The Golden Land (37 page)

Dawn had already broken when Natalie woke. She could hear soft chanting and realised that she'd missed meditation and prayers, so she hurried to the bathroom and splashed herself with refreshingly cold water and quickly dressed. She returned to her room to find the two young nuns sitting on the bed holding a bowl of warm food for her. They indicated she was to eat, so Natalie dipped her spoon into the spicy vermicelli noodles topped with dried shrimp. The nuns watched, smiling and nodding, until Natalie was finished, and then they took her dish and quietly slipped away.

Natalie picked up her bag and went to the courtyard of the nunnery where Sister Tin Tin Pe was speaking to Mr P.

‘Did you sleep well?' he asked.

‘Unbelievably well. I think all the walking we did yesterday wore me out.'

‘Everyone says they sleep well at a religious house. Perhaps it is the calm atmosphere and many blessings,' he said with a smile.

Natalie turned to Sister Tin Tin Pe. ‘I hope your work continues well,' she said. Reaching into her purse, she took out some US dollars and gave them to the nun. ‘Thank you for your hospitality and thank you for answering all my questions.'

‘Mingalabar. Blessings for the rest of your journey and the path you are following.'

Mr P took her bag and said, ‘We must go and say goodbye to your friends. And then we will drive to Pyin Oo Lwin.'

*

In her mind Natalie filed away the image of Mi Mi's parents standing close together, both wearing their longyi and formal tops, smiling and waving as the car drove away. She hoped Mi Mi would be pleased with the many photographs she had taken of them. Perhaps, thought Natalie, one day Mi Mi might be able to come and visit her parents. But quite a lot would have to change before that was possible.

Natalie swapped seats with Mr P and sat in the front, with her camera poised. She realised that she would be able to take much better photos from the front of the car where she could see the view ahead.

Mr P laughed and said that people would think that she was the guide and he was her tourist. Natalie was pleased that their relationship had developed to the point where they could joke with each other.

‘Well,' she replied, ‘I hope you're not a difficult one.'

They drove back through Mandalay towards Pyin Oo Lwin and Natalie noticed a turn-off.

‘Where does that go?' she asked.

‘A place called Mogok,' said Mr P.

Soe Soe, sitting beside her, shook his head. ‘No good. Cannot go.'

Mr P explained. ‘Mogok's where all the ruby mines are. It's a very bad road and dangerous. The military controls most of the mines and they don't allow visitors.'

‘Very famous for beautiful ruby and sapphire,' added Soe Soe. ‘But terrible for people.'

‘It is known that the junta makes both adults and children work there as slave labour,' said Mr P quietly. ‘When the rubies are in hard-to-get-at places, they send children down the crevices to mine by hand. If poor villagers find a ruby and use it as a means to try to escape over the border to buy a new life, and they're caught, they are put into one of the labour camps. All the money from the sale of the rubies goes to the military. The ordinary people get nothing.'

The road began to climb up towards Pyin Oo Lwin. On the way, Mr P pointed out a teak forest. Further on, they passed a small village of thatched bamboo huts where the wood smoke from the village fires curled lazily skyward. Natalie could see bamboo pens containing pigs and goats. Then the road levelled out with paddyfields growing on one side of it.

As the car swung around a corner they were confronted with a laden wooden-wheeled ox cart on the side of the road. A man stood beside it, examining one of its wheels. He hailed them.

Soe Soe did not slow, but Natalie said, ‘I think he needs help. Maybe the wheel is broken.'

Mr P spoke swiftly to Soe Soe who pulled over and reversed back along the road.

‘I will see what the matter is,' Mr P told Natalie. He got out of the car and walked back to the cart.

Natalie reached for her camera. ‘I must take a photo. That cart looks as though it's a hundred years old!'

‘Miss, please wait,' said Soe Soe.

But Natalie got out of the car and began to take photos of the yoked ox.

Mr P called to her to get back into the car but, before she could do that, two scruffy-looking soldiers walked out from behind the cart where they had obviously been hiding. One was carrying a rifle.

Feeling very frightened, Natalie quickly got back into the car. She dropped her camera into her bag.

