The road to Zawgyi village

The Sawgyi bridge that is washed away every year and rebuilt and paid for by a Catholic business man

















The local barber and customers















Typical dwelling places in the village

Wednesday 4th Oct Have I only been in Myanmar three days. I seemed to have crammed so many things in that I feel I’ve been here for a week. Today I am going to Zawgyi which is a Catholic Village I think south of Mandalay. What I do know is that I have to go on that road to the airport yet again. Is this the only road out of Mandalay I ask myself. I rise at 5.30am for a cup of coffee and a couple of biscuits. (I had the fore sight to bring my Gold Blend with me) Had a hot shower (but you have to be quick as the hot water runs out after four minutes), prayed my morning office and then celebrated Mass for the sisters at 7.00am. Usually the sisters have to go to the Church around the corner for 5.30am Mass, but because I am staying there, they can have a lay in. After Mass I took communion to the sick and bedridden of the house, then at eight I sat down for breakfast. The breakfast consisted of rice and some funny meat and dhal for the sisters. All I wanted was couple rounds of toast and a banana. I love rice but not for breakfast, and certainly not with meat.

After breakfast 8.30am we were on that road again, though I am coming to terms with their way of driving. You begin to anticipate what they are going to do, so a little order comes into the chaos. (Buddhist way of thinking. You change because you don’t want to be stuck in a routine but the changing itself becomes a routine.) Well I thought the road to the airport was bad! We flew pass the airport and got on this lovely road which was called the computer road. The reason why it’s called the Computer road is because the government in its wisdom built a computer college right in the middle of nowhere and there was only a dirt track to get to it. The students wouldn’t go there because it was too difficult and during the monsoon, impossible. So the government had to build a road to it. The military government now have a policy of building all the universities and colleges out in the countryside. The reason for this is too be able to control any student unrest quietly out of the public eye. By all accounts they are quite ruthless in this policy and many of the activist of a few years ago are still under lock and key in dreadful conditions. The university of Yangon which was one of the best in Asia before the military coup was very close to the centre of the city was closed down and moved to the outskirts of the city. The old university is only used for government functions now.

Eventually we had to turn off this lovely road to go to Zawgyi. Well to cut a long story short the monsoons had made a mess of it and it had become a sandy dust track with deep ruts made by the ox carts which during the monsoon are the only transport in the rural villages. We were not sure if the wooden bridge that we needed to cross would be there because of the swollen river. It was still there but next day it was washed away when a floating tree trunk smashed into it. The truck/car went very gingerly over it with me quietly saying a Hail Mary and trusting in God.

The village was a poor village and typical for Myanmar. The photos make it look idyllic as long as you don’t have to live there. Basically the houses are made of weaved bamboo matting and open to the monsoon rains and the mosquitoes. The village of Zawgyi was started by a French missionary father who became very friendly with one of the local chiefs in the middle and late 19th century . The chief allowed him to start a mission on the river bank and the village of Zawgyi was born. He converted them all to Christianity and to this day nearly everyone is Catholic. There are many such villages like this and the main one being Chanthagon where they Marian shrine is.

Walking round one could see that life here was very tough. People were trying to make a living either by raising cattle, goats, hens and growing rice and vegetables. However the government has altered the flow of the water channels so that the village is at the end of the line for water so the crops of rice and vegetables are very poor. While we were walking around the village we came across the local barber who was very young. I thought about having a hair cut until I saw the clipper, scissor and comb, and thought I better not. Went into one or two of the houses and they were clean and tidy but not much in them. However they nearly all had a TV which ran off a battery. The one thing I did notice was that there were no satellite dishes! The mortality rate among the children and adults is very high, as is the poverty, hence the need for the orphanage. Except for the TV and batteries the way of life and its style would have been practiced for centuries. Being in the village was like being in a time warp where nothing had changed in centuries.

As we walked around the village every one acknowledge us and the sisters knew every family. There was even a lady who had been a sister in the orphanage living there. While she was a sister her job was to look after the goats and as human nature has it she fell in love with the young local goatherder. When they got married they were not allowed to live in the village as it was seen as a bit of a scandal so they had to live outside of the village on top of a hill. Eventually they were accepted back into the fold and the sisters accepted the situation and were talking merrily to her. Sister told me that the poor girl had a very hard life and found it difficult to make ends meet. Many of the orphans eventually find husbands in the local community. When the sisters take on these orphans they do it until the girls or boys can stand on their own. However if they cannot the children are not thrown out onto the streets they keep them on. I met a few of them, one who was 75 years old. But the majority of them find their own niche in life.