May'myo and its surounds

The Landing at Candycraig Mansion

Visiting Kandawgyi Gardens















Locals visiting Kandawgyi Free

After lunch at the convent which was served by the girls we went on a tour of the town. Nice little town busy in the centre with lots of bikes and noise. There were quite a few beggars who were very young indeed. One was carrying a little child which turned out to be her sister. On the outskirts of the town the well to do lived, but there was a lot of signs that they were becoming run down as their money got less and less. Sister Rita took us to Candycraig which is an old colonial house that had seen better days. This is the place where the old governor of Mandalay stayed during the hot summer days. The hall and the big wooden staircase were very impressive, as were the large bedrooms at the front of the house. Though the whole house was clean and tidy there was something missing. It suddenly stuck me as I was walking up the stairs what was wrong. There was no paintings of any kind on the walls. In large period houses like Candycraig you always have pictures on the walls. I wondered if the government had sold them off. The whole house needed a lick of paint. The painting on the windows frames were all beginning to peel and there were cracks in the walls. Peter was the manager who was a lovely man and couldn’t help us enough. From him I found out that Candycraig was owned by the government now, then I understood why the place seemed under-funded and in need of repair.

At the moment the military dictatorship is in the process of building a new capital city called Nay’Pyi’Daw. All the money that the generals don’t squander on themselves of filch from the public coffers goes to build this white elephant. It is in the middle of nowhere. Nobody wants to move there even the foreign embassies or their consulates. All government departments and their workers have to go there as well. Yangon is going to be abandon by the military hierarchy so that they do not have to see the complete mess they have made of it. It’s the same with Mandalay they are abandoning that city to the Chinese who are pouring in. A few years ago the Burmese Army repelled an invasion by the Chinese in the north of the country now this ‘government’ is letting them in by stealth. I feel so sorry for the Burmese people as they see their country in a monetary sense being overtaken by a foreign power. And what is worse is that there own people who are selling them short. I am sure if there was oil in this country the western governments would be in there sorting it out. Mind you would you want them in making another mess.

Anyway back to May’myo After Candycraig we went off to Kandawgyi Gardens. Nice little garden but no different than you see all around the world the difference here being foreigners have to pay $3 and another dollar if you want to take photos. After this we went to see the waterfalls, which is a holy place for the Buddhists. Lots of stalls all selling the same things. They were gearing up for the next day when an influx of people were expected as it was the festival of lights. The centre of the town was your usual Myanmar mix. Noisy, smell of petrol and the honking of horns, little children begging and the men drinking tea and talking while the women got on with the work. After haggling to get home sister Geraldine and myself said our goodbyes to sister Rita and settled in a car taxi with three in the back and three in the boot. Finally after an hour and a half arrived back at the convent. Had our evening meal a small chat and off to bed to start again tomorrow.

MayMyo Noviciate Convent

The Army Camp behind the Convent


















The Convent built in the old colonial style

The Young Novices they were leaving the next day to go to all different hill stations so that they could have experience working in the vineyard of Christ. In other words working with the poorest of the poor.

May Myo was a colonial hill station which the British used, to get away from the searing hot summers of Mandalay and Rangoon. It was named after a British general who made the place popular by his presence their in those summer months. The present government have restored the old name that it used to be called Pyin-Oo-Lwin. One could see straight away that the town had seen better days and that in a time gone by it was a very grand place. Some of the old houses were very grand. There were at one time two main schools in May Mou and they were both run by the Catholics One was run by the sisters of St Joseph for girls and the other by the Marist for the boys. Both schools were made of bricks. Both schools were confiscated by the Government in 1963 but the orders were allowed to keep their living quarters and chapels. Now the sisters are being hassled by the government army to even give up their living quarters and chapel because it is in between the school and the army base. However, they have a formidable sister to overcome. Sister Rita will not be brow beaten into giving anything up. An officer who thought she was easy came away from a meeting with her saying, that before he came he was well but by the time he left he had achieved precisely nothing and the only thing he got was a splitting headache.

