In Mandalay

 I am now in Mandalay with Win Kyaing, Win San, Saya Htay and I all working on my itinerary for the rest of the month. Apart from the Shinbinsagyo Pagoda Ceremony at Salay there will be Waso Fullmoon Day, which the whole country celebrates and a Fish Feeding Ceremony at Pwinphyu near Magwe, which should be different!

Air Asia now operates from Mingaladon Airport’s new Terminal 1 in Yangon, which has thick carpets but the seats look as though they are cardboard cutouts (I couldn’t try them because I was on my way out).

As I usually do, I headed for the Green Nothing-to-Declare Queue only to be redirected to a small room where they could investigate the contents of my big brown suitcase. Fortunately, Hazel had the good sense to tell me to put Rotary’s card of thanks for my talk on the Used-Glasses Project on top of the almost 150 pairs of glasses. This would have helped. The Customs Official looked puzzled but from the state of some of the glasses’ cases in particular, he could tell I did not have in mind to sell them. So I zipped up the case and was allowed to leave.

I travelled this time with a different bus company as Tun Shwe has changed his job. This bus stops only once on the nine hour journey. I missed the stop, as I must have been asleep when everybody got out for the bathroom and refreshments. I woke up to find not only were there no passengers or lights on – I couldn’t get out as I was locked in. So I went back to sleep.

Shampoo

In one way, I didn’t need one, as I’d be in Mandalay in two days where there is the best ever shampoo and head massage. I didn’t need one in another way also: my lank locks looked thick, indeed bouffant, from the dust that covered everything. But I wanted one. I wandered around the main streets but couldn’t find a salon anywhere. Then I turned into a side lane and there a sign said ‘Shampoo’. I hazarded a guess it would not say that if it were a barber’s shop for men. ‘Tis true there were many men sitting around aimlessly chatting, but this is what men do.

I mimed washing not cutting and a most obliging man sped off to find the female hairdresser. I thought. But no, he returned with a black, rubber car-tyre bucket of cold water. Mmm I thought I’m glad the day is warm. Through much gesticulation from Ko Hair Wash and the hum of a stray man intoning Ozzy, Ozzy, Ozzy (as I’d been obliged to say where I was from and Ozzy means one is not mistaken for an Austrian) Ko Hair Wash guided me to a wooden chair beside a stained, stainless steel sink. As I bent my head I noticed the sink was filthy. So I closed my eyes. Ko HW pushed my head forward and tucked a dark green towel around my neck. Then came half the bucket of cold water tipped over my head and shoulders. But as the water poured into the sink, there was no plug or indeed no drainpipe so the water cooled my hands, knees and calves.

Next was normal hairdressing procedure: he lathered my head in soapy bubbles. Then along came the other half of the car-tyre bucket of water. Satisfied he’d removed all the soap (and hopefully the grime) he threw the dark green towel over my head and face. But he’d been using the towel to sop up some of the wayward water on the floor. So as the towel landed on my head, my face got a dousing too. I got up and walked haltingly as you do with a wet dark green towel over your head. I fumbled my way to a chair beside a mirror. And here was a complete surprise: a hairdryer. It was electric. And there was electricity. I snuggled down in the wooden chair shut my eyes and Ko HW combed gently as my hair dried to the continuous flow of words from the three men still clustered around. Ko HW finished combing. Cautiously I opened my eyes. In the mirror I hardly recognized myself. The wrinkles were still there as testament to my 71 years. But I had the neat parting and the smoothed down hair of a primary school boy. Not what I expected. But hey you need the unexpected to keep you on your toes and hilarious happenings don’t often happen.

Kachin State

I wrote the following looking across the huge blue expanse of water. A cormorant is on a post hoping a fish will swim by, as is a kingfisher with a long red bill. Gulls are wheeling over boats taking local people to the pagoda. Around the Lake there is Water Hyacinth, which is a scourge in many parts of the world as it is invasive and prolific and clogs up waterways – but here it just occurs around the edge of the Lake.

There is an unusual story about this area. There are several versions, some more unusual than others. Apparently in BC 184, which was the time of the dragons, there was no Lake. There was a village of 10,000 houses and 1,000 monasteries. But the villagers were not Shan or Kachin.

They were Ta Man Ti or magic people. They carried a blanket with them and if they took it off, it could be seen that they were half tiger and half human. They had no religion, no Buddhism, no rules or laws. But then we learned that there was just one Buddhist woman: widow Daw Aye Moan

One night, Daw Aye Moan was visited by a good nat in a dream. It is rare to hear of a good nat. Nats are part of Myanmar’s spirit world. They are the spirits of people who usually came to a sticky end and therefore want to make trouble for people still living. There are 37 main nats in Myanmar. There is one for each village or town, one for each profession or job. In some places there may be a nat for each house. The spirit world of nats is as alive to the Myanmar people as the Buddha and his teaching and is much older.

The good nat told widow Daw Aye Moan that everyone in the village must leave within a week otherwise they would die. Daw Aye Moan spent every day giving this message to the villagers. But nobody believed her.  Eventually, she knew she must leave so she did, taking her two children and her two buffaloes with her. She climbed a mountain to be safe and when she looked next morning the huge lake, now known as Indawgyi, covered the entire area. All houses in the village were submerged and all the people had drowned.

Apparently, when Daw Aye Moan escaped up the mountain called Low Mon only one of the two buffaloes made it to the top with her. The smaller of the two drowned. We visited the spot where one huge boulder contains the footprint of the buffalo that drowned and next to it the footprint of Daw Aye Moan. All her life the widow wanted to build a pagoda according to her faith, so the Sayadaw or Abbott of the Lwei Monastery organized the building of a pagoda for her at Mohnyine.

