It was our visit to Burma in 2012 @ Aye Mar’s parents home in Magway. Hannah sitting on the curb with a blue jacket.
( This post was first written around 2015 when our daughter Hannah was in seventh grade.)
Our daughter Hannah is in seventh grade now but has been taking accelerated English classes. Part of the required course work is having have to write a weekly journal for 2 pages. She has been wonderfully flourishing in this challenging environment. I have been reviewing her essays weekly and it has been a joy to read those. Sometimes I come to realize that she is more mature than I have given her the credit, based on her expression and the trail of thoughts in her essays. But this particular one struck Aye’s heart. One day she asked about the houses we lived in Burma as she had to write something about a home that one’s parents or grandparents used to live at. I told her that my parents never owned a house as we were government civil servants and used to live in government subsidized apartments.
Fortunately, Aye’s parents owned a home in Magway for decades and nowadays one of Aye’s sisters and family live there. Hannah has been there twice and has some memories of her visits. With that and Aye filling in the rest, she came up with the following journal entry. That made Aye nostalgic, reminded her of the childhood and the deceased parents who lived in that house till they passed away. Aye’s mom and dad built that house in the early years of their marriage and Aye grew up in that house her whole life till she went away for medical school. Tears welled up in Aye’s eyes and Hannah got worried. Aye had to reassure her that those were the tears of joy, a parent’s joy from her child’s scholastic accomplishment. I hope, we have provided our daughter a similar environment so that she can always look back to the place she grew up, a home!
The home in America Hannah grew up at for her whole life till she left for college.
HOME:
In the winter of 2012, my family and I travelled to Myanmar (Burma). Both my parents were born and raised there. The picture shows my late grandmother’s house when we visited her in the city of Magway where my mom grew up. Looking back, the visit was extremely sentimental, being it the last time my mom seeing her mom at her childhood home. Grandma had passed away since. The house was never extravagant and fancy since my mom’s family was not that well to do financially but it will always be strong enough to hold the memories made inside of it. When asked what was her best memory associated with the house, my mom gave a simple clear answer. She told me that there used to be an unfinished part of the house upstairs that acted like a balcony and in the summers my mom would sleep there under the stars with her sisters. The sky would be clear, with the moon shining brightly, while the light of a thousand stars would sparkle above. That part of the house has since been given walls and a roof for extra living space, but my mom still remembers the warm summer nights spent gazing at the sky. The rest of the house is as simple as the balcony was. There is a “living room” with cement floors and a couch. There is a plain bedroom where my grandma used to sleep in. On the upper floor, there is an attic like room with three beds that my mom and aunts used to sleep in. However my favorite area in the whole house is the kitchen. If you wanted to know what was for dinner, you would step in the kitchen where an aroma of smells and tastes would invite you. During my stay, I would often watch my mom and relatives cook, feeling in awe of all the possible creations that could be made with a handful of people and ingredients. Our dinner table was always full of multiple dishes.
During our stay in Magway, my family and I did not stay at the amazing house shown in the picture. However, we went there every day, each of those days cherished forever. To a normal looker, that house is just a house. But to me, that house is much more. It is the place my mom grew up in and left to seek a new adventure in America. It is the place she comes back to with her family to see her rest of the family. It is the place that I instantly fell in love with at one glance. It is the place where my grandmother spent her last seconds in this life. It is not a house, it is a home.
PART- III3 January 2010: Conference Room @ Dolphin Restaurant, Yangon:
As usual, Nyi Naing got tied up with a sick patient at the last minute and arrived late for the Saya Gadaw Pwe (Homage paying ceremony to former teachers). It was the class reunion and Saya Gadaw Pwe of his batch, 1988, IM-1. Twenty years after completion of internship, they were meeting for the first time again. The teachers were seated on the stage and the (former) students were sitting on the carpeted floor. Maung Maung Lay who was acting as the MC had just finished his opening speech and came to sit next to Nyi Naing.
“What made you late Saya Nyi? The liver transplant patient again? Someone was looking for you all over earlier.”
“Yes, even the fools are right sometimes. It was indeed the liver transplant patient whose bilirubin level bumped up this morning. Anyway, who was looking for me?”
Maung Maung Lay didn’t answer but gave a wicked look at Nyi Naing and lightly pointed his finger to the opposite direction. There sitting was a lady in blue dress and though it was close to fifty feet away, Nyi Naing wasn’t going to be mistaken. This is someone whose image is forever imprinted in his mind.
“Hlaing? From America? I didn’t realize she was attending the reunion”.
Maung Maung Lay said: “Me neither. It was a last-minute development. When she e mailed me two weeks ago, I was very surprised too. I didn’t know how she got my email address, perhaps from my magazine’s web page. But she requested me not to tell you. And she asked if you have a family now. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. We all are responsible adults and she is a married woman. I told you that I met her family in England a few years ago”.
Maung Maung Lay didn’t reply. As the MC, his next task was to briefly introduce each classmate to the audience. It was necessary since most looked completely different from how they looked during the student days. Without an introduction, most wouldn’t recognize one another. Not everyone was practicing medicine either. Maung Maung Lay himself had become a successful businessman in the field of publishing. His media empire includes publishing a few journals, a newspaper and running a popular media webpage in Myanmar.