Mr P began talking rapidly to the soldiers and the three of them started to walk towards the car. One of the soldiers rapped on the lid of the boot. Soe Soe released its latch and the men began rifling through its contents.

Natalie stuck her head out of the car window and, trying to sound stronger than she felt, called out, ‘Mr P, what is going on? Who are these men? Why are we stopped?'

‘They are soldiers. They want to know where we are going. They say they are looking for contraband,' said Mr P. ‘Please stay calm.'

‘What exactly are they looking for?' Natalie got out of the car.

‘I do not know if they understand English, Natalie.'

Natalie took the hint and didn't say anything more.

The men poked about in the boot and then took out Mr P's backpack and Natalie's suitcase, opened them up and began rifling through their belongings.

‘This is outrageous, they are personal belongings,' hissed Natalie under her breath. The sight of her clothes, her underwear and a sandal being dropped on the roadside felt like a personal violation. ‘I don't believe this is happening.' But as one of the soldiers walked to the front of the car she started to panic. ‘Now what?'

‘They want to see your papers.' Mr P walked over to her and gently rested his hand on Natalie's arm to reassure her.

Soe Soe continued to sit stoically behind the wheel, staring straight ahead. The soldier opened the passenger door and grabbed Natalie's handbag. He barked an order at Soe Soe, who slowly got out of the car. One soldier tipped the contents of Natalie's bag onto the ground and the other one bent down and picked up her wallet. Mr P tightened his grip on her arm as she instinctively went to lunge towards her personal effects. A soldier opened her passport, looked at it and then dropped it onto the ground. He took the remaining US dollars Natalie had in her wallet.

But when he picked up her camera and radio, she shouted out, ‘Leave that camera!'

The soldier looked at her in surprise. He lifted the camera and pointed it at her, pretending to take a photo. Smiling, he shoved it into his pocket. The other soldier began to speak urgently to him.

Natalie stared down at her little cosmetics bag, a bottle of water, wet tissues, a book, a notebook and the small silver vase, all scattered beside the road. Then it hit her. The kammavaca wasn't there. She looked at Mr P, who was still gripping her arm.

Soe Soe lit a cigarette and leaned against the car, waiting patiently for the ordeal to be over.

One of the soldiers spoke to Mr P in a very aggressive manner, but Mr P shrugged and lifted his arms, to give the impression he was confused as to why the soldiers expected them to be carrying anything of value.

Then one of the soldiers picked up the silver vase and pushed it into his pocket, then both retreated down the road.

A car swung around the corner, they got into it and the vehicle sped away. As it did so, one of the soldiers leaned out of the car window and snapped Natalie's photo.

She burst into tears. ‘The photos for Mi Mi . . . Oh no,' she sobbed. ‘We'll have to go back. I can't go home without pictures for Mi Mi.'

Natalie began picking up her things from the side of the road and putting them in her handbag. Mr P and Soe Soe went to the rear of the car and began collecting the scattered clothes.

‘Mr P, where's the kammavaca?' Natalie began frantically looking about on the floor of the car, but it wasn't there.

Mr P and Soe Soe put the bags back into the boot, Mr P returned to the back seat and Natalie sat next to Soe Soe again. Before he started the engine, the driver gave Natalie a small smile and from the pocket of his shirt, where he kept his cigarettes, he handed her a small object. It took a moment for Natalie to register what it was.

‘Mr P! Look! It's the memory card out of my camera! Soe Soe, you saved my photos! Thank you, thank you so much,' she gasped.

Mr P began to smile. ‘Clever. And quick thinking.'

Then Soe Soe reached under the dashboard of the car where there was normally a radio and pulled out the kammavaca, still safely rolled up in Natalie's silk scarf.

Natalie was speechless, but then she managed to ask Mr P, ‘How did he know to hide this?'

Mr P asked the driver the same question. Soe Soe answered in Burmese. ‘He says he heard us talking about the gift you had for the old princess,' Mr P told Natalie.

‘I don't remember saying anything about the kammavaca while we were in the car. In fact I'm sure that I didn't. Maybe I did say something before I knew that he understood English. Oh, I don't know. Honestly, I'm becoming paranoid. Forget what I just said. Thank you very much, Soe Soe, for saving my pictures and the princess's kammavaca. I am going to be very pleased when I meet the princess and I can finally give her the manuscript.'

