Myanmar Journal: Tears and Barbecued Chicken
The following thread is being written by a vipassana meditator from the tradition of S.N. Goenka who is currently in Myanmar, who has played a pivotal role in the organization’s mission. For his safety, personal details have been obscured, but he has made it his desire that his observations be read by meditators everywhere. Please note that we are now able to ensure donations reach this person as well as the community he is supporting. Please consider making a contribution.
For those of you who may never have visited Myanmar it is worth mentioning the street sellers who play an important role in providing food for the people. There are those who carry on their heads large bowls of beans, fish, chicken or other such products and sit at the edge selling their food. Then there are those with a flattened bamboo at the end of which are snacks or other such food attached to the ends of the bamboo often with a couple of small plastic chairs. They too stop along the road to sell and with the chairs customers have a place to sit while they indulge in the food being offered. And then there are those with push carts that go through the neighborhoods calling out the fruits, vegetables, flowers and other such items that they are offering.
Not far from us is a young boy of about 13 years who has always taken up the same place along the road and who sells barbecue chicken. Small pieces of chicken are put on a skewer and are then barbecued on the spot over a coal fire that he walks around with. Since the coup he has been absent from the street as it has not been safe to sell due to the soldiers and police stealing the food or attacking with clubs and just breaking everything that they can.
A couple of days ago the boy made an appearance on the road with his chicken for sale in hopes of earning some money to help his family. On this day a local woman saw three soldiers standing around the boy and it was obvious he was very afraid and his hands were noticeably trembling. The woman watched and after 5 or so minutes the soldiers walked off about 30 or 40 feet away. The woman approached and she was deeply saddened by how afraid the boy was as tears streamed from his eyes. She asked what the soldiers said to him that frightened him so much to which he responded with even more tears.
“Aunty, (one of several polite forms for addressing an older woman) I was so afraid I didn’t understand anything they said.”
And he began to cry even harder.
“Please stay here with me Aunty until after they leave” he begged of her. “Because I am of Indian descent these Bamar soldiers treat me even worse than others.”
With a broken heart and despite the risk to herself, with the soldiers still nearby, she took a seat and ordered some of the barbecued chicken. With hands still trembling and tears rolling down his face he prepared the skewers and placed them over the cooler area of charcoal so that the chicken would be slow to heat. Still the soldiers remained nearby.
Unable to wait any longer for fear of completely burning the chicken the child took them out of the fire, wrapped them and handed the chicken off to the woman. After paying the boy he remained visibly in distress with the soldiers still nearby. Before the woman could get up and walk away he pleaded with her once again.
“Please, Aunty, let me give you a present for your dog” (the woman has no dog).
Understanding, she sat back down while the young boy started to slowly clean the chicken bones for the ‘dog’. Soon thereafter the soldiers finally left the area. The woman rose.
“Son, please take care of yourself”
These are the small stories you probably never hear about but ones we hear each and every day and these kinds of stories are repeated thousands of times each day around the country.
Be well my son……………..