Nyi Naing had become an associate professor of Surgery at YGH. A few years ago, he and Sayagyi Winston Hla successfully established the first liver transplant program in Myanmar and had just transplanted the third patient two weeks ago. This had been all over the news. The country’s Secretary (1) made a visit to hospital in cheering up the patient and to congratulate the transplant team. Minister of Health called Nyi Naing twice a week to get a progress report on the patient which he had to relay to the Secretary (1). They were given an open budget for the transplant program. Such a program is considered to be the only bright spot in an otherwise impoverished country and the government had used it to the hilt as a propaganda tool in uplifting the prestige of the nation. It was a team effort and was a long arduous preparation though. Nyi Naing and Sayagyi Winston Hla practiced the surgical technique on numerous pigs before they attempted on the humans. Nyi Naing was sent for extensive overseas training just for this project. He was at the famed liver transplant unit of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Hong Kong for eight months and another four months in Australia. They couldn’t afford any margin of error. Had the first patient died, the ministry was to shut down the program. Luckily all their hard work and efforts paid off. All three patients so far had been doing very well. It was the show case project of the nation and Nyi Naing’s name had been mentioned weekly in the news. Sayagyi Winston Hla had just retired and Nyi Naing had been tipped to be promoted to the post of full professor in further expanding the liver transplant program with a view to train the next generation of Myanmar surgeons. His star was rising fast.
Nyi Naing’s train of thoughts was suddenly interrupted as the name Hlaing Myat Thu was announced by the MC Maung Maung Lay. It turned out that Hlaing was an interventional cardiologist in Virginia these days. Saya Gadaw Pwe was followed by the get together luncheon. Most ignored food. Everybody was so excited and busy, moving, jostling, hugging, joking and trying to catch up the past twenty years, especially for the classmates who were visiting from overseas. Nyi Naing made an effort to go greet Hlaing who was surrounded by so many classmates. They didn’t get much private time to chat. Turned out she was flying to Pagan that night but returning to Yangon in three days’ time. She was staying at the Traders Hotel instead of her parents’ home. Makes sense if one’s spouse is a foreigner Nyi Naing thought. They exchanged cell phone numbers and Nyi Naing again had to leave the function early. This time it was an urgent call from the OR where his assistant needed help in operating a trauma patient who had a severe laceration of liver and bleeding to death. Being remained single with no regards for making money in the private sector, he was available for the hospital on a 24/7 basis which was very unusual for professors. But surgery was his life. That’s why he was so adored and respected by his peers and the trainees. He had been voted the best teacher by the house officers for three years in a row. Very few knew that he was engaged once but he broke off the engagement when he realized that he couldn’t truly commit to his fiancé when someone had already occupied his heart permanently with no rooms left. It was a mess.
7 January 2010: @ Dining Room, Traders (Shangri-La) Hotel, Yangon.
It started out with a text message in the morning. At first Nyi Naing couldn’t recognize the sender. But the subsequent text cleared thing up. It was from Hlaing who was back in Yangon following her Pagan trip. She wanted him to meet up for dinner at the hotel and had also asked to free up at least 2-3 hours out of his schedule so that they could chat and catch up. She said it was the only time she could see him since she was to fly back to America the next morning. Luckily it wasn’t Nyi Naing’s OR day. After shuffling his schedule at the last minute, Nyi Naing texted back an affirmative. A smiley face icon came back instantly.
Again, the dinner conversation was full of surprises. Nyi Naing learnt that May is in high school now and Hlaing is divorced from Robert. She didn’t delve much into details about her divorce but mentioned that she had no regret for the decision. On her iPhone, she showed Nyi Naing the pictures of May and she from their globe-trotting trips. It seemed both were adapting quite well to the single parent family life. Nyi Naing was pleased to learn that May liked Burmese cuisine. He remarked that Hlaing should have brought May during this visit to Myanmar. It was then Hlaing dropped another bombshell.
“That is exactly what I was thinking Naing. I was thinking of returning to Myanmar with May for good but wanted to come check out first before I pull the plug and later regret. I am concerned I may disappoint her. That was one of the main purposes of this last-minute trip to Myanmar.”
Nyi Naing’s jaw dropped. “You are thinking to come back? I mean, not that I don’t want you to. In fact, I’ll be the happiest person to see that happens, but I thought it won’t be very realistic. It will be very hard for both of you but especially for May to adapt.”
Hlaing continued. “I am glad to learn that you want to see me coming back Naing. Yes, it seems daunting. But the timing seemed right. As you can see, apart from May, I don’t have any attachment anymore in west. I am not seeing anybody steady after my divorce. And recently I was hearing a lot of good things about Myanmar’s transformation. DASSK is released from the house arrest. Multinational companies are thinking to come back for a second round of investments. With such an environment, I was thinking that I might be able to practice cardiology here in the private sector. Moreover, I feel a moral obligation to some of the people that I deserted abruptly two decades ago.”
Nyi Naing dared not ask whom she was referring to when she mentioned desertion since her elderly parents were still alive. But he asked the following.
“And what do you make of it now that you had been here for a week.”
