Bygone Bagan (Part II)

Submitted July 20, 2009

Upon arriving at our hotel yesterday we were surrounded by a swarm of vendors that began to follow our tour bus everywhere. Over the last two days I have longed for a sense of peace, but even as we toured the temples and pagodas of Bagan there were vendors. The passage in the gospels of Jesus overturning the tables in the temple came to mind. These are not my holy places, I thought, because I am not Buddhist. But they do belong to these people and I was slightly angry that they were being desecrated by selling goods inside the temple. Those were my honest thoughts. However, I also realized more and more that Bagan is supported by the economic activity of tourists. I decided I could not be angry at the people trying to earn a buck or two to support their livelihoods. My spending money meant their daily survival, as I placed it into to their hands.

We also visited a laquerware shop today. It is actually quite a tedious, timely, and detailed process to produce one item. What I found to be most incredible about it were the men and women I saw, sitting in typical Asian style on the floor with their legs crossed, working 8 hours per day like that. They worked in a dimly lit room that was not dark but certainly gave no extra light beyond the day light, and there were no fans for the workers.

Weaving bamboo, dying, designing, and perfecting each piece they earned around 700 to 1000 kyats, about 70 cents to 1 dollar, per day. Yes, per day. I was hesitant to ask the other workers if they also got paid the same for their work, or if something like the art design would pay more. But no matter, it doesn't seem that it would be much more.

A small bracelet, then, is sold for seven or eight dollars. I had to wonder where all the profit goes. What I desired was to put the money directly into the hands of the people who were making the product. But it was not their hands that were stretched forth. They wove tiny strips of bamboo, used their bare hands to soak the lacquered pieces in turpentine, scratched on tiny designs, and as I bought my pieces of lacquerware, their hands could not reach for mine. I felt the day slip by in Bagan.

Bygone Bagan (Part I): Life in Bagan, an Ancient Capital City of Burma

Submitted July 19, 2009

The ancient, or not so ancient, practice of the Kings moving the capital city is calling for my attention. It seems that Bagan, the city we have just arrived in, was only one of the ancient capitals of Burma. Tomorrow we will travel to Mandalay, which was also once the capital of Burma. Most recently the capital was located in Yangon (Rangoon), and has now been relocated to somewhere outside the city.

I am aware that there are times of intrusion or invasion of foreign armies. It seems that at one time the ancient capital of Thailand, Ayuttayah, was moved due to the threat of foreign invasion in order to protect the kingdom. For the most part, though, it is a practice with which I am highly unfamiliar. It would seem beneficial to gain an understanding of this practice in order to bring some light to the current climate in Burma.

This morning we also worshiped at the one small Christian church in Bagan built in 1996. We were invited to receive communion with them, we welcomed the dog into the building, and also worshiped together as the children gathered around the window in the leaned inside the open windows to watch us. All the while, several vendors waited patiently outside to sell us their goods. In many ways it was beautiful, though it was in an unfamiliar language. The congregation sang familiar hymns in Burmese and I still heard at least one in our group singing along as I also hummed the tunes. The pastor spoke the words of institution and prayed over the bread and the cup in Burmese before we shared them. The beauty was feeling a certain sense of solidarity with this small group of Christians. Though we live thousands of miles apart and embrace life differently, we are of one body in the Lord Jesus Christ.

Yangon: I Can’t Stand Here

Submitted July 18, 2009

No, literally, I can't stand here, which simply put is a reference to the city sidewalks. And, just to be clear, this is no way a reference to Burma for I have thoroughly enjoyed the time here. First, there's just no way to walk together on the sidewalk because of the uneven, broken up path it spreads forth. The sidewalks are also packed with vendors, dogs, people, and sometimes bicycles, making it quite difficult to navigate one's way. Second, as we were coming home in the rain the other night, Rick actually almost fell into a hole in the sidewalk, and actually, not just any hole. Peering into the depth of this hole one could identify that which seems to be some kind of sewer. Well, thankfully, he managed to scathe by with just a scrape on his ankle.

I find it amazing that I can take the most basic things for granted, and not even think about it. Of course, I would be aware if there were big potholes in the street, but would generally figure that someone else would take care of that problem. But I don't even have to think about how to take care of my garbage, unless I forget to set it out. Nor would I ever dream of slipping into the sewage system running underneath a gaping hole in the sidewalk. Potholes being filled in throughout the streets, level and safe sidewalks, well-lit streets, are these all a luxury for us? Well, at least for many of us in the States. A luxury which I am now extremely thankful for!