‘It is also just as well that I have the rest of your money tucked away in a very safe place,' added Mr P. He opened his shirt a little to reveal an old-fashioned money belt.

‘You two have been my wonderful guardian angels,' said Natalie, her voice full of gratitude.

‘Please try to forget this bad episode,' said Mr P. ‘Those men were not real soldiers, just a couple of – what do you call them? – cowboys. Bad men trying to make a quick profit. It sometimes happens, so we know to be prepared. If you like, Natalie, you can use my camera for the remainder of your holiday.'

Natalie leaned back and closed her eyes. The last half an hour seemed like a very bad dream. One moment she had been feeling totally at peace and relaxed in Sagaing, happy at finding Mi Mi's parents and serene after her night at the nunnery, and then she was in the middle of a nightmare scenario. But at least no-one had been hurt and she really hadn't lost anything that could not be replaced. And she certainly had another exciting story to relate when she got back home.

At a roadside truck stop, where large lorries laden with Chinese goods were pulled over, they stopped for refreshments and a sweet fried doughnut. Mr P patted Natalie's shoulder as she sipped her coffee.

‘Please, do not let this make you feel badly towards my country. Theft happens everywhere.'

Natalie gave a small smile. ‘Of course. It could have been worse. You know, most of the people I have met in Burma have been lovely, so that thought will outweigh what just happened.'

They got back into the car and drove on. The scenery changed and, seemingly on cue, a misty shower of rain swept in, completing what Natalie imagined a British hill station would look like. Sweeping dark fir trees and solid oaks shaded flowering bulbs that burst through patches of thick green grass. They passed a roadside stall selling strawberries. Another advertised local coffee.

Then came the houses. Here, in the middle of Burma, stood stately, sprawling British brick houses, complete with chimneypots, turrets and mock Tudor trim set behind elaborate gates and sweeping driveways. It wasn't till Soe Soe slowed the car to give Natalie a better look that she saw that the gardens were overgrown, the entrance gates rusty and the grand houses dilapidated. When a horse-drawn carriage clipped smartly past them with its red and white trim and leather seats, Natalie was convinced that the next sight would be dandies in dress coats and ladies in crinolines. It was certainly cool enough and she was glad that the thieves had overlooked her lotus shawl.

‘Can we go in and look at one of these places?' she asked.

‘I know one that might interest you,' said Mr P.

The car slowed and turned where a buffalo wallowed in an overgrown drain on the roadside and grass thrust through the fancy loops of an iron fence. A sign picked out in peeling paint on a gate-post pillar read: Candacraig 1904.

The car wheels crunched on the untidy gravel drive and Natalie could see that while some effort had been made to tidy the formal front garden with its silent stained fountain and overgrown arbour, the once-grand hotel screamed neglect. Natalie got out of the car and gazed at the building. It seemed so English, and she felt an overwhelming sadness at its decline.

‘This must have been a marvellous hotel in its heyday. How romantic. And it could still be wonderful. I would love to fix this place up!'

She walked to the front entrance and into the hotel. The dining area and entertaining space, possibly a bar or a library, were devoid of furniture. A little girl sat playing with a kitten on the floor. A grand teak staircase swept up to the next floor.

Natalie's footsteps echoed as she wandered around admiring the beautiful carving while noticing that the walls were seeping a mildew acne in festering patches. Paler marks on them showed where paintings had once hung. All that remained was the head of a forlorn stag that had seen better days, which stared bleakly at its empty surrounds.

The doors of the rooms were open, showing that they were all empty of furniture, and from the balcony she could see the remains of a tennis court, a swimming pool and a cracked cricket pitch. What looked to have once been a conservatory now had broken panes of glass and small birds nested inside it.

But, despite the dilapidation, there hovered remnants of gay times gone by. In Natalie's imagination laughter drifted from the swimming pool, as well as the sound of the firm thunk of tennis balls, and the clink of teacups amid the drifting scent of roses and hyacinths.

‘I can just imagine what this must have been like,' she said to Mr P with a sigh.