The Golden Land (36 page)

The elderly man hurried away and returned a few minutes later with an old Burmese couple. Mr P explained to them in Burmese who Natalie was and why she wanted to meet them.

Mr P made the introductions. ‘This is Daw Thet Wai and U Tun Oo. They would like you to come inside. It's more private.'

Natalie took off her shoes and stepped into the humble house. There was very little furniture, but the couple ushered her to join them on cushions in front of a low table that held a bowl containing betel nut and a lacquer box.

Mr P sat beside Natalie to translate. The old couple couldn't stop smiling and staring at Natalie. Then they thanked her profusely for the fruit and flowers.

Natalie reached into her bag and took out the envelope with the photographs of Mi Mi, Nanda and their two teenagers, which she handed to Mi Mi's mother. Daw Thet Wai took out the photographs and laid them in a line on the table.

The faces of her beloved daughter, her fine husband and their two happy children laughed up at her. Slowly she began to speak softly, addressing each of the pictures, tenderly and lightly touching each photograph as if caressing its subject's skin.

Mr P said quietly to Natalie, ‘She is telling them she loves them and that she is so happy to see them and how beautiful they are, just as she knew they would be. She says that now she has put them in her heart so that she can speak to them each day. They will be with her and know all she is doing and how she feels.'

Tears sprang to Natalie's eyes.

Neatly and carefully Mi Mi's mother put the photos in a pile on the table, and smiled contentedly at Natalie.

Now Tun Oo, Mi Mi's father, straightened up, opened the lacquer box and took out two faded pictures. He slid the pictures across the table to Natalie. She immediately recognised the laughing young girl as Mi Mi. The second photo was of Mi Mi and a young monk, his head shaved, proudly wearing his robes. Natalie guessed that this was Mi Mi's brother.

‘We are very proud of our daughter,' Tun Oo told Mr P, who translated his words for Natalie. ‘She studied to be a doctor and helped her brother and the others. We are happy to know that she has a good life in Australia.'

‘Mr P, can you please tell them that Mi Mi wrote to them several times after Cyclone Nargis, and was very concerned when she did not hear back from them. She thought that they had gone into the delta region and she was very worried about their safety.'

‘I see. Letters do not always reach their destination in Myanmar,' explained Tun Oo through Mr P. ‘We did not go to the delta. I was a schoolteacher, but when I became too old to teach and had to retire, I lost my house because it, like my job, belonged to the government. So we could not afford to live in Yangon any longer. The rents are too high and we had not much in savings. I thought that we could move south to be near our son but because he is a monk, he was not in a position to help us. Luckily for us, my brother Sung Oo wanted to share his house with us. His wife died some years ago and he thought that our company would be good for him and he was pleased to help. So here we are.'

Natalie looked around the simple house, realising just how poor these people were. Even though Tun Oo was an educated man, a teacher, she realised that they were now existing at a subsistence level because there was no state assistance for elderly people and the children were expected to look after their elderly relatives, but Tun Oo and Thet Wai's children were not in a position to do this. Natalie knew that they had never told Mi Mi about their poverty. They must have known that their daughter had done well in Australia, but were obviously too proud to tell her the truth about their situation.

‘Please tell them that Mi Mi speaks to her children about their grandparents all the time and hopes that someday they can come and visit.' She reached into her bag and took out the envelope that Mi Mi had given her. Then she quickly reached for her own money, took out three hundred dollars and added it to Mi Mi's envelope. I don't need to buy many presents to take home. Helping Mi Mi's parents is the best present I can give, she thought.

She passed them the money. When Tun Oo and Thet Wai saw how much Natalie was giving them, their faces became wreathed in smiles, and they thanked her humbly and profusely.

‘They are thanking you for your kind gift. This money will help them for some time,' said Mr P. ‘They wish to thank their daughter for her kindness.'

Natalie nodded, thinking how inadequate it was, but pleased that she had found out the true state of things so that she could tell Mi Mi.

Mi Mi's father spoke again. ‘Perhaps one day our grandchildren can visit, but it is not yet that time. We have to wait, just as The Lady has to wait.'

