Letter from Burma: Holiday (3) by Daw Aung San Suu Kyi

The third temple where we went to worship in Pagan was That-byin-nyu. The highest of the ancient religious monuments, it is also one of the most beautiful, with its harmonious proportions and tiered terraces. Until the 1990s, visitors were allowed to climb up to the terraces and look down on the serenity of Pagan as it spread out in inimitable stillness. It was a perfect spot for “I’ve been there” photographs, and I have several of my young self sitting on one of the terraces with a cousin and an uncle, all of us looking very pleased with ourselves and with life in general. Since climbing up to the terraces has been disallowed in the interests of conservation, the number of visitors who come to That-byin-nyu has dropped dramatically, and the temple now has the wistful air of neglected beauty waiting to be rediscovered. Behind the rough lime wash on the inner walls are murals which might still be saved by skilled art restorers. Maintenance is obviously kept to a minimum, a lamentable state of affairs for a building that is of so much cultural and historical significance.

There is so much that needs saving in Pagan and its environs. To begin with, the monuments themselves: the restoration work carried out in the 1990s was undertaken without the benefit of expert advice and with quick results, rather than excellence, in mind. I am told there are lovers of art and archaeology who weep every time they see Pagan in its present state. However, with care and expertise it should still be possible to recover the authenticity of the lovely old temples that have been spoilt by a hasty drive to turn the plain of pagodas into a tourist magnet. Many small temples remain in what one might say is a fortunate state of disrepair; these might yet be restored to a close semblance of their original condition or preserved in varying stages of ruin as a visual history of the ravages time has wrought on the old city. These are matters for specialists, but before their work can begin we will have to promote an awareness of the need to protect and preserve Pagan not just as an important landmark in the history of our country, but as part of the cultural heritage of the world.

It is not only the ancient monuments which are in need of care and protection. The whole land around Pagan cries out to be cherished and conserved. An hour by car took us to the last remaining patch of ingyin forest in the region, a gallant oasis amidst the harshness of its surroundings. The ingyin (Pentacmesiamensis) is a most unusual tree; when it dies of old age, its wood, instead of rotting away, petrifies into a stone-like substance. Conservation laws forbid logging in the area, but there is a scrawny look to the trees that is less than reassuring, and there is little evidence of strong new growth.

Our expedition to the forest grove included some twenty journalists. I had hoped our holiday in Pagan could be kept quite private, but it had not turned out that way, and making the best of the circumstances I had decided to look upon the journalists as an extended part of our group. It helped that they were all friendly and cooperative. Our plan was to have a quiet picnic lunch in a secluded part of the forest, but when we arrived there we found that a large number of people from a nearby village had gathered to meet us. This village bears the poetic name of Zee-O Thit-hlaNat-hteinInngyin-taw: “Old Plum, Beautiful Wood, Retainer of the Gods, Ingyin Forest.” It is almost a haiku.

There is an unexpected link between Japan and this little village. When I asked the women what the greatest need was for their village, they replied, “water.” They went on to explain that Bridge Asia Japan had dug an artesian well for them a few years ago so they were much better off than they had been in the past, but those who did not live in the vicinity of the well had to walk a fair distance everyday to fetch water. Moreover, they had to pay for the cost of the diesel oil needed to operate the pump, and although the charge was reasonable, it was a burden for most of the villagers, who eke out a spare living from the palmyra palm, commonly known as the “toddy” palm. The palmyra thrives in the hot, dry climate of central Burma and provides fan shaped leaves, which can be used to weave mats and baskets, and an edible fruit. Its most important product, however, is its sweet sap that can be taken as a refreshing drink, fermented to make a strong country spirit (“toddy”), or boiled to produce a delectable brown sugar candy.

As a schoolgirl I learnt of the hardships of palm climbers from a famous poem of the twelfth century that we had to commit to memory. The description of the daily round of those who start out into the early morning mist to begin their dangerous (falls are frequent and can lead to serious injuries) and exhausting work is sharp and vivid and remains valid to the present day, as I discovered from talking to the men of the village. They are treading the same relentless round of work that their forebears trod centuries back. However, there is one significant difference: today, among the palm climbers of Old Plum, Beautiful Wood, Retainer of the Gods, Ingyin Forest Village, there are university graduates. (By Aung San Suu Kyi)

(Mainichi Japan) September 26, 2011