To catch you up, this has been the best week by far!
On the 2nd, I spent the afternoon playing soccer in the rain and teaching my Grade 9 friends Math SAT questions (or rather they were teaching me.. ;)
That night, U Zaw Win Cho, my tour guide from this winter and newly appointed Burmese uncle, picked me up for dinner at his house. There, I met his associate, Nang Ye Wai Lwin, who taught me the ingredients for pizza in Burmese so that to go to the market and make pizza at the school's kitchen. My dream was squandered, unfortunately, when everyone told me that no one at school likes pizza.... Crazies.
The next day, at five o'clock in the morning Daw Myat Myat Win took me to Swezigon, Nyaung Oo's prized, golden pagoda. After worship, I took her back to my favorite tea shop to have breakfast and meet my young friend, Maung Khaing, who worked in the shop and served me tea daily.
Since I had met the boy, I wondered about his childhood. Why was he not in school? Where was his family? Who was his family? I wanted this seemingly bright, hardworking boy to have his childhood back. There must have been a way for him to get an education.
As Daw MMW translated, I learned that the boy's mother, father, and four sisters lived in a village two hours away and worked on a farm making barely enough money to survive. The family had sent him to Yangon (the capital 12 hours away by bus) last year to work, as a ten-year old, in a tea shop there. Fortunately, they brought him back to work in the tea shop in Nyaung Oo last year. His eldest sister continues to work in Yangon at a factory that makes plastic water bottles
.
I realized then, that this boy was not just a friend who served me tea and joked with me as we tried to communicate. He was someone who, like so many Burmese children his age, was robbed of his youth and his future by poverty.
.
With his evident charisma and work ethic, Maung Khaing needed to go to school. I knew that the bank had recently opened its money wiring service and it would be easy for me to work in America to send his parents money while he attended the Zaytawun School.
I asked Daw MMW if this was acceptable, and she eagerly agreed, but was quick to tell me that I needed to talk to the monks and his parents before anything was decided.
We told Maung Khaing that there may be a chance to go to school. He replied with a fervent nodding and wide smile.
Back at the monastery the monks agreed for Maung Khaing to stay at the monastery. (!)
The next day, I met U Sai - the English speaking coordinator for Zaytawun - to explain Maung Khaing's situation to him. He agreed to come along to negotiate and translate for MK's family. He called the jeep company and in no time, he, Daw Myat Myat Win, one of the head monks, and I piled into the tiny jeep and sped down the winding dirt roads towards Maung Khaing's village.
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There we were warmly welcomed by the curious villagers and MK's family. As we negotiated MK's schooling, the entire village came to watch (I had the feeling that not many foreigners take the two hour long, bumpy journey to their village. I imagine that the 20 foot tall white teenage girl, monk, educated Burmese tour guide, and their son's future teacher sitting in their hut were their entertainment for the week.
Just before we left, after deciding that Maung Khaing would go to school so long as I paid the $30/month salary to his parents*, Maung Khaing's mother preformed a traditional, medicinal procedure on Daw MMW's toothache. After recieving a lifetime supply of Jaggery (balls of cane sugar), we stuffed ourselves in the Jeep and went back to the monastery.
.JPG)
On the way home, MK agreed to the following three conditions:
-Study as hard as you possibly can
-Don't smoke or chew red beetle (two common activities for young men, equal to smoking or chewing tobacco in the United States during the 1950s)
-Have fun
The following day Maung Khaing attended his first day back to school (he had dropped out of the school in his village after grade 4). He will finish grade five in April.
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*I understand that many people sponsoring students have been unfairly cheated out of their money by the children's parents. To insure that this is not my case, I will have U Sai Wunna be responsible for the funds I send. He is a very well respected, intelligent and honorable man who I would trust with anything, especially the welfare of Maung Khaing's scholarship. He is reporting to me monthly with Maung Khaing's progress in school. The boy's family also understands that I am working in the US for the money, not simply doling it from my pocket. It was clear to me that they want the best possible education for their son.
The next day, at five o'clock in the morning Daw Myat Myat Win took me to Swezigon, Nyaung Oo's prized, golden pagoda. After worship, I took her back to my favorite tea shop to have breakfast and meet my young friend, Maung Khaing, who worked in the shop and served me tea daily.
Since I had met the boy, I wondered about his childhood. Why was he not in school? Where was his family? Who was his family? I wanted this seemingly bright, hardworking boy to have his childhood back. There must have been a way for him to get an education.
As Daw MMW translated, I learned that the boy's mother, father, and four sisters lived in a village two hours away and worked on a farm making barely enough money to survive. The family had sent him to Yangon (the capital 12 hours away by bus) last year to work, as a ten-year old, in a tea shop there. Fortunately, they brought him back to work in the tea shop in Nyaung Oo last year. His eldest sister continues to work in Yangon at a factory that makes plastic water bottles
.
I realized then, that this boy was not just a friend who served me tea and joked with me as we tried to communicate. He was someone who, like so many Burmese children his age, was robbed of his youth and his future by poverty.
.
With his evident charisma and work ethic, Maung Khaing needed to go to school. I knew that the bank had recently opened its money wiring service and it would be easy for me to work in America to send his parents money while he attended the Zaytawun School.
I asked Daw MMW if this was acceptable, and she eagerly agreed, but was quick to tell me that I needed to talk to the monks and his parents before anything was decided.
We told Maung Khaing that there may be a chance to go to school. He replied with a fervent nodding and wide smile.
Back at the monastery the monks agreed for Maung Khaing to stay at the monastery. (!)
The next day, I met U Sai - the English speaking coordinator for Zaytawun - to explain Maung Khaing's situation to him. He agreed to come along to negotiate and translate for MK's family. He called the jeep company and in no time, he, Daw Myat Myat Win, one of the head monks, and I piled into the tiny jeep and sped down the winding dirt roads towards Maung Khaing's village.
.JPG)
There we were warmly welcomed by the curious villagers and MK's family. As we negotiated MK's schooling, the entire village came to watch (I had the feeling that not many foreigners take the two hour long, bumpy journey to their village. I imagine that the 20 foot tall white teenage girl, monk, educated Burmese tour guide, and their son's future teacher sitting in their hut were their entertainment for the week.
Just before we left, after deciding that Maung Khaing would go to school so long as I paid the $30/month salary to his parents*, Maung Khaing's mother preformed a traditional, medicinal procedure on Daw MMW's toothache. After recieving a lifetime supply of Jaggery (balls of cane sugar), we stuffed ourselves in the Jeep and went back to the monastery.
.JPG)
(Maung Khaing's family and villagers walking us to the Jeep)
On the way home, MK agreed to the following three conditions:
-Study as hard as you possibly can
-Don't smoke or chew red beetle (two common activities for young men, equal to smoking or chewing tobacco in the United States during the 1950s)
-Have fun
The following day Maung Khaing attended his first day back to school (he had dropped out of the school in his village after grade 4). He will finish grade five in April.
.JPG)
(Maung Khaing in the tea shop on his first day of school. He is in his new uniform proudly holding his books)
(the family at school)
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