We learned the lake has three levels. The bottom is where the dragons lived (a long time ago) then there is the submerged village level, and now the Lake, which has the pagoda Shwe Min Zu in the centre. We walked to the Pagoda first by road and then for half a kilometre on a causeway, which is under water in the rainy season as the water level rises by seven or more feet and can only be reached by boat. Fortunately in February it was only ankle deep and we walked admiring the view as we went.

The pagoda is interesting for several reasons. First, it is owned by two villages, side-by-side, so neither can say the whole pagoda belongs to them. In November and December every year, the water on the left side of the pagoda remains blue, but the water on the right side turns red. Further enquiries on my part revealed that it was a bad nat that does this. The red is a sort of medicine and all the fish on the right side die. Apparently, the fishermen are pleased because it is much easier to catch dead fish than ones that are still alive!

Indawgyi Lake

We are back in Garden Hotel Mandalay, which has electricity and internet – luxuries. Now I can catch up with work I was unable to do at the back-of-beyond-internet.

On 27.02.16 I wrote:

Are we there yet? I didn’t share the question with Win San and Saya Htay who were travelling with me as it was just as long a journey for them as for me. And it was long – nine hours long. We left Monywa in Sagaing Division of Upper Myanmar to travel to Indawgyi Lake in Kachin State near China. Why? Because this is an area of exceptional beauty: mountains as well as lake and owing to its remoteness, it has not been explored by many visitors. We had thought we would reach Mohnyin not far from the Lake in one day, but as darkness fell it seemed more sensible to overnight at Inntaw and cross the border into Kachin State next day. 

Win San, Saya Htay and I are in Longton, in Kachin State in the north east of Myanmar, not far from China. Myitgyinar is the capital and the people there are mainly Kachin. Longton is next to Indawgyi Lake and the people are mainly Shan and mainly poor.

Our journey here was a seven-hour drive from Inntaw. The road was mostly good, but the bridge crossings were not. They are preparing for the rainy season and had broken down most bridges to make them bigger. Would we have to get out and push crossed my mind several times. One truck ‘fell down in the river’ we were told which proved a diversion while they pulled it out.

Indawgyi Lake is 16 miles long and eight miles across and is 750 metres above sea level.. The Lake and surroundings have not been developed. There are no shops or hotels. The choice of accommodation is a concrete Government Rest House with a room with an inside bathroom, or Indaw Mahar Guesthouse, Lonton Village, Indawgyi Area (+95 9 3615 2269 – in case you want to go there). We opted for the latter. It has 24-hour electricity, which only went off for an hour or two at a time. No internet.

I am writing this looking across the huge blue expanse of water. A cormorant is on a post hoping a fish will swim by, as is a kingfisher with a long red bill. Gulls are wheeling over boats taking local people to the pagoda. Around the Lake there is Water Hyacinth, which is a scourge in many parts of the world as it is invasive and prolific and clogs up waterways – but here it just occurs around the edge of the Lake.

There is an unusual story about this area. There are several versions, some more unusual than others. Apparently in BC 184, which was the time of the dragons, there was no Lake. There was a village of 10,000 houses and 1,000 monasteries. But the villagers were not Shan or Kachin. They were Ta Man Ti or magic people. They carried a blanket with them and if they took it off, it could be seen that they were half tiger and half human. They had no religion, no Buddhism, no rules or laws. Miraculously,  there was just one Buddhist woman.

One night, widow Daw Aye Moan was visited by a good nat in a dream. It is rare to hear of a good nat. Nats are part of Myanmar’s spirit world. They are the spirits of people who usually came to a sticky end and therefore want to make trouble for people still living. There are 37 main nats in Myanmar. There is one for each village or town, one for each profession or job. In some places there may be a nat for each house. The spirit world of nats is as alive to the Myanmar people as the Buddha and his teaching and is much older.

The good nat told widow Daw Aye Moan that everyone in the village must leave within a week otherwise they would die. Daw Aye Moan spent every day giving this message to the villagers. But nobody believed her.  Eventually, she knew she must leave so she did, taking her two children and her two buffaloes with her. tbc

Bawditataung Pagoda Festival

Today is Full-Moon Day of Tapotwe (February) and everyone from villages and towns around Monywa have come to make donations at the 1,050 foot high Buddha image. Inside the image the monks chant, waiting for the procession to begin.

First came the dignitaries of the town wearing their special hats, carrying a portrait of the founder of the monastery: Nar Ya Day Ba Dan Ta. 

Over 400 monks and maybe more than 800 laymen walked one behind the other and the people put in whatever the monks needed e.g. instant noodles or, as I was entrusted, detergent. 

Everything had to be given to the laymen as monks are not allowed, among another 220 rules, to touch money. Invitations had been sent out to monks in various parts of the country: Yangon, the Shan States and Kayin State and Mawlamyaing which is the fourth biggest city after Napidaw, Yangon and Mandalay.

My caring carers wanted to get me out of the sun. We didn’t find a shady place, but a much better place in which we could listen to and watch an orchestra from Hsipaw in Northern Shan State beating on drums and gongs and making interesting gestures with their hands and feet. There were several boy monks in the procession. All Myanmar males must go through Shin Phu in a monastery to learn the Buddha’s teachings. These young monks would stay in the monastery for just about a month then go home having learned many of the rules.