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Tales From Burma
-by-
Richard K. Diran
"The Crippled Girl"
Although Burma herself is viewed and vilified, particularly in the
West, as a pariah, the acts of kindness by the people themselves
reflects a far deeper kind of cultural compassion. I have been a
frequent visitor to the country for over 20 years and have been
witness to many of the historical events over that period. One of the
places in Burma which has always been enchanting is the ancient
capital of Pagan, located in the hot, dusty plains of central Burma.
Pagan flourished from about the 9th century until the troops of Kubla
Khan overran the city and its one million inhabitants for not paying
tribute to the Great Khan. The king fled and the thousands of temples
and pagodas were left to stand on their own silently for many
centuries.
A few months ago I again visited Pagan and drove around the dirt
tracks lined with cactus and thorny scrub brush with my ever loyal
horse cart driver Ko Chit Sae whom I have known for years, and who
has stayed with me at my former house in Rangoon during the
difficult times of martial law and curfew. Lacquer ware in all of its
applications has been produced in Pagan for centuries. The
extremely dry climate makes for ideal conditions for the drying
process, each of which must be undertaken for every layer of lacquer
applied. Lacquer can be painted on teak wood for furniture, woven
bamboo for utilitarianarticles such as monks begging bowls and
even to horse hair that is so delicate one side of a cup can be pressed
to nearly touch the opposite side. Maung Maung, who owns a
lacquer ware factory in Pagan, has a sincere appreciation for Burmese
art and culture, mentioned to me that several stone fragments of the
Buddha had just been unearthed near the huge temple called
"Sulamani" dating from the late 11th to early 12th century. Ko Chit
Sae and I plodded on thru the rutted tracks as he pulled the reins of
his sweat-glistened horse to a stop at a lonely enclosure with a long
wooden table covered with chicken wire to protect the artifacts
within sight of Sulamani. Near this enclosure lived a family, a
husband and wife with two daughters whose sole job was to guard
those relics. Their house was more of a temporary shelter built of
rudimentary bamboo. As I leaned forward to get a better look at a
huge fragment of the Buddha's head, classic with the fine lines and
curves of the early period, I noticed somebody standing beside me
with a radiant smile. It was not until I drew back to look at her that
I noticed she used a crutch and was missing the lower part of her leg
below her left knee. I asked Ko Chit Sae to ask the family how this
had happened, and they said that she had been born that way. By
the glow of her smile I could see that she in no way thought of her
condition as any particular impediment. Hkay Ti Win is twelve years
old and has huge, sparkling eyes.
Something in her spirit inspired me. So
many people with no handicaps defeat
themselves in life, while this girl hobbling
along with one leg was filled with hope. I
took some pictures of her, some with my
trusty Canon and others in Polaroid which
I gave to her. She was attending school
and was obviously quite bright. I kept
thinking about her, and in later visits I
could see clearly her family's love for her
as they dressed her in the best clothes
they could afford and her sister tied
ribbons in her hair.
One of my dearest friends in Rangoon, now 83 years old, is Doctor
Maung Maung Taik, who was the chief forensic pathologist in Burma
and estimates he has conducted over thirty thousand autopsies in
various cases, one on his own son who years before had died of a
drug overdose. Imagine conducting an autopsy on your own son.
He is also a famed golfer who plays several rounds each week,
drinks a few glasses of single-malt scotch every day, and is one of
the best cooks I know. He probably speaks English better than I do,
and during my visits we will oftendebate the origins of words,
consulting a dog-eared dictionary several inches thick. During times
of frequent electrical blackouts in Burma when he would invite me
over for dinner, I would bring my 100-year-old gramophone with a
hand crank to his place and we would listen to scratchy records of
Caruso.
I mentioned to Doctor Taik that I had met a girl of 12 years near the
Sulamani temple and that she had been born missing one leg. He
asked me where the leg ended and I told him just below the knee.
The joint in the knee functioned perfectly and the tibia and fibula
were present ending in a blunt stump. Since Doctor Taik had trained
hundreds and perhaps thousands of doctors, he is looked upon with
the great respect that only a lifetime of service can merit. He
mentioned to me that one of his former students was now the
superintendent of the national Rehabilitation Hospital in Rangoon
and that he would be happy to introduce me as they could provide a
prosthesis for young Hkay Ti Win. I arranged to have her and her
mother come to Rangoon for treatment. The bus ride, which was the
first time she had ever left rural Pagan, took 20 hours, and the bus
blew five tires on the way.
Arriving at the hospital, which had open windows and overhead fans
which didn't work because of the lack of electricity, was a courtyard
with numerous patients awaiting a new limb or learning to use their
new prosthesis with able- bodied nurses assisting them in starched
white uniforms. Hkay Ti Win, her mother and I were brought into
the superintendent's office, where Doctor Taik introduced us and
showed the doctor her missing leg. The superintendent, Doctor Min
Lwin Ramu, said that they would be glad to provide lodging for Hkay
Ti and her mom, as well as food, the new leg and the rehabilitation
process necessary for learning how to walk on two feet. He said that
if I did not have the money, it wasn't a problem since they would
provide all of this for free. I said that no, I did have enough money
and was willing to pay. The entire cost was only a few hundred
dollars, which I happily gave the Doctor in kyats, the local currency.
As I write this, Hkay Ti Win and her mom are staying at the hospital.
Doctor Taik and some of my Rangoon friends visit often bringing
cookies and magazines. The cast for a new limb is being transformed
into a new leg which she will be taught to use by the staff.
Doctor Taik tells me that when she is fitted and the rehabilitation
complete at the end of this month, Hkay Ti Win will be able to run
for the first time in her life. I have asked her for only one thing in
return, the well-worn and polished wooden crutch that her father
built for her.