Hlaing gave a disappointing look. “I am sad to say that it is not going to work out. You are right, it is not realistic. I had high hopes before this trip but it may have been because I was dreaming from afar and never returned to Myanmar in the past twenty years in learning the real situation on the ground. After being here for a week, I came to the conclusion that the timing is not right yet. There still is a big culture gap. The outlooks on life are so different. Let alone May, even I am not sure I can adapt. The promised transformation in the political climate doesn’t seem genuine or deep enough, at least for now. And I don’t think my private cardiology practice without any local connection will flourish. There is no meritocracy or open competition here. Everything depends on personal connections and whom you know in the hierarchy. And if I have to practice medicine the way it is in the current day Myanmar, my conscience won’t allow me to sleep well at night.”
Nyi Naing chuckled. “Well, you gave me high hopes at least for the past thirty seconds.”
Hlaing returned a mischievous smile. She finished up her glass of wine and said. “I don’t want to dash your hopes. I think I might have an alternative. But for now it is still a top secret on a need-to-know basis. So, shall we continue the conversation in my room? I don’t want other people in the dining room eavesdropping on my secret project”.
7 January 2010, @ Room number 858, Traders (Shangri-La) Hotel:
Nyi Naing didn’t know if it was Hlaing talking or the wine talking. To be honest, both of them were a little tipsy after finishing a bottle of the local wine, Ayetharyar, which was the product of a vineyard near Taunggyi. And that was how Nyi Naing had ended up in Hlaing’s hotel room. Hlaing stepped out from the bathroom after freshening herself up. She changed her evening gown too. She was in a lose cotton pants and a pink T-shirt. In those, she looked much younger than forty-five. Perhaps the temperate climate in west had been kind on her skin. And the daily Zumba at the gym seemed to have maintained her toned shape. She sat down on the sofa and gestured Nyi Naing to come sit next to her. When he did, she rested her head on his shoulder with eyes closed. Her flowing hair with a sweet citrus fragrance from the recent shampoo came to lie on his chest. Then she started talking.
“I actually stopped by at Singapore for three days on my way to Yangon. I liked what I saw. May should be able to adapt in Singapore too. A good friend of mine who was a co-fellow during our fellowship training is now a well-respected cardiologist there and he was more than happy to find me a job should I desire. He thinks with my training from UK and USA and with his connections, he can find me a job within one week. His wife was a good friend of mine too when they were in America. Since I had not checked Myanmar out at that time, I gave him no promises. But now with what I had seen in Myanmar, I think the best option would be to move to Singapore instead. But on one condition.”
“What is that?”
Hlaing lifted her head up from Nyi Naing’s shoulder and turned around facing him. Then she spoke softly, “Will you move to Singapore with me then? You have served in Burma selflessly for the past twenty years and that should be enough. You should not feel guilty about leaving the country now. Someone with your caliber should have no trouble finding a job in Singapore. And even if you can’t find one right away, we’ll have my income”.
“But Hlaing, but”
She silenced him with a finger over her lips. “It’s alright. You don’t need to answer this to me now. For tonight I have some other ideas.”
With that she leaned over and started kissing him on the lips. Nyi Naing’s mind was foggy. He was in a trance state both from the unexpected question of Hlaing and the stirring passion rising inside his body. How long has he waited for this moment? Perhaps too long. They both were free and consenting adults. So, what did he have to care? He started returning her kisses in earnest. She held him back tight. His hands ran down her back under the T-shit. After a few minutes, Nyi Naing stood up. He walked across the room to close the window blinds. Then he turned off the ceiling lights leaving only the faint night light to glow. As he turned around, Hlaing was standing up. In this half-lit darkness, her naked silhouette was like a master piece sculpture of a Greek goddess from the Louvre Museum. Mesmerized, Nyi Naing lifted her up and gently laid her down on the bed. He started kissing her lips to toes. With each kiss she shivered. The room became full of labored and frenzied breathings. It seemed like an eternity but finally they let out a moan together and collapsed on to one another.
Hlaing was fidgety. In fifteen minutes, her flight would be boarding. She clutched her iPhone tightly checking every minute for this “ping” that announces an incoming message. Nyi Naing was called back to hospital at 3AM by his assistant for a patient who required an emergency esophageal transection from uncontrolled variceal bleeding. Supposedly it would be a four-hour procedure and Hlaing’s flight being at 8 AM, Nyi Naing had told her ahead that he would not be able to send her off to the airport. But he promised to call or at least send a text. As he was dressing to leave the hotel room, he also mentioned that the Professor whom he went to get liver transplant training in Hong Kong had taken up a department chair position at Singapore General Hospital and he was in touch with him to present a paper on the Myanmar Liver Transplant Program’s experience. The professor was so impressed by the initial abstract and the outcome data that he told Nyi Naing about his willingness to take him in anytime should Nyi Naing wanted to come work with him in Singapore. Sounded very encouraging. Finally, and for the first time in the past twenty-five years, may be the two lovers can be together. Or are they?
Then she noticed the unmistakable ping. There it is. Even without checking the screen, Hlaing could tell how the text would be phrased. It would be either
“Tha Nge Chin Htet Ma Ka Lo Khor Chin Bi Hlaing” (i.e., I’d rather be more than friends Hlaing).
