiden, Alesund, Trondheim, Leknes, Geiranger, Bergen, and back again at Southampton. Round trip is about twelve to fourteen days. He’s been working with MSC for the past three years. The terms are good, six months onboard and three months leave, with full pay while at sea and half pay at during his leave period. He usually travels during leave period all over Europe and after which rejoins the ship back for another six months stint. The ship is a large resort cruise vessel, about 10 years old with 856 cabins and a total 728 crew, and can accept 2055 passengers. Her details are 251.5 meters in length, 50598 gross registered tonnage (grt) and can speed up to 21 knots per hour. Quite a tub with lots of shipmates and at times the view of the feminine sex can be food for sore eyes. San Win holds a Myanmar passport plus seaman book and permanent residing city is stated as Yangon, Myanmar. Thus, he is given a return flight ticket, tourist class, from Southampton/London Heathrow/Yangon via Bangkok and return by the courtesy of MSC for his leave period. He seldom exercises his right, as there are no parents alive in Yangon anymore.

He needs to declare his option before MSC Opera docks back in Southampton, in four days time. While he scrapped the varnish from the starboard side bridge door, he thought deeply on what he should do. Even though the North Sea weather is quite nippy, working in the morning sunshine cleared his head and weighed his options. He’s has stayed in quite a few countries in Europe and wondered whether he should venture out to places outside his safety zone. San Win is Myanmar by nationality, however, with no more family ties there, he does not feel like a Myanmar anymore. Nor does he akin any closeness to a country, and he is rather worried that he might become a stateless person with no allegiance to any country, as such. At times, he wonders where his loyalty lies. A body of a Myanmar National, and a sense of being a German, Dutch, French, Englishman or a Dane, depending on where he’s at and what he is doing. At the same time, he wishes to be free as a bird and venture into any land his feet might drag him and stay there until he senses a calling to wonder to another place. Maybe felt this way because he’s a seaman and traveling to different lands on different days. He does know that working for MSC means the salary and terms suited him fine and the shipping line is still employing him since he meets their requirements. Not because of loyalty as such. What to do? That is the question.

The seaman in question, continue to think deep and hard. Who is he? What has he become? Where does his allegiance lie? Should he anchor his roots somewhere? Questions abound and not a single concrete answer bouncing back. San Win does not know anymore. This worried him, but he knew that he’s got to finally stand on one side of the fence otherwise he would be just a driftwood in an ocean not touching land for ever. That he does not want and San Win is still at a loss. About a year ago, he had the good fortune to meet a young Swiss girl at Lucerne, a north central Swiss town. Her name is Helger and she spoke German, French and Italian, all three languages fluently. She is about five foot seven, slim with loose light brown hair and works for Bank of Switzerland and she is twenty four years old. She somehow clicked with him and San Win found her to be intelligent, sophisticated, and not too talkative coupled with good looks.  They got on fine together and she did not mind him to be a sailor with no paper qualifications, however, apart from Switzerland, she is unable to anchor anywhere else, except maybe for a holiday. He is still asking himself whether to propose to her, while he does phone her once a month when he’s onboard. He still has not committed to Helgar. Switzerland is fine but does he really want it?

Quartermaster San Win is still heavy in thought with no solid answer to who or what he is. He still continued to do his duty as called for. One evening, on look out duty, while on eight to twelve watch, the same question still lingered on. He was befriended with his thoughts while standing alone on the bridge portside wings, and Eureka! The answer came to him. He would go back to Myanmar for one last time during his three months break and will see how he feels. This is his middle path and a decision will be finally made on its completion, one way or another. He was happy at last and at peace with himself. After eight bells, he retreated back to the recluse of his cabin bunk. Sleep was automatic without the need for medication. The next day, after his watch, before lunch, he informed the Chief Officer of his decision to fly back home for leave and also submitted in writing. At least one day notification before Southampton should give his head office enough time to make necessary traveling arrangements.

