Young and old

La Klay comes up to me after class. He has black shoulder length hair pinned back with a hairband and large dark doe like eyes. ‘Teacher, I want see you. Say thank you. When can I' I suggest he comes that evening. The custom is for students to thank teachers formally during a ceremony in front of others but I suspect he wants to do it privately rather than have to perform before the audience next day. It also involves the learner apologising for not being a good student and for making mistakes. I am relieved teachers don’t have to apologise too ( Student: I am sorry. Teacher: No I am sorry. Student: I am really sorry. Teacher: No, I am really sorry.......where would it end? ) So, just before 6.30 p.m I prepare myself to receive his little speech.

We sit down. ‘ Teacher, I want thank you, ’ he starts then stops. For quite a long time. I don’t think he has actually prepared this. Eventually he formulates the next part. ‘You come long way help us’  I smile benevolently. He probably has no idea how far I travelled to get here. 

‘Teacher, you help us. I sorry fall asleep in lesson’. In the absence of an independent adjudicator, I reassure myself, possibly inaccurately, that it is not because I was dreadfully boring but rather that, in the afternoon, it was very hot and he was part of the breakfast team who got up to cook at 5 a.m. He was totally out for the count, head on desk and dead to the wonders of my teaching. Getting into his stride now, he continues ‘Teacher, even you are old, you teach very well. He smiles and looks deeply and meaningfully into my eyes before continuing. ‘ Principal Khu Myar Reh. Before come here,  he tell us, you are old but you can teach. I see you. I surprise. You old. But teacher, you teach well.’ 

‘ Thank you very much’ I say feebly ‘ it has been my pleasure.’ Nothing like a bit of honesty to puncture one's self importance. Next time, if ever there is one, at a very early stage, I am going to introduce the idea that we use the word ‘revered’ rather than old for anyone getting on a bit. ‘Teacher, you are revered’ ‘Teacher, even you are revered, you teach very well.’ That sounds so much better and so much easier on the fragile ego. And it will stand them in much better stead if they ever encounter another foreigner, comme moi, d’un certain age. Who might not be so welcoming of ‘thank you’ speeches.

The good news is that the word ‘old’ is not used once at the farewell party. Just before it starts, some students appear with a gift of a Karenni costume. Thankfully it fits my elephantine Western self as the standard size here is petite minus minus. ‘Teacher, beautiful’, exclaim the students. That is more like it. My ego is restored. Luckily a fan in the hall prevents me overheating, as the red striped  ‘htamein’ (skirt) and pink top are  made of thick cotton and could lead to a not so beautiful, very sweaty teacher.

Traditional red Karenni dress

As the revered (not old) guest, I sit with the Principal in front of the audience, trying to smile graciously as befits my near royal status. Sixteen male and female students perform a Karenni dance moving their arms in various elegant gestures. I  comment to the Principal that this is a  different style to what I saw at the funeral 'Yes,'  says Khu Myar in a slightly disapproving tone ‘this is modern, not so traditional. We never move arms before but now they change.’

Just one small example of how, despite a strong loyalty to and sense of their culture, Karenni practices are inevitably altering as these young people adapt their lives within the 21st century.

Karenni dance with a modern touch

So what will happen to these young people? Will the recent refugees be able to return home to Myanmar and help develop their communities or will they remain here on the Thai border for years? Will they actively fight for independence by joining the Karenni army to fight the Burmese military or by engaging in political activism?  Will they end up never returning and having to make their lives in this no man’s land? Some students already born in the refugee camp, their families having fled in previous times of violence, do not know their homeland. The families survive with basic  help from the UN, supplemented by monies from help from family members who have made it abroad or into work within the illegal economy of Asia. The network of family members helping each other is wide and strong but it leaves those in the camps dependent on others, often without a sense of purpose or place. 

Hse Meh, my chief cook and young friend, says ‘ Teacher, I am sad you leave. Please come visit me in Myanmar’. She wants to go home. ‘ I want help my people, teacher’. I tell her that we will meet again in her village in Kayah state, but I am not confident in my promise. I fear for her future, for the Karenni people and for Myanmar.

But now, it is time to take my farewell. I thank them for everything they have taught me  about their culture and their situation. And, though I don't say it, for allowing me for a short time to see the world through the eyes of this very remarkable people.  I wish them peace, health and happiness in the years to come.

Principal Khy Myar Reh, my revered self and students

And on the last morning, the cats move back into the bedroom before I have even left the building..

Glad she's gone. Finally we can have our bed back...

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