Or “Tha Nge Chin Lo Bei Set Yway Khor Chin Thi Hlaing” (i.e., I’d rather continue calling you a friend Hlaing).
She closed her eyes momentarily. She didn’t know whether she had the courage to read the message now. Should she wait till she lands in America or should she just delete it? Or ……
I have witnessed my fair share of hardship in life, may it be career or monetary or health or relationship wise. Mostly those pales to what we, especially for the citizens of Burma, have been going through during the past two years. But I am afraid the worst is yet to be over. A year ago, I thought the worst was over with the development of COVID vaccines and 2021 was to be a better year till this idiotic thugs Min Aung Hlaing & Co. came up with a different idea and staged a military coup followed by the widespread blood shed that is still ongoing. As hard as it is to predict when the military collapses, my faith remains unshaken that the people of Burma are to prevail for they are on the right side of the history. Let’s hope that this will be in 2022 and more importantly let’s work together that it takes place in 2022. But life is more than politics. I also have non-Burmese friends who look at 2022 from a different perspective understandably. On this new year eve, I wish my friends who are not engaged in Burmese politics a happy and healthy 2022 like many of us want it to be. Brother Lennon had said “Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans”. That’s dope bro and me wishes it’s that simple. But for my fellow Burmese, I’d rather quote one by the wise master Yoda who said, “No longer certain, that one ever does win a war, I am. For in fighting the battles, the bloodshed, already lost we have. Yet, open to us a path remains. That unknown to the Sith is. Through this path, victory we may yet find. Not victory in the Clone Wars, but victory for all time”. Yes, open us up a path in the midst of the chaos my lord! To those who gave up their lives for this cause, I promise your sacrifice would not be forgotten or wasted! And to those who had allowed me work along with, it has been an absolute privilege and honor. Onwards to the victory for all times in 2022 my fellow comrades!
ခုခေတ်မြန်မာစစ်တပ်ရဲ့ တိုက်ရည်ခိုက်ရည် ညံ့ဖြင်းပုံကို social media မှာမကြာခဏမြင်တွေ့နေရပေမဲ့ ခုတော့အထောက်အထားနဲ့ ပြလို့ရပါပြီ။ Bad mouthing, army bashing လို့တန်ပြန်ပြောလို့မရတော့ပါဘူး။ ဘဦးဟာmilitary training မရှိဘူးတဲ့ သာမန်အရပ်သားပါ။ History channel မှာ major battles တွေကို review လုပ်ပြတာတွေကိုတော့ သမိုင်းဝါသနာပါသူအနေနဲ့လိုက်ကြည့်ဘူးတာလေးလောက်နဲ့ပြောပါတယ်။ ပိုတတ်ရင်ပြင်ပေးနိုင်ပါတယ်။
June 1990: Departure Lounge@ Mingaladon Airport, Yangon:
“I Hope I can join you very soon Hlaing” Nyi Naing said.
“Me too. I hope to pass the PLAB exam soon enough that I can bring you over there shortly” Hlaing said.
Hlaing had taken a bold step in sitting for the Professional and Linguistic Assessment Board (PLAB) exam in UK. It was quite unusual those days for a single woman with no relatives or a support system in UK to attempt the PLAB. All she knew was an elderly English couple whom her dad had acquainted while he was working at Myanmar Embassy in UK during the late 60s. They kindly gave her a sponsorship and a promise to help her out during the first few months. After that she would be on her own, sink or swim. Due to the restricted foreign currency exchange rules, it was quite costly to purchase air tickets or pay for the exam fees from Myanmar those days. With that and the uncertainty of passing the exam, Nyi Naing couldn’t take a chance like Hlaing. His parents were not well off and they needed his help in sending his younger siblings to college. They spent all of their earnings and savings in sending Nyi Naing to medical school and now it was his turn to work and return the favor. Business at his GP practice in Hlaing Township had just started to pick up and he couldn’t afford to throw in the towel at that point. Those days PLAB was notorious for its high failure rate especially for the Myanmar candidates since they were unfamiliar with the exam format, being isolated from the world during the preceding two decades. Every foreign medical graduate needs to pass this test if he or she wishes to work or be trained at British hospitals. It is an equivalent to USMLE exam in USA. But this was the strong willed Hlaing, one who had always yarned to visit the west again. Nyi Naing just had to accept her decision. He was hoping that in another year or two, he could close his GP practice and try to join Hlaing in UK. He needed that much time to polish his English skills too.
“Will you promise to write me every week?” Nyi Naing asked.
“Of course, Naing.”
“Pinky promise Hlaing?”
“Yes, pinky promise, now would you kiss me for the last time Naing?”
Before he could say anything, she dragged him to a little corner at the balcony, hugged him tight and gave a warm kiss on his lips. As quick as the kiss was, she broke off suddenly and asked him to leave before she boarded the plane. She said she had never cried in public and didn’t want this to be the first time and she might if she saw Nyi Naing waving goodbye. Realizing that he too would perhaps do the same when her plane took off, Nyi Naing accepted the suggestion and started walking away. As he was leaving, he ran into Tun Oo who was entering the terminal. He gave a polite greeting and asked where he was heading. Turned out that Tun Oo was to be on the same flight, planning to sit for the PLAB in UK like Hlaing. Nyi Naing wished him good luck in the exams and made a quiet exit. He trusted Hlaing and yet his heart was heavy for no reasons. Next and for the first time, he decided to close his GP that evening and went to a bar with his best friends Soe Than and Maung Maung Lay. In the end he sobbed like a baby that night though he was too drunk to be ashamed of.