‘You are very patient. How do you live here? What do you do?' asked Natalie, trying to take it all in so that she could tell Mi Mi.

‘We are simple people,' replied Thet Wai. ‘We grow our food and trade for what we need. We support Sister Tin Tin Pe, who is the abbess of a nunnery here. There are many nunneries in Sagaing, but Daw Tin Tin Pe is very strong.'

Mr P asked Tun Oo some questions and then, looking rather impressed, said to Natalie, ‘These are good people indeed. They assist the work of this senior nun by giving whatever they can in money or food. Sister Tin Tin Pe is a reformist nun who is trying to restore the equality of nuns with the monks.'

‘Is this what you and U Watt were explaining to me in the bookshop?'

‘That's right. Most of the nuns of Burma want to become fully ordained religious leaders again, and Mi Mi's parents are supporting one of the most active nuns in the country.'

‘Mi Mi will be very proud and pleased about her parents' efforts,' said Natalie.

Mr P translated and the couple smiled and nodded.

‘Their hearts are very generous,' said Mr P. ‘They are asking how long you will be staying in Sagaing. They would like to show you around. They suggest that you might like to stay at their friend's nunnery rather than return to Mandalay tonight. Would you like to do that? It would be quite an experience for you.'

‘I would be very happy to spend some time with them,' said Natalie. ‘And whatever you say I'll go along with. But there will not be any problems for them being seen with a foreigner, will there? If it's not too much trouble for the nuns, I'd love to stay in a nunnery. It will be something to tell everyone about back at home,' she said.

‘Travellers often stay at the monasteries and nunneries in Sagaing. It is a place for meditation and retreats. Mi Mi's parents will be fine. They are simply a devout couple showing us around.'

‘Great! This place has such a special feeling. And I'd like to spend some time with Mi Mi's parents.'

‘I'll take lots of photographs of you all together,' said Mr P.

‘Where will you stay, Mr P?'

‘I'll stay at a monastery nearby. Our driver can stay there, too.'

They all wandered along the leafy narrow streets that wound up the hill from Thet Wai and Tun Oo's home. Sung Oo, Mi Mi's uncle, also joined them for the tour of Sagaing. There were many large and famous pagodas to visit, but what made Natalie happiest was seeing the places that were the favourites of Mi Mi's relatives.

Inside one cool quiet pagoda, Mr P and Mi Mi's parents knelt quietly to pray while Natalie walked through a corridor, admiring the carvings and fading frescoes of scenes from Buddha's life. In an alcove before a figure of Lord Buddha that glowed from the limpid gold pressed into his cold stone skin, a mother and child knelt to pray. The woman was young and the little girl perhaps Adam's age. Together they lifted up loops of small white flowers and held them towards the silent figure in the shrine. It was a devout but simple gesture, and Natalie thought again about the uncomplicated devotion of these gentle Buddhist worshippers. People quietly observed their duties, oblivious to passing strangers.

They went to a small village where Natalie watched some silversmiths working, beating out silver pieces with the traditional tools they had used for years. Natalie bought a small silver vase from them to take home to Mi Mi. She packed it carefully in her shoulder bag and hoped that it would mean something special to her friend because it came from the place where her parents now lived.

They stopped in a tea shop. The woman and her daughters who ran it sat knitting handbags to sell to tourists. Mr P explained that a lot of visitors came to Sagaing at the end of the rainy season for the robe-offering ceremony but for most of the year, Sagaing was simply a place for peaceful worship.

The view from the top of the hill at sunset was breathtaking, but Natalie was glad when she was finally taken to the nunnery where she would spend the night. She felt exhausted from all the sightseeing. They seemed to have walked for many kilometres. She marvelled at the stamina of Mi Mi's elderly relatives.

The nunnery was a simple, new building made of brick and cement, softened by a roofline decorated with traditional wooden carvings.

Natalie was introduced to Sister Tin Tin Pe and was pleased to find that the nun spoke good English. The abbess was an impressive woman with a direct gaze, a firm, calm voice and a formidable air of authority.

‘The nuns will look after your needs. There is meditation at 4 a.m. and food at 6 a.m.'

