Staying in, Mandalay (Burma)

It was hot and dusty in Mandalay. I stayed indoors most of the day only going out at night. A NGO friend had warned me about the risky nightlife - drugs and STDs. I was in a residential neighbourhood with no sign on such entertainment.

During the day I had two repeat visitors - 1) a young guest house staff, a 25 year old male, who wanted to talk about things around the world,  and 2) a girl of around 20, the daughter of the guesthouse owner, who was always with her discman.

The girl had many foreign fashion magazines. She had taken a fancy to a pleated skirt and she said she was working on stitching one for herself. When I saw the photo of the dress, I did a Roger Moore raised eyebrow, wondering if the length (rather, the lack of length) would cause a mini scandal in her conservative surroundings. She had already anticipated it and she was going to modify the length to safer proportions.

The male staff’s conversations were more down to earth - the low salaries, tough work conditions and no options to pick up new skills like computers. He was interested in what people learnt in universities outside Burma and what he should do to become an IT worker.

Sometimes, while the male staff was in my room, the girl would show up. The staff would quickly make an excuse and leave. A couple of times, I tried to engage them into a mutual topic but the staff always left. Burma is a lot like India in terms of class system. People somehow know their position, and are deferential to someone higher up. I as an outsider was exempt.

On the TV there was a  young character, a misguided youth. He was following western culture, he had a tattoo featuring Guns N roses. He changes after listening to a lecture by an older person. He takes a knife and cuts off the tattoo. The camera zoomed to his face showing determined wince while he was braving the pain. The story ended with him joining the army.

I enjoyed doing nothing in Mandalay. After a few days, I left to join some friends up the river. A few months later, I got a letter from the staff, in neat handwriting, asking if I could help him find work overseas. I replied asking for his resume. I never heard back from him. I wonder if the girl finished her dress.

Updates:

2005: Came across an Orwell quote. I can’t remember if I had read it before.

“It is dusty and intolerable hot and it said to have five main products that begin with P, namely pagodas, pariahs, pigs, priests, and prostitutes.”

2006: While in Thailand, came across a stash of fashion magazines from the 1970s. One of the model was wearing a pleated skirt. Reminded me of the girl.