Arrival in New Zealand and meeting my uncle Arnett

Uncle Arnett Eastwood
















I arrived in Christchurch New Zealand on the twelfth October about 3.30 NZT. When you fly into Christchurch one usually comes in over the Southern Alps which is very spectacular with mountains full of snow. It was a brilliant sunny day which made it more spectacular. By the time I got through the immigration and baggage control it was well after four. But Arnett was there with his step daughter Joan to meet me. You could see he was pleased to see me. Hello Kevin in a broad Whitefield accent. Though he has been in New Zealand over fifty years his accent is just the same as when he landed. On every public and what Arnett thinks is an important occasion He always wears his blue Return Service Association blazer with it badge and his medals. He has it on today so telling me without words that he is very pleased to see me and that he considers this an important occasion in his life. I give him a hug which he is not used to and he gives me an embarrassed one back. He looks a lot thinner and smaller than when I last saw him. He is under five foot, though he will insist when you push him that he is five foot two and a half. We have a bit of a chatter while Joan gets the car.

We arrive at Hoani Street. The state house was built just after the war and Evelyn his wife and himself moved there soon after they got married. It was Evelyn’s second marriage her first husband had died and she was left with two girls Sylvia and Joan, who Arnett has treated as his own. Arnett was thirty six when he married and Evelyn was forty seven though only admitted to being forty one. The house itself is a typical state house, very functional with no frills. I think in the fifty years he has been there not many things have changed in the furniture and décor either. Arnett still has the same double bed that Evelyn and himself bought when they first moved into the house. There seems to be a big dip in the middle, which always reminds me of the bed the old lady is lying on in Hitchcock’s film Psycho. There is the same lino down throughout the house with sliding carpets, though he has made some concession by carpeting the hall and his bedroom. Most of the furniture is from the fifties with a few relative new pieces, such as the Television and a couple of coffee tables. The cooker and electric fire are old but work very well. And as he says why get a new one if the old one is working. If everyone followed his philosophy I suppose we wouldn’t be in the mess we are in re global warming. Joan says her good bye and we have our supper and sit down for a good chat. Over the next few days I get to know my uncle a lot better and he reveals a lot about himself which is a small part of history. I personally think his life though very mundane now has in fact been very interesting and in my next blog will tell you some of his history.

Bangkok and Sister Roseline.

Sister Roseline

















When I arrive in Bangkok Sister Roseline is waiting for me. Due to a mix-up we do not go back to the rebirth centre but go back to her sisters house on the other side of Bangkok which turns out to be a Long journey. We left the airport about eleven o’clock and didn’t get there until four o’clock in the afternoon. The traffic was horrendous and as it turned out we came the wrong way. We should have gone on the ring road which only takes an hour but we silly billies when right through the middle of Bangkok city. I have a feeling I don’t want to see Bangkok again!!! But sister Roseline is such fun to be with she has a bubbly character which makes her endearing. We don’t do much over the day and a half I’m there only shopping and seeing the cathedral and visiting the hospital where sister has an appointment which by the way is a private hospital run by religious sisters. I ask sister does she get it free being a Religious. No she tells me we don’t even get a discount. For the first time when we get home eventually after a monsoon storm I get the computer going. Now I can start putting down in writing what has been happening during my trip to Myanmar. However I’m two weeks behind and seem to be getting more and more behