Balloons, and Missing Home....

The following story is made possible from the team behind Breaking Brainwashed. Htet Myat, a former soldier who defected after the coup, discusses his childhood memories and the metaphor this created in his having chosen to leave the military.

Back in my childhood, there was two things I was most interested in during the Thadingyut holiday. First is to pay our respects to the elders with foods and dresses bought with the savings from our pocket money.

Then, we waited eagerly for their long blessings to end and they would always say to us, “May your blessings be fulfilled.” And the next most interesting thing is waiting for the pocket money which Grandma always took out from her under-vest. Sometimes, we even lost our capital but it doesn’t matter. We were very happy!

The second thing I looked forward to was to let loose the small hot-air balloons into the sky . We saved our money to buy one, and we did absolutely everything we could to make ours fly into the air. Many times we had to buy a new one because the old one simply burned down. My habit was to attach small amounts of money to the balloon. I felt satisfied when the balloon flew up after many troubles. It was a pleasure I can’t exchange with anything; the pleasure to watch till the balloon flew out of sight.

When watching that, I thought to myself many times, “What if my balloon run out of fuel and fall somewhere? What if it falls on a house and starts a fire? What kind of people will get my money? I hope only those in need will get it….”

As a rebellious teen, I wanted to leave the bounds of my house and live freely. I tired many times to leave. I wanted to live independently and face everything that comes in my way. The desire for new experiences, freedom, and challenges makes me ignorant of my mom’s worries,

“What if my balloon run out of fuel and fall somewhere? What if it falls on a house and starts a fire? What kind of people will get my money? I hope only those in need will get it.”

Right now, I had flown as high as a hot-air balloon. I had incidents of almost burning down. I had gone with the wind. I had lived wherever the currents carried me. But I have forgotten the place called home I flew away from. Also is gone my mom who was always worried about me….

Don’t worry now, mom. You can be rest assured. No one has burnt because of me. I always put the well being of others first. The money you have attached is in good hands. I am always helping other.

But I don’t know where I started from anymore. I genuinely don’t. The place I have called home is no more. Now, it is just an image in my mind. Just a glimpse of a place I have take refuge in.

Now, I just hum the tune of Htoo Eain Thin’s song, “Want to go home, hooo. Mom’s peaceful home”, and missed my now gone mom and home.

We are doing whatever we can right now and missing home and mom.