The Convent is now used as the noviciate house for the order of St Joseph of the Apparition and there are quite a few novices there working their way to final profession. It was a stark reminder to me that God will bring good out of bad. I know people will say that God shouldn’t let it happen in the first place. We have been given free will and a lot of the time we misuse that gift. It is not God that creates havoc but our greed and lust for domination over others. The good that comes out of all the chaos we create are people from all religions and walks of life who want to ease the sufferings of others. The sisters are such people who want to help others who are suffering extreme poverty and oppression because of greed and bad government. When sister Ann was told by her superiors in the West that they had many vocations in Myanmar because it was seen as a way out of the poverty trap. Sister Ann in no uncertain terms put them in their place. It just shows you how we can forget in our comfort zone that God works on a totally different level than we work on. Though we may not be able to help the sisters with our physical presence we can help them with first and foremost with our prayer and secondly with monetary help. Being condescending to the sisters is no help at all.

The Road to Pyin-Oo-Lwin (May'myo)

Buddhist girl novice (8yrs)begging for her food.

Typical scene on a road leading out of the city

5th October, another early Morning Mass at seven, followed by breakfast. Peter who has been driving us everywhere has got another job today. He is officially a tourist guide but when he has no work he helps the sisters when they need a driver for their car as none of the sisters drive. Therefore a taxi is coming to pick us up at eight. He duly arrives and we climb into a proper car of sorts. All taxi drivers have to display a picture of themselves on the dashboard, which is a good idea in principle. The only trouble is that in the majority of cases it bears no resemblance to the person driving the taxi. I always ask, ‘Is that you?’

It had been raining all night and as soon as we got out of the convent ground we soon realised this was going to be a difficult day to travel. Most of the roads were deep in water and everyone was struggling to get through. Because we were going to May Mou the taxi was picking up other passengers. The first we picked up was a well dressed man in a café, then we went on this long hike through many flooded roads to pick up the next one. There is no thought of abandoning the excursion eventually we get to the house of the next pick up and a family of three pile in. There is not enough room so the husband has to sit in the boot of the so called estate car. With three enormous bags of soap powder for the convent and all the bags and cases of the other passengers. I thought this is going to make it even harder to get through the flooded back streets.

We did stop once more but this was for petrol. In Myanmar you are only allowed thirty litres of petrol a month which costs 75p a litre. If you need more then you have to buy it on the black market which costs you three times as much. When you buy it on the black market you cannot buy it at an official garage you have to buy it off one of the street side vendors. These vendors have large barrels of petrol with a tap attached and pour the petrol into a jug, which is then poured into the car. They have had a few accidents with smoking but thank goodness no one was smoking at it was not near a café with an open fire!

Eventually we got on the road to May Mou and to my delight I found that there was another road out of Mandalay. This road I was told by sister Geraldine was built by the British after the war and it was made well and stood the test of time. As May Mou was a hill station we did not have to worry about flooding as it was all up hill. The driver drove as though he had another three round trips to make. The trip itself was quite scenic as it usually is as you go up into the hills. But it was surprising how many soldiers we saw on the way. I mentioned this to sister and she said that the army had many bases around that area. They were even building a new city half way between Mandalay and May Mou for the army generals and officials. This would have the best of everything and this is why all the roads around Mandalay are atrocious because all the money was being diverted to this project.

During the journey Sr Geraldine was talking to the young mother who was travelling with us and it transpired that she was a Catholic who was going to see her blind great Grandmother who was not well. As soon as she learnt that I was a Catholic priest she asked sister would I mind stopping at her grandmothers place and give her a blessing and say some prayers with her. I said I would only be too delighted to. After a two hour drive we got to May Mou which was a quaint place everywhere you could see signs of the old colonial days and none more so than the first house we stopped at. Here the young family got out and she explained to the driver what we were going to do. He gave us ten minutes.

I went into the house and was introduced to the adopted daughter of the grandmother and she led me into the old lady’s room. Her name was Mary Scanlon. I told her who I was and what I was doing here. She said she was so blessed to hear a priest in her presence and was very thankful that God had sent me to her. We said some prayers together and I blessed her and then I had to leave. It was a fleeting visit but a lovely experience of a deep faith that had sustained someone throughout their life.

