Burma is changing

I increasingly find it difficult to write here. Oftentimes I cannot tell every interesting story I encounter, as I would like to, because they involve real people who have real stakes in the world. I'd like to tell you about the guy I know who has gone to Yangon in hopes of applying for a passport so that he can study, but that will have to suffice. I'd like to tell you about the girls I know, who are trying to decide when the right time to return their villages is and how best to use their medical skills. I want to tell you the stories that these one-liners encompass, but all I can give you are on the one-liners... which is nothing. But they do show something: people are thinking about going home. People are gaining rights.

And then there's the generalities. It used to be so much easier to talk about the facts of life in Burma, but now... no fact remains steadfast. Everything is changing so rapidly. Two words describe the situation better than anything else I know: hope and fear. And I suppose I can only write on the juxtapose position of these two ideas in the day to day reality so many times, before you know what I'm wanting to say even before I put it on paper. We wait, and we pray.

Please do not misunderstand me. Life in Burma in the ethnic areas is yet to be "good." BUT life in Burma is changing. There's a real (albeit still small) NLD presence in parliament, who will create a very public opposition to the old military rule. Outsiders are being very hesitantly invited in to do NGO work. The ceasefires are not instantaneously disintegrating, though they're not necessarily being followed quite ideally either. And people are beginning to talk about what they would do if... if they have freedom, if a real democracy rises out of these murky waters, if they can go home.

My own hopes and dreams are changing... because Burma is changing. I have this new dream of putting my Shan language skills to use in its own homeland.

Sometimes a few of the more skeptical people around me remind to keep a reign on my optimism. I don't know if I'm honestly optimistic or merely hopeful. I hope. I don't know if I believe yet, but I hope. And that's what keeps the possibility of a better reality alive. It's the only thing worth writing about that I have said for the last five months, and I don't intend to stop: I hope.

"Are you afraid to return to your village?"

I've learned a lot in the last week. I had no clue that I could begin learning a language, particularly a non-Germanic or tonal language so quickly (thankfully this one is closely related to Thai, which I had studied in the past). Yet I have found myself in those wonderful moments in which 25 or so "teachers" sat around me pointing to objects, telling me their names, correcting my tones, and repeating questions multiple times until I learned how to answer them correctly. I felt like a real linguist, trying to quickly scribble things down in IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet) until eventually the Shan alphabet began to unfold itself into consonants, vowels, and tones to me that actually made sense and which I could read. Don't get me wrong, I can only utter the most basic phrases, but this last week caused me to learn more and quicker than I ever imagined. In this regard, I give all the credit to my teachers, the young female community health worker and medic students at the clinic, who took me under their wing. These girls, valuing education highly, know how to study, and they know how to guide studying. They will go hours with me, without pause, studying, reviewing, laughing, and studying more. We've now entered the stage, where they will allow me to play games with them as part of my learning, but they never ease up on their intensity regarding my own learning of the Shan language. I cannot even begin to express my gratitude enough for these girls (most of them between the ages of 16 and 21). They look out for me, and because of them, I am learning to express myself in their language.

One particular lesson stands out to me however. I had previously learned the word "afraid," and they just taught me the words "return" and "village." I took a risk and attempted to ask them if they were afraid to return to their villages. I must have succeeded, because, without any hesitation, all four girls sitting around me nodded their heads. Then one girl (my closest friend of these girls) went a bit further and told me in Shan (and lots of hand motions) that she's not afraid if the Burmese military never knows she was here, but if they find out, they will shoot her. I asked them then if the military had ever attacked their villages, she drew a map and pointed to one dot which she told me was her village. She drew a line and wrote "3 miles" over it and connected it to another dot, which was another village. She then said that her village had not been attacked, but this other one had.

Every one of these girls intends to take their medical training back to their villages. I'm selfish and wish they were a little less brave so I would fear for my friends a little less.