December 1991: @ Thuyain GP Clinic. Kamaryut Railway Station Road, Hlaing Township:
Nyi Naing got off the trishaw and trudged into the clinic building. He was more than two hours early and no patient was there yet. Not even his front desk helper Maung Zaw Lin. But that was by design. He didn’t want to meet anybody while he was reading Hlaing’s letter one more time.
The past one and a half year had been tough for everybody. Hlaing was very stressed in UK. She failed PLAB twice already and was to take the last and the final attempt very soon. Her finances were tight. She was writing less and less frequently to Nyi Naing and whenever she did, she sounded defeated. She said there were so many new things to be acclimatized. Weather was harsh. She was lonely yet phone calls to Myanmar were very expensive. She had to work part-time as an aid at a nursing home to make ends meet while studying day and night for the exam. The only thing in her favor was that she didn’t need much polishing in her English. In the meantime, Nyi Naing’s father suddenly passed away from a stroke. He had three younger siblings who were still in school. It became impossible for him to leave Myanmar, at least for the next few years. He couldn’t leave his mom and the younger siblings high and dry. Moreover, government jobs were becoming very attractive and easy to come by since many doctors resigned while others left for abroad as long as they were financially capable. Ministry of Health (MOH) then came out with a new policy that, unlike before, the newly appointed assistant surgeons (AS) would be assigned only at the teaching hospitals during the first two years. Only later they would be sent to the districts. MOH felt that the change would benefit the rural hospitals better since they would be receiving a seasoned AS than one who had just come out of internship. But that inadvertently opened up a door for those who were smart and willing to work hard. During that first two years, if one could pass the MSc entrance exams, he or she would be considered a post graduate (PG) trainee and hence would not be sent out to the districts. The opportunities in the career ladder seemed to have become wide open and readily accessible for those who wanted to work hard. Hence, Nyi Naing was having second thoughts in not joining the government service. His only reason was that entering the government civil service would prevent him from joining Hlaing in UK.
But that dream was shattered on that day. He started to read Hlaing’s letter again which he received in the morning. It said: “Forgive me Naing though I can fully understand if you don’t. It’s too much to explain now and I don’t want to sound like an innocent one justifying my actions. May be one day I can fully explain this to you. But for now, I’d rather call you “a friend” Naing!” Love. Hlaing. It was short but was more than enough to relay the intended message. Between Hlaing and Naing, they both knew what this sentence of “rather call you a friend” meant. It was their personal coded message. That was a Dear John letter. After all, their relationship was first announced in an opposite way, “I’d rather not call you a friend”. That night Nyi Naing submitted his application for a government employed doctor (AS) job. And he received no further letters from Hlaing.
Later and little by little he learnt more about Hlaing from his friend Soe Than who went to UK. Contrary to Nyi Naing’s initial suspicion, it was nothing to do with Tun Oo. That smarty pant did quite well though, passing the PLAB exam in his first attempt and was already aiming for the MRCP diploma and beyond. Hlaing met a German doctor who came for rounds at the nursing home she worked as an aid. Learning that Hlaing was a doctor, he helped her a lot both career wise and in financial means. He got her into a clinical attachment position at a nearby teaching hospital. Supposedly he was a very nice gentleman. Eventually proximity begets intimacy, especially when one was downtrodden and lonely. To make the long story short, Hlaing fell in love with that German guy. She passed the PLAB exam in her last attempt and was finally able work as a doctor too. The last Soe Than heard of Hlaing was that, there were to be married next year in Germany, at his home town. Nyi Naing didn’t feel bitter. He just blamed himself that he couldn’t be next to her when she was vulnerable and needed him the most. He just accepted this as his fate and tried to devote his life to medicine from then onwards. He promised himself that one day he’ll get himself a MRCP and a period of overseas training in the west. That was what Hlaing had wanted to have him in the first place. He had failed her twice before, once during the 1988 uprising and later in not accompanying her to UK soon enough. He won’t fail her for the third time. By hook or by crook, he would get a MRCP.
Late Spring 1998: @ City of Chester, England:
Nyi Naing’s initial fears were unfounded. Robert was such a nice gentleman. He genuinely showed interest in the affairs of Myanmar and made Nyi Naing feel at ease right away. If there were any awkward moments, it was all from Nyi Naing. May be that’s a skill in life that Myanmars need to pick up from the westerners, how to show no animosity towards the wife’s ex-boyfriend over a dinner.