‘Thank you,' said Natalie. ‘I'm finding Sagaing such an interesting place. My friends tell me that you are trying to improve the status of Buddhist nuns here in Myanmar.'

‘Yes, that is my life's work, my calling.'

‘So this place must be very special to you,' said Natalie politely.

‘This nunnery is my nerve centre, my headquarters, you might say.' Sister Tin Tin Pe smiled briefly. ‘But I also need to travel and lecture in order to raise funds.'

‘I suppose you need funds for your work and to keep this nunnery going?' said Natalie.

‘All Buddhist institutions need financial support, but most particularly nunneries. The lack of donations is a problem for most of them. Nuns are often forced to live at the most basic level.'

‘That's surprising in a country as devout as Myanmar,' replied Natalie.

‘It has a lot to do with the lack of status of nuns. They are seen as having little religious power, so naturally people give their support to those who have more.'

‘Then why do women become nuns? What do they do?'

‘Any woman can become a nun. Sometimes women join a nunnery only for a short time, but most women stay on. They might be widows, or women who have never married. It varies. The nuns see themselves as the keepers of Buddhist virtues, and propagators of Buddhism. They learn the rituals of Buddhism and have detailed knowledge of ceremonies, so they complement the role of monks. Nuns make sure that everything runs to plan.'

‘So they have an important role to play then in the spiritual life of this country.'

‘That is true but it is also true that their role is not fully appreciated. Only last week, while I was absent, the nuns from here helped perform rites at a funeral. They recited protective verses and then walked with the family to the burial ground, while the monks rode there in a car. Yet the monks were given generous donations for their part in the ceremony and the nuns were given very little.'

‘That doesn't seem fair,' said Natalie. She thought to herself that things might have been different had Sister Tin Tin Pe been around.

‘Are all nunneries like this one?' Natalie couldn't believe that she had the chance to stay in a place like this. The experience was quite beyond anything she could have conceived of doing.

‘No, they can be quite different. Some might be composed of a cluster of small houses, each housing only a handful of women and essentially independent from the others. The houses are usually donated by the families of the nuns. Other nunneries are like this one. There are fifty-four nuns here and it is run as one large house. Other nuns are attached to monasteries and there they might run the kitchens and the monastery finances. Nuns frequently make good administrators.'

‘I can understand why you need to raise funds to keep this place going.'

‘Yes. I raise money for other things as well. For example, we are building a shelter in Nepal for young girls at risk. Poor and uneducated village girls are sold by their families or even kidnapped, and forced into prostitution. HIV/AIDS and abortions further ruin their lives. We do what we can for these poor girls. But although this social work is important, my primary objective is to empower nuns to achieve religious equality. At the moment, the best the nuns can hope for is to be born a man in another life or to earn merit through their sons becoming novices.'

‘And how can you make these changes happen? I can't imagine men willingly giving up their privileges to help Buddhist nuns become fully ordained.'

Sister Tin Tin Pe gave a big smile. ‘You are right. Nuns are seen as subservient, handmaids, but that can be changed. Sometimes one has to seize the moment, and invoke past history.' She shrugged. ‘In the meantime we continue working to reinforce the Buddhist way of life to the Burmese people. I hope you will be comfortable. It means a lot to Thet Wai and Tun Oo that you brought them a message from their daughter. It was a kind act on your part.'

‘I just want my friend to know that her parents are well and happy,' said Natalie, at the same time thinking what strong leadership there was in Burma from women like Aung San Suu Kyi and Sister Tin Tin Pe.

Two young nuns, with shaved heads and wearing pale pink robes, shyly curious of their visitor, led Natalie to the small, sparsely furnished room where she would be sleeping, and then showed her the spartan bathing facilities. Later, after evening prayers, Natalie was taken into the communal dining hall to eat on her own as the nuns didn't eat after midday. She was served a simple but wholesome meal consisting of about five small dishes. Natalie could identify a vegetable curry and a spicy omelette, but she had no idea what the other dishes were. Nevertheless they all tasted delicious. Afterwards, she carried her plate to the sink and washed it. Before leaving the dining hall, she bowed to the Buddha figure. She then walked through the garden in the soft night air to her curtainless room and hard bed, where she slept like a log.