Rudyard Kipling's words

Personally I love the Burman with the blind favouritism born of first impression. When I die I will be a burman, with twenty yards of real King's silk, that has been made in Mandalay, about my body, and a succession of sigarettes between my lips. I will have wave the cigarette to emphasise my conversation, which shall be full of jest and repartee, and I will always walk about with a pretty almond-coloured girl who shall laugh and jest too, as a young maiden ought. She shall not pull a sari over her head when a man looks at her and glare suggestively from behind it, nor shall she tramp behind me when I walk: for these are the customs of India. She shall look all the world between the eyes, in honesty and good fellowship, and I will teach her not to defile her pretty mouth with chopped tobacco in a cabbage leaf, but to inhale good cigarettes of Egypt's best brand.

-Rudyard Kipling

The River of Lost Footsteps by Thant Myint-U

The River of Lost Footsteps: 

A Personal History of Burma

By Thant Myint-U

Photo: Faber & Faber

Book description by the publisher:

For nearly two decades Western governments and a growing activist community have been frustrated in their attempts to bring about a freer and more democratic Burma - through sanctions and tourist boycottes - only to see an apparent slide toward even harsher dictatorship. But what do we really know about Burma and its history? And what can Burma's past tell us about the present and even its future?

In The River of Lost Footsteps, Thant Myint-U relates the story of modern Burma, in part through a telling of his own family's history, in an interwoven narrative that is by turns lyrical, dramatic and appalling. His maternal grandfather, U Thant, rose from being the schoolmaster of a small  town in the Irrawaddy Delta to become the UN Secretary General in the 1960s. And on his father's side, the author is descended from a long line of courtiers who served at Burma's Court of Ava for nearly two centuries. Through their stories and others, he portrays Burma's rise and decline in the modern world, from the time of Portugese pirates and renegade Mughal princes through the decades of British colonialism, the devastation of World War II and a sixty-year civil war that continues today and is the longest-running war anywhere in the world.

The River of Lost Footsteps is a work both personal and global, a distinctive contribution that makes Burma accessible and enthralling.

This book was first published in 2008.

Source: Faber & Faber

Little Daughter by Zoya Phan

Little Daughter:

A Memoir of Survival in Burma and the West

By Zoya Phan

Photo: Penguin Group Canada

Book description by the publisher:

Zoya Phan was born in the remote jungles of Burma to the Karen tribe, which for decades has been resisting Burma’s brutal military junta. At age 13, her peaceful childhood was shattered when the Burmese army attacked. So began two terrible years of running, as Zoya was forced to join thousands of refugees hiding in the jungle. Her family scattered, her brothers went deeper into the war, and Zoya, close to death, found shelter at a Thai refugee camp, where she stayed until 2005 when she fled to the U.K. and claimed asylum. There, in a twist of fate, she became the public face of the Burmese people’s fight for freedom. This is her inspirational story.

This book was first published in 2009.
Source: Penguin Group Canada

From the Land of Green Ghosts by Pascal Khoo Thwe

From the Land of Green Ghosts: 

A Burmese Oddyssey 

By Pascal Khoo Thwe

Photo: Harpercollins

This beautifully written biography gives a rare insight into one man's fight against an oppressive regime and his dream of going to Cambridge University to study english literature.

You follow his life from his childhood in the Padaung tribe in Burma/Myanmar's Shan State, to student life in Mandalay until he escapes into the jungle becoming a guerilla fighter. Finally his dream comes through and he's able to go to England to study English literature at Cambridge University.

Book description by the publisher:
In 1988, Dr. John Casey, a professor visiting Burma, meets a waiter in Mandalay with a passion for the works of James Joyce, and the encounter changes both their lives.

Pascal, a member of the Kayan Padaung tribe, was the first member of his community to study English at a university. Within months of his meeting with Dr. Casey, Pascal's world lay in ruins. Burma's military dictatorship forces him to sacrifice his studies, and the regime's brutal armed forces murder his lover. Fleeing to the jungle, he becomes a guerrilla fighter in the life-or-death struggle against the government. In desperation, he writes a letter to the Englishman he met in Mandalay.

Miraculously reaching its destination, the letter leads to Pascal's rescue and his enrollment in Cambridge University, where he is the first Burmese tribesman ever to attend.

From the Land of Green Ghosts unforgettably evokes the realities of life in modern-day Burma and one man's long journey to freedom despite almost unimaginable odds.

This book was first published in 2002.

Source: Harpercollins

Romance by George Orwell

When I was young and had no sense
In far-off Mandalay
I lost my heart to a Burmese girl
As lovely as the day.

Her skin was gold, her hair was jet,
Her teeth were ivory;
I said ‘For twenty silver pieces,
Maiden, sleep with me.

She looked at me, so pure, so sad,
The loveliest thing alive,
And in her lisping, virgin voice,
Stood out for twenty-five.

Ngwe Saung Beach

Ngwe Saung beach is roughly a 5 hours drive from Yangon. It's less developed than the more known Ngapali beach, and fewer tourists find their way here than its more known counterpart. The beauty of Ngwe Saung can't be argued about. The beach is more or less deserted and not many tourists find their way here yet. The locals are always keen to interact with foreigners, as everywhere in Myanmar.

Local fishermen hauling in the days catch. This took around an hour. Slowly and steady they pulled in the net full of small fish.

Nat celebration

All photos November 2013: © innwa.blogspot.com

Mandalay by Rudyard Kipling

Mandalay

        by Rudyard Kipling

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
        Come you back to Mandalay,
        Where the old Flotilla lay:
        Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
        On the road to Mandalay,
        Where the flyin'-fishes play,
        An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat — jes' the same as Thebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
        Bloomin' idol made o' mud —
        Wot they call the Great Gawd Budd —
        Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
        On the road to Mandalay,
        Where the flyin'-fishes play,
        An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!"
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
        Elephints a-pilin' teak
        In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
        Where the silense 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
        On the road to Mandalay,
        Where the flyin'-fishes play,
        An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

But that's all shove be'ind me — long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'buses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."
        No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
        But them spicy garlic smells,
        An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
        On the road to Mandalay,
        Where the flyin'-fishes play,
        An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted English drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
        Beefy face an' grubby 'and —
        Law! wot do they understand?
        I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
        On the road to Mandalay,
        Where the flyin'-fishes play,
        An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be —
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
        On the road to Mandalay,
        Where the old Flotilla lay,
        With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
        O the road to Mandalay,
        Where the flyin'-fishes play,
        An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!