Nyi Naing arrived to UK six months ago as a Myanmar government’s state scholar. In Myanmar, after his first posting as a newly minted AS at Sayagyi Professor Winston Hla’s surgical ward, Nyi Naing was sold into Surgery. He threw away the dream of becoming a physician and shifted gears to become a surgeon. He eventually completed his MSc (Surgery) and was then sent to complete his Fellowship of the Royal Colleges of Surgeons (FRCS) training in UK. He was assigned at a teaching hospital in Birmingham area. By then quite a few of his classmates had settled well in UK. Through that old friend network, he had reconnected with many of them except Hlaing. He learnt that she and her husband were living in Cheshire. He deliberately made no attempt to contact her. It was Hlaing who tracked down Nyi Naing’s phone number and invited him to come visit her family in Chester that weekend.
While the three grown-ups were sipping wine and savoring the Sunday Roast and the Yorkshire pudding, Hlaing’s daughter May, who was three-year-old, played with her princess dolls in the living room.
Hlaing said, “Sorry for the last-minute invite Naing but I had just realized that we have only two more weeks left in UK and I wanted you to meet Robert and May while we are still here.”
That came as a surprise. Nyi Naing said, “What do you mean Hlaing?”
“We are moving to America. Both Robert and I will be starting our residency training over there in three weeks. And it seemed that we are moving there for good with no plan to return to UK.”
Before he could even think he blurted out: “Do you have to?”
“In a sense yes. You see, as an overseas graduate from Myanmar, I have not been progressing well in my career in UK. For example, I had been trying to get into the Cardiology Specialist Registrar training to no avail during the past two years. Having MRCP is not enough. Robert is also very interested in the bench research in his field. But funding for basic science research in UK is not as generous as in America. Of course, he can always return to Germany but with me not speaking German, I won’t find a job there. Therefore, we decided that America will be a good fit as the neutral third country for both of us. And that’s why we don’t think we’ll come back to UK either”.
There you go again Hlaing, a girl full of surprises, at least for Nyi Naing. One who always embraces change and adventure. And for the next two hours they tried to catch up which meant it was mostly Hlaing inquiring about friends and family in Myanmar. She hadn’t visited Myanmar since she left seven years ago. She was a bit out of the loop even from the classmates who were in England. When she learnt that Nyi Naing remained single, her eyes suddenly looked soulful though nobody except Nyi Naing noticed it. And finally, it was time for Nyi Naing to leave. He took the Intercity train from Birmingham to Chester. Robert volunteered to stay behind and watch May while Hlaing drove Nyi Naing back to the train station.
It was an extremely quite ride until Hlaing started:
“Naing, it’s about another forty-five minutes before your train departs. Can we stop for a few minutes to chat? I know a nice place where we can park the car and walk a short distance over the stone bridge crossing the River Dee. From there you can also see the Chester Cathedral in a distance”.
“Sure Hlaing.”
It was about eight o’clock but being spring, the sun had already set. The River Dee which Nyi Naing felt to be the size of a brook for Burmese standard was flowing quietly under the bridge transecting the town of Chester. After walking a few feet along the pedestrian path, they stopped in the middle of the ancient stone bridge.
“I don’t know how to thank you for coming out to see me Naing. I was worried that you might be resentful towards me. To be honest, since I learnt that you arrived to UK a few months ago, I meant to invite you over but was worried that you may turn down my invitation. But when I realized that I have only two more weeks to stay in this country, I just had to take the chance. And I am glad I did. I am also very proud of you of what you have become Naing, a soon to be a FRCS surgeon, a job at the professorial surgical ward in Myanmar waiting. Your English has improved so much that I couldn’t even recognize you at first on the phone. And you had achieved all those within the past seven years. Do you still have time to compose poems?”
“Thank you for the kind words, Hlaing. Being single helped. Without any family responsibilities, I was able to devote myself to the study of Medicine and English at all times. And no, I don’t compose poems anymore. Can’t get into the writing mood. And by the way you have a very beautiful family. Robert is such a nice man and May is so cute”.
“I know Naing but sometimes I lament and feel guilty of what I did to you. Will you forgive me?”
“I always forgive you Hlaing.”
“Sorry, I should have known that too Naing. It’s not an excuse but those were my bleakest days in life. I was so lonely and desperate in a foreign land where every attempt was a failure.”
“Let’s not talk about the past Hlaing. In life, what doesn’t kill makes you stronger. At this point you should be appreciative of what you have now, a lovely family and a beautiful daughter. In a sense those bleak days took you to where you are now. So, you should be thankful.”
“True and thanks for being such a gentleman Naing. I have never felt so relieved like now. But can I still ask you for one more favor?”
“Shoot Hlaing.”
“Can I continue calling you a “friend” Naing?”
“I will forever be your friend Hlaing and you will be mine too. Now let’s get back to the train station. If I miss this one, the next one won’t be till 11 PM and I have to be in OR (Operating Room) by 5 AM tomorrow”.
Hlaing seemed to have become very relieved for the first time in the whole evening. There was a notably radiant smile from her for the rest of the car ride. She dropped him off at the station but after flashing the hazards lights, she got out and quickly came around to his side of the car. Glowingly, she planted a quick kiss on Nyi Naing’s cheeks and said,
“Goodbye Naing. Hope to see you again somewhere sometimes and hopefully with Mrs. Naing then.”
Then she drove off. And that was the last Nyi Naing saw of her, at least for another decade.
