"There was only one choice: run or die.”
I hear so many daily stories now of the trauma and suffering coming out of Myanmar, all being inflicted by the cruel military. Every once in a while, however, a story crosses my desk which finds a way to surmount the usual numbness I’ve had to steel myself with in order to keep on. This story is one of them. One of our local team members took a typical visit to a nunnery with his family, to visit his niece and sister, both of whom are nuns. But the visit would be anything but ordinary. He found the nunnery bursting beyond capacity for the unexpected families who came to seek shelter there. Through a series of hushed conversation, he came to learn of their plight. This nunnery, as so many other places in Myanmar are now doing as well, is to be commended for their effort to look after the vulnerable and persecuted, those who no longer have a home, even as the nunnery itself is barely managing. The stories they tell engender a mix of rage and compassion in the listener. I know they did for me. And if you are able to contribute to our donation fund, we can do more to help populations as these.
Last weekend we visited our niece and sister who are ordained as nuns on a temporary basis, and residing at a nunnery in the countryside. We saw many people arriving. A bit confused, I whispered to my niece, “Who are these people, where are they from?” Aside from the innocent children playing in the nunnery’s yard, they all had sad looks on their faces. Some were sitting, some milling around in the yard, and others helping the nuns in the kitchen. My niece said that they were from the native village of the nunnery's Abbess, in north-east Monywa, and had fled to the nunnery because their village had been burned down to the ground by the military. My niece whispered in a low voice, “They couldn’t even bring clothes and blankets. When they arrived here, Sayargyi (the nunnery head) handed out blankets and pillows, etc. to them.” Some people from the nearby town also came and donated their own used clothes, pillows and blankets.
I met and talked to a woman in her forties sitting on a bench beneath a tree in the nunnery yard. I wanted to learn what had happened to her in their village. She related her tragedy: “[The soldiers] came to our village with an evil intent. They shot into the air, shouting abusive words. They dared the people to come out, saying they would be shot on sight.” As soon as the soldiers arrived, she and her family had slipped out the back, slinking through the unharvested paddy fields holding their children’s hands. They made it to the nearest village, where their relatives are living. I interrupted and asked, “Why did you run? Why were you alleged to have done?” She answered, “Oh, my brother! Although we did not do anything guilty, those evil soldiers are not even human, they shot everyone and everything they saw! There was only one choice–run, or die.”
She related the story of another village where the military had gone just a few days prior, shouting abusive words like robbers, just the same way they attacked this woman’s own village. They even shot at the dogs on the village’s main road. A young man was captured and shot dead. She continued with emotion, “It was right that we left the village! They killed 20 young men there under the false accusation that they were local defense force members, or had connections with them.” And anyone who the soldiers saw in the village was forced to stand up out in the blistering Myanmar sun, accused of supporting the local defense forces. The commanding officer said, “Such a stupid village as this should no longer exist!”, and ordered the village set on fire. Suddenly, the woman got up and ran to the hall where she and her family were living, as she heard her 2-year old baby crying.
I was deeply moved to hear that story of those innocent people. I looked around in silence. And in my mind, I was asking, “Why have innocent and absolutely honest Myanmar people been suffering so much at the hands of this evil regime for so many decades?!"
My niece told me that there are other nunneries and monasteries sheltering similarly innocent and suffering people until it is safe for them to go back to what remains of their villages. The nuns, themselves, are not rich in material, but very rich in compassion and love for the people taking refuge in their shelters. I was inspired by those nuns and monks and decided to help them however I can. At the same time, my niece reminded me to take care for my own safety, too, since the Tatmadaw is punishing any volunteer who helps monasteries and nunneries, or brings food for the runaway villagers.
In the end, history will have witnessed not only the brutality of the evil military, but also the golden, altruistic hearts of those who are helping to care for the suffering people suffering at the military’s hands. These sites giving shelters to the homeless and displaced persons must not be neglected. We need to all help as best we can! Let us give our support to these compassionate nuns and monks!