St Emily's Villa Orphanage Zawgyi

The toilets in Zawgi Orphanage

The Children preparing to sing and dance for me

they don't look very enthusiastic

The orphanage was in its own compound which consisted of three brick buildings, a Church, the resident priest house and a half finished Church. I asked Sr Geraldine why the half finished Church? It turns out that a few years ago there had been an earthquake and the old Church was badly damaged with a crack from floor to ceiling that you could put your hand in. Being unsafe the villagers decided to build another one, but halfway through the project they ran out of money and so it stands with no roof on. The parish priest who is from that village was on a year sabbatical in the Philippines doing a course on catechesis. His home had been taken over by some of the villagers who had been flooded in the last monsoon storm. His brother was also his house keeper and kept an eye on things. There were hens, cows and goats in the garden and numerous children and men smoking and talking while the women cooked. There was a wall between the Church and the orphanage so that the children and sisters could have their privacy.

The Children and the sisters came out to meet us and we were led in to have a drink of lemon. I was a bit wary of drinking the lemon water but I was assured that it had been purified, and I am still here. I was introduced to the children who though looked very well their clothes seemed to be a bit dirty. When I put this to sister she said living in a village like that where it is so sandy when the sun shines and so muddy when it rains it is near impossible to keep the children clothes clean. The children were very shy at first. It is not very often that they see a white person, but after a while they relaxed and took me around their home and started playing and became very boisterous and had to be told to calm down. I was shown their dormitory, play area, dinning room, kitchen and study area for the older girls. Their wash place is a well with bowls to fish the water out. Sister told me that there was a Dutch lady who used to come every year and bring money and help build what was needed. She brought them a generator so that they could have electric and helped them build the toilets and well and paid for them. However she became to old to carry on her good works. That is another area where we might help as a parish.

We had a meal there which was nicely presented and afterwards the children came and sang and danced for us though it was very hesitantly. Then was taken to see the goats which helped to pay for their food and other things. The sisters grew things in the garden to eat and did the best they could, but the bulk of the money they need is from charitable donations and the order. Then we had a walk around the village.

During the afternoon the clouds started to turn black and we thought it would be expedient to get on our way because if it started raining we might not get out for weeks. Well we hotfooted out of there and just as we hit the computer road, (Thank God) the heavens opened and it rained and rained. By the time we got back to Mandalay it had stopped but it was obvious that Mandalay had got a lot more as the streets were flooded. Some of the roads were like rivers and others because of the unevenness of them were like pools. One minute you were on dry road and the next the car was deep in a pond of water. Finally got back to the peace and quiet of the convent. Had dinner with the sisters a good chat then off to bed as I had to be up early in the morning as we were going to Pyin-Oo-lwin or May mou as it was formerly known.

Email From Sister Geraldine

Sister Geraldine in the middle with Sr Lydia on the left Sr Ann Marie on right.

(I received this e-mail when I got to New Zealand) Dear Father, I guess you are already missing home. I'm sure you felt tired when you really stopped travelling in Myanmar with all the puddles and bumpy roads. The next day you left the rain came down and Oh ! what havoc it has caused. Besides water was let out of the Dams. The Upper Myanmar Rivers began to swell and overflow its banks causing floods in the villages along the river side. Zawgyi is inundated. Some people have evacuated to Chanthagone. The Mission is caring for them and feeding them. The water is still up to the chest not mine may be a tall person. (She only Four Foot something) Some houses are under water only the roofs or a bit can be seen. A few Sisters, 8 postulants and a priest went after a few days to share some rice to them. The waters have not abated much . Other places where our Sisters are located too are inundated. People are in danger and difficulty, homeless and in poverty. You see why I call you son of the Father...He loves you, and let you go safely wherever you wanted to and as soon as you finished ... the rain and winds and the floods came. All the Sisters here say you are so lucky...you made it. Its not feasible to go even to Chan-tha-gon. we have bought another 22 blankets and 22 mosquito nets for the boys and when the weather is fine we'll go or ask Br Augustine to come. So far he hasn't asked for money. Sister Geraldine Mandalay

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.