Nyi Naing’s surgical training in England was a smooth sailing. Since he had already passed the Myanmar version of the FRCS exam, which was MSc (Surgery), the British exam wasn’t a tough one to overcome. And under the close tutelage of his Professor Sayagyi Winston Hla at New Yangon General Hospital in Myanmar, Nyi Naing was so already well trained in the fundamentals of surgery that he was ready to operate efficiently in the British ORs. The British consultants were very impressed by him. Since he passed the FRCS relatively quick, he also had a chance to go through the hands-on training for a longer period than others who were focused on passing the exam. As his elective, he spent six months at the solid organ transplant surgery division of the famed Birmingham General Hospital. But during his next two years in England, he never heard anymore again from Hlaing in USA.
(This piece was first written around 2013. It was based on the events leading to and during the turbulent times, around 1988, when Burma went through a nationwide uprising toppling the then socialist government and then followed through for the next two decades in the lives of Nyi Naing and Hlaing. Yet with the Spring Revolution of 2021, a sense of de javu has returned. The emotional scars of 8888 are coming back to haunt many lately. The story is mostly fictional but there also may be a thin veil separating the characters in this story from those in real life. Many are walking different paths and living different lives thirty years later but the author feels it still resonates well with what’s happening today. Yet reminiscence is the only solace the author can find now while desperately hoping for better times.)
Fall, 1984: A meeting room next to the Students’ Affairs Dept. @ Institute of Medicine 1
“Alright, let’s get rolling with the meeting” hollered Ko Aung Myint Htoo, who was the chief editor of medical school’s annual magazine. “As usual, now is the time of the year to elect new members of the magazine committee. We need one representative from each class for both Myanmar and English sections. For the most part in senior classes, the committee members remain unchanged from the previous year unless one resigns or another challenger comes up which often is never. Nobody wants to spend countless and thankless hours working on the magazine unless you are a literary nut. Even for a literary lover, most rather contribute articles than be in the actual magazine committee. But it is a little different for the second MB class who had just entered the medical school. This will be their first year in the magazine committee and we expect to have some fresh blood. Secretary Ko Ye Tint Kyaw, have you counted the ballots?
It sounded quite democratic but to be honest, like anywhere in the world, there also was a little inner circle of literary lovers or a magazine mafia in the schools. Most of the times, those who were already in the magazine committee would do a scouting work by looking at who submitted stories and poems the previous years. Then they would indirectly coax or guide those individuals to run for the election and win. The only exception may be in the English section where the faculty advisors from the department of English often suggest a few names who were strong in English based on their personal connection or the English test scores. Ko Ye Tint Kyaw announced, “Ma Hlaing Myat Thu for the English section and Ko Nyi Nyi Naing for the Myanmar section from the second MB class. Make sure you two mark your calendars to be available on the first Wednesday of the month. That day after school, magazine committee meets monthly”.
That did not come as a surprise. Hlaing Myat Thu’s English was impeccable since she spent a few years overseas as a kid when her father was working as a junior officer at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. While Nyi Naing and many others who graduated from the district high schools with socialist era English curriculum struggled to write a page long narrative, she was composing poems in English like a native speaker then. As different as their backgrounds were, they fast became friends. She was head strong for a Myanmar girl and many mistook her for being a prude whereas in reality she was being independent and outspoken. She was just a bit bohemian. Nyi Naing always wondered if poet (sayamagyi) Kyi Aye’s persona would have been like Hlaing when she was young. Hlaing liked Nyi Naing for of his humility, honesty and sincerity which were rare qualities among the male medical students. Most were either nerdy book worms or spoiled brats who were treated as privileged ones in the families just because they got into the medical school. As a result, most had substandard EQs and zero interpersonal relationship skills. Nyi Naing was a rare exception. Perhaps his parents, both of whom were high school teachers, coached him well.
Fall 1985: At the corridor next to the third MB lecture hall, IM-1.
“Nyi Naing, may I speak you for a moment?” said Tun Oo. It caught Nyi Naing by surprise. Sure, he knew Tun Oo, who didn’t? But they would never consider each other as close friends to make casual chats while passing by. He was a big shot, son of a famous consultant physician in Yangon and was also an academic high achiever. He got distinctions every year in medical school. He came to school driving his own car when Nyi Naing daily commuted via the ever-crowded Yangon City Buses from public transportation service.
“Sure, what can I do?” said Nyi Naing.
“How can I be in the school magazine committee, particularly in the English section? Since you are in the magazine committee, maybe you can pull some strings for me?”
Now Nyi Naing understood where he was coming from. In the class, one didn’t need to be Einstein to observe that Tun Oo had a crush on Hlaing Myat Thu. It was also a no secret that Hlaing had no interest in Tun Oo. Though he had better English than Nyi Naing since he went to a famous missionary school in Yangon, he was never known to be into literature. He simply wanted to impress Hlaing or get closer to her by being in the same magazine committee.
“I am sorry Ko Tun Oo, it doesn’t work that way. Magazine committee is made up of those who are dedicated in bringing out a school magazine either by their literature contribution or are willing to sacrifice their study time in taking care of the magazine affairs. If you are really interested, my suggestion is to submit your work to the magazine committee and make everybody aware that you are a true literary lover. That will give you a good chance to be elected in the next year’s committee. That’s the best advice I can give.”
