Online
Essay
FORGOTTEN
HEROINE
(By
Cham Toik)
When
I think of her, I first remember a soft and sweet voice trying to wake me
up. Her daily routine began at 7 a.m. in the morning, the same time
as BBS (Burma Broadcasting Service) started their morning radio program.
Being the only son of a successful businessman in the community, I was a
spoilt and lazy boy in primary school in
Mon
State
of southern
Burma
. On those mornings, I normally closed my eyes and turned my face
down on the pillow to avoid the sunlight almost for an hour, until 8
o’clock. From my comfortable bed in the newly built wooden house,
I constantly heard her voice, “Oh my baby, let’s wake up. It’s
time to get up,” like a Kaowao songbird singing in the early spring of
our rainforest. She patiently tiptoed back to my bedroom and
encouraged me with her gentle voice to get up almost every day.
Despite being a busy housewife and taking care of all external and
internal family matters, she was my perpetual alarm clock.
She
attuned herself to my small sorrows too. I remember, I was named “Mr.
Radio” by our neighbor, Nai Ein, because when my father traveled for
trading and could not come home on the lonely monsoon nights, I constantly
cried like Thachin Gyi (a long classical Burmese song); then, she always
comforted me.
Everybody
in our community acknowledged that she was a hard- working woman.
With the energy of an automaton, she woke up early in the morning, cleaned
our house and store, put every thing in order and cooked breakfast and
lunch for all of us. While waiting for customers, she never let the
time pass idly, but did something else; for instance, cutting betel nuts
or organizing other things for our family and the grocery store. And when
she was not inside the house, we always saw her working in the garden,
watering the plants or feeding the pets.
In
high school, when I returned home to
Mon
State
from
Mandalay
in central
Burma
during the summer holidays, I began to investigate the perceptions of my
mother, for I occasionally heard people say, “You are your mother”.
Then I asked my relatives about her. Every body told me that they
rarely saw her get angry. I repeatedly heard that she was
open-minded and spoke frankly, although softly. All the neighbours
saw her as a hard-working, gentle lady with a positive attitude. She
never had arguments with others, but presented herself with a smile.
Even now, I fully agree with them because I actually have never, in
my whole life, heard her shout or yell, or use bad words to me or anyone
else. The only way one can realize that she is angry is that her usually
placid face turns red.
Being
raised as a typical Mon national in Ye, southern
Burma
, the first thing I learned from her was discipline and respect. All these
years, I have remembered what she told us each night about our ancestors
and Lord Buddha. At our bedtime, she imparted to us the manner in
which we should behave in society and adjust to any environment, before we
even started formal education at the primary school. She was our
private tutor, who taught us the value of good citizenship and a tradition
to respect parents, teachers and elders.
I
still remember the night when some robbers intruded into our house.
A gang of armed men banged their guns and slammed the door, announcing
their entry like unexpected night shoppers in our unguarded store.
Like a rat that heedlessly runs from a cat at random, our father jumped
out of the house, leaving me and my younger sister behind. But our
mother, the captain of a hundred armies, firmly remained strong for us and
talked to the robbers, asking them not to endanger our lives. The
gang only took the money from our business and left us safe on that cold
winter night.
When
our father left us; my sisters and I were raised by a strong, committed
single woman – our mother. Incredibly, she never blamed others,
but always supported us with a good income, keeping our family abreast of
others. Apart from managing all the business, she normally changed
our clothes, combed our hair and gave us a shower almost every day.
Our neighbors said she was always ready to help others in need and eager
to keep our surroundings clean. She was Visakha, the lady in the
legend who always showed generosity and never hesitated to donate (give
Dhana) to the poor, the temples and other social agencies, as she enjoyed
tirelessly volunteering in the village’s various community development
programs.
In
my travels away from her, I have encountered many difficulties and
struggles. While a dissident student leader, a guerrilla (freedom
fighter) of the New Mon State Party in the jungle, an activist and a
community leader, I easily learned how to face terrible dangers bravely,
stay calm and solve the problem without emotion. I often met coarse
and rude people -people who tried to destroy my goals, who threatened my
security and who abused my rights. Yet I could adjust to the
circumstances, control myself, and react appropriately. Some people
say this is a priceless characteristic and spirit, which I have inherited
from her.
While
I studied at
Rangoon
University
, I was black-listed for political activities, after publishing a
newsletter that expressed our opinions. The Military Intelligence
Service (MIS) men were searching for me everywhere on the campus and in
the city. They arrested my friends and inhumanly tortured them.
Even when I sometimes met them face-to-face, I invariably escaped
from these brutal spies by staying calm and pretending to be a different
person. People say that I inherited from my mother an ability to
calm myself and to stay cool at the critical moment. My mother never
was frustrated nor ran away, but in a chaotic situation faced reality
bravely… as a heroine.
Now
we are thousands of miles apart; but the good traditions I reluctantly
learned in my childhood have become a protocol for me to be a responsible
human being. I have gradually improved and enjoyed my life as the
person I am, but I also realize that my present position could not have
been achieved without the ideals I learned from my mother. Like
other mothers in this world, her important role is not well- recognized,
but is instead frequently forgotten. Just as it is true that
without a mother, a general cannot be born, nor can a leader exist, I
would not be myself without her. She stands as a symbol of courage,
passion and commitment, and deserves to be honored on this day and all
others.
Dedicated
to all women on this International Women’s Day, March 8, 2005.
KAOWAO NEWS GROUP
Email:
kaowao@hotmail.com,
kaowao_news@yahoo.ca
Tel: + 66 7 169-0971, + 66 1 561-0860
(Thailand)
Tel: + 1- 403 - 248 2027 (Canada)
http://www.kaowao.org
http://www.burmalibrary.org/show.php?cat=1215&lo=d&sl=0
Online Burma Library --
http://www.burmalibrary.org
ABOUT US
Kaowao Newsgroup is committed to social justice,
peace, and democracy in Burma. We hope to be
able to provide more of an in-depth analysis
that will help to promote lasting peace and
change within Burma.
Editors, reporters, writers, and overseas
volunteers are dedicated members of the Mon
activist community based in Thailand.
Our motto is working together for lasting peace
and change.