He flew back to Yangon per Thai Airways flight and on arrival there, there was no one waiting for him among the large crowd at the arrival gate. At the airport bank, San Win changed some money to local Kyats and took a taxi into town and checked into Tavoy Hotel. It is a small cheap hotel in the center of town. The room is single with air conditioning and that’s about it, really. He also wanted such a room, basic and cheap. From there as base, he toured Yangon as best as he could in the hot May sun. His transport was walking generally while he feasted his eyes. For lunch and dinner, he would eat at local roadside teashops and stalls. At Lucky Seven Stars teashop, he ate rice with steamed beans sprinkled with fresh sesame oil and sunny side fried egg (local breakfast). The taste agreed with him and also took a bowl of moakhingar just for good measure. This was a pleasant surprise for him, as his taste buds did not repel the intake of food. For dinner he would have Chinese, in stalls with a crowd. The presentations were similar to London, Hamburg, Singapore and Hong Kong, however, the taste was something else, which he liked. He surprised himself to find most of the food was to his taste.

One day, he noticed that he required a loose cotton shirt as he perspired profoundly and needed a spare to keep him going. The hotel suggested him to buy at Bogyoke Market, as there are a variety of stores to choose from. On a free afternoon, San Win walked there and was pleased to notice the variety was endless. He walked slowly and at the back of the market, he found a store dealing in locally made shirts.

While he chooses, the sales girl said, "This is a Shan shirt, preshrunk and ready to wear, you seem as though you are not from around here."

He smiled and replied, "Do I really stand out that much, I am a Myanmar but a sailor, mainly in European waters."

She continued, "It’s your accent, speaking Burmese, yes, however, it’s not local nor sounded from other regions".

San Win said, "May I sit down for a while, it’s so hot I may need to change my shirt here." that said, he placed his backside on the single stool in front of the store and she offered him hot green tea, just brewed.

For the first time San Win looked at her properly. She is slim, her long black hair spun to a bun at the back, about five foot six, maybe around twenty one years of age, smallish boobs, fair, smooth skin like butter and unlike lard and with a dash of Thanaka on her face, she sure is a sight for sore eyes. She looked cool and composed even though the sun is baking hot outside. He does not know what prompted him to lay down his life story to a girl he just met.

In closing he said, "I no more know who I am and now very much alone with no roots."

Her expression was serious and said, "I’m so sorry, I have never met a person such as you." She continued, "You poor man, so you are looking to find out whether you still belong here or not."

With his head down, he just said, "Yes."

They seem to hit it off quite well. San Win bought the Shan cotton shirt and sat and stayed by the store until closing, yapping. She told him that her name is Nan Khin Hla and she is a resident of Taunggyi, Shan State. She is in Yangon to mind the family store and putting up in Hledan area apartment sharing with her five friends. She secured her Bachelor of Arts degree (B.A.) from Taunggyi College, in Burmese. As her degree does not open much doors of opportunity, she decided to fend the family shop in Yangon selling clothes and materials from Shan State.

She smiled and said, "My sister is arriving tomorrow from Taunggyi and I am available to show you around from day after tomorrow, if you like."

San Win face brightened and replied, "That would be super, I have about two and a half months to kill before I report back for work."

That day, San Win rendezvoused with Nan Khin Hla at Sule Pagoda at nine in the morning. She took him by bus to the Shwe Dagon Pagoda. He enjoyed the experience and to be frank more of her company. However, the bus ride was an adventure on its own, being packed like sardines in a can was not too nice. Moreover, his clothes were soiled with contact with other passengers onboard. Due to that experience, he hired a taxi on daily basis, which is more comfortable and at least his clothes need not be disinfected. He also can drop Nan Khin Hla to right outside her apartment in Hledan district. He had enough money to hire a taxi on daily basis, as the costs are rather cheap compared to Europe. Nan Khin Hla said it was a waste of money as they could use the services of the local busses, which he rather not from his first experience.

They both ventured far out to the towns of Bago and also Pathein. The taxi driver is also around twenty and is happy to drive around anywhere as long as he is earning. It was more of a marriage of convenience. San Win got money to spend and time to clock as far as Nan Khin Hla can spare her time. He likes her quite a lot, they seem to talk the same language and on same frequency. Days rolled on to weeks and matured to months. From the hot humid month of May whizzed on to July. Monsoon rains are more consistent and would pour down daily without fail. There is no escaping the rains, roads would turn into streams and rivers of brown water and shoes are definitely the wrong wear. Rubber slippers are order of the day and umbrellas need be accompanied, without saying. San Win now wears a longyi, similar to other men as washing and drying are much more easier than jeans or trousers. 