Tun Oo turned around suddenly and walked away without saying a thank you. And Tun Oo wasn’t the first one who had approached Nyi Naing in thinking that he may be able to put in good words for them in trying to win Hlaing Myat Thu’s heart. Too bad none realized that Nyi Naing had feelings for Hlaing too.
Summer 1986: Final Part-1 PSM field trip @ Kyon Pyor Township:
“I don’t read Burmese novels except by one particular author” Hlaing Myat Thu said.
She and Nyi Naing were sitting under a Tamarind tree on the bank of the little dam at the outskirt of the town. It was the usual after dinner stroll by the group. The rest of the group members were a little further ahead having fun wading in the ankle-deep water. It was about 7PM and the sweltering heat had just given way for the evening breeze. Eight final part one medical students were there for two weeks, attached to the township medical hospital to be exposed to rural medicine as required by the school’s Community Medicine curriculum.
“Really, by whom?” Nyi Naing asked in surprise. He was a big fan of Maung Sein Win, Min Lu and the ilk then. He was dabbling in poetry too.
“I don’t know why but I can’t feel or appreciate most of them. May be because when I was young, I didn’t grow up reading Burmese books. The only novels I enjoy reading are the ones by Takatho Phone Naing, such as “Ta Pyi Thu Ma Shwe Htar (i.e., Htar from overseas), “Moe Nya Ein Met Myu (i.e., Fog of the rainy night) or “Tha Nge Chin Lo Pei Set Yway Khor Mi Khine (i.e., I’d rather keep on calling you a friend Khine) etc.”
“Really, why do you think you could connect with him though?”
“May be because most of his characters were western trained academicians. May be because he often included his own experience as a state scholar in the stories and I was able to relate to the stories. May be in my subconscious mind, I want to return to west where I spent the first few years of my childhood which was very memorable. Maybe I don’t fully understand the nuances, metaphors and the plot construction with their subtle but implied meanings in Myanmar prose. I don’t know and sometimes I am confused about this world around me, really.”
Nyi Naing made a deep sigh and said, “Will you be confused if I now tell you that, I wish to call you more than a friend Hlaing?”
This time Hlaing got it. She stared at Nyi Naing for a few seconds. Then suddenly and without saying a word, she planted a quick kiss on Nyi Naing’s cheek, made a giggle and dashed off to the other girls who were walking back towards them. After a few steps, she turned around and said, “I can be more than friends with you Naing”. Nyi Naing sat still. He wondered how many Myanmar girls reply by a kiss when a boy makes his first proposal. Earlier, he had told Hlaing that his mom calls him just “Naing” at home. A smile came on Nyi Naing’s face. Both women whom he loved most in this world now call him “Naing”. What a lucky man he was!
20 September 1988: House officer on-call room @ West Yangon General Hospital:
“Please change your decision Hlaing, I think it is much riskier to take that route than staying put here” Nyi Naing said.
“ Naing, it’s not because I am worried of being arrested by staying in Yangon and wanted to go into hiding. I just felt that justice needs to be served. Those cruel military dictators needed to be retaliated by an armed uprising. That’s the only language they understand, the one that comes out of a gun barrel and the justice they deserve. See what we get by the peaceful protests on the streets of Yangon?”
Following the 8888 revolution, the military staged a coup the day before and had started forcefully clamping down the demonstrations. Both Hlaing and Naing were house officers at that time. Hlaing had been a firebrand and was more involved in the uprising. Just yesterday she participated in the last round of demonstration near the Sule Pagoda when army opened fire. Hundreds died in front of her eyes and she was lucky to be unharmed. A night time curfew had been declared and the military intelligence agents were arresting activists by going on a house-to-house search. She was thinking of running away to the jungles of Thai-Myanmar border where supposedly a student army would be formed with the help of the local ethnic rebels who had been fighting the central government for decades. A few medical students had secretly arranged to leave Yangon that night from the Sin-Oo-Tan jetty in a fishing boat which promised to take them to either Moulmein or Dawei as the first leg of the journey. With many security checkpoints, travel by land was considered unsafe. Nyi Naing was desperately pleading her not to join the voyage.
“Look Hlaing, please don’t make important decisions in a haste. We are just six months shy of finishing our internships and getting our medical licenses. Otherwise, all that we had worked hard for in the past 7-8 years will be a waste. I promise that once we finish our internships and if you are still dedicated to join the underground revolution, I will come along with you to wherever you decide go. But this time, please listen to me.”
Hlaing displayed a little hesitancy but still she didn’t promise Nyi Naing anything. She said, “There will be a few girls in the group including Cynthia Aung.”. Cynthia was a house officer like them but was from Institute of Medicine 2. Knowing how stubborn Hlaing could be, Nyi Naing had no choice but to use the last option. He secretly informed Hlaing’s parents of her plans. He made them promise that they never disclose who tipped them off or even acted as if they had been tipped off. For the next few weeks, Hlaing was either constantly accompanied by one parent or was under the constant surveillance that she never had a chance to join the new student army, All Burma Students’ Democratic Front (ABSDF) that was formed at the Thia-Burma border. But then with the news trickling back on how tough and unpredictable things really were in the border areas, she finally gave up the plan to join the armed revolution.