They would walk by the Royal and the Inya lakes sharing Nan Khin Hla small umbrella. When there is a downpour and no shelter in sight, he would hold her tight and try to shield her from the rain, of course without much success. He really enjoys her company and the topics are endless to be discussed. She likes Shan and Chinese cuisines and would guide the driver the route and road to be taken. Sure enough, the food was delicious, but he enjoys her company more. Without actually uttering a word, they talked with their eyes, these things do not need words, body language is already sufficient. He did not try to kiss her or take advantage of her in anyway, as he did not want her to look down on him and besides, he must get to know her more.

One evening while enjoying their bowl of Shan noodles she shot a question at him, "I would like my sister to join us for dinner tomorrow evening, do you mind?"

He smiled and replied, "Please be my guest, the more the merrier."  

San Win picked both Nan Khin Hla and her elder sister, Nan Mya Hla, with the taxi he hired. All proceeded in the pouring rain to a Chinese Resultant in Mayangone. He did the honours of ordering while her sister Nan Mya Hla eyed and sized him up.

During the forth course, Nan Mya Hla asked him, "Why don’t you tell me about yourself?"

 He put down his pearly white plastic chopsticks and slowly dished out his life story, "I was told by my parents that I born in a town called Patheingyi, near Mandalay in March, 1987. My father, U Hla Win was an Immigration Officer and mother, Daw Ohn Su a housewife. They both are no more and I’m their only son, educated up to second year in the Physics Department of Mandalay University. Before I graduated, as my parents had passed away and I became a sailor to loose myself in this world."

He continued, " I spent most of my time in Europe as I do not have anybody left in Myanmar that I know of."

Her sister, Nan Mya Hla persisted, "How many times have you been back to Myanmar since you became a sailor?"

San Win replied, "This is my second trip to Myanmar, I renew my passport at any Myanmar Embassy, closest to where I am at that moment in time."

Nan Mya Hla still dig further, "Do you not have relatives, friends or a girlfriend who would look after you?"

He put his plastic chopsticks down again and said, "No one here that I am aware of, not even a single mouse. Besides, I really do not know where I belong anymore."

Nan Mya Hla still will not let go and continued, "How do you like our land now? Feel anything?"

He countered, " To be honest, till now, I did enjoy more than I expected, but to your question whether I felt anything, I don’t really know, I need time to think it over."

Then the interview was over and all enjoyed their meal. Around eleven p.m. he asked the driver to take them home to Hledan. He also was bushed and returned to his hotel for a good night rest.

Next day, while they visited Thanlyin, he told Nan Khin Hla that he needed to proceed back to Southampton next week and report back for his six months onboard stint.

She enquired, "So you’ll be gone next week, will you be back?"

He fell silent for a few seconds and then replied, "That is a million dollar question. I have been asking myself the same point since I was onboard."

They both continued to walk by the Thanlyin River under the shelter of her small umbrella while he held on to her shoulder. The silence was deafening.

After a few minutes he continued, "I should know the route I’m walking when I’m onboard again. Would you mind if I phone you?"

With her serious face she replied, "only if you wish, but not necessary."

San Win laughed out loud and said, "Yes, I do wish and shall call you at least once a month, depending on where the ship is. Will you give me your number?"

She wrote her cell phone number on his hand and said no more.

Before parting, she did make a statement, "My hometown Taunggyi which is the capital of Shan State and the weather is cool throughout the year. It’s a quiet place compared to Yangon and some likes it."

Next week, San Win took the Thai Airway flight to Bangkok for a connection of long twenty three hours flight to London Heathrow and change again to a local flight to Southampton. All very taxing.

Once onboard the MSC Opera, he was home again. He knows his cabin, what and where to eat, and the job was routine. He did not expected to enjoy this much in Yangon. He’s got six months to weigh his options and till then, just to do his work as a quartermaster. Everybody is happy. While alone at night on his watch, during look out duty at the bridge wing, he was surprised that the Yangon food agreed with him and the taste was to his liking. He did not felt being an alien at Yangon and all were indifferent to him. He did not sense like a foreigner either and was at peace with himself. He wondered what it would be like to start afresh there in Taunggyi. A new place, a new profession, a new life, but is he ready for it? Does he really want it? By January, the weather should be just nice there. Cool and crisp, just like an European summer.

San Win already made his decision. It’s about time to call Helger in Lucerne, Switzerland.

The MSC Opera sails smoothly in the North Sea. Rare for these waters, indeed !

The Brook

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

6^th August, 1809 ~ 6^th October 1892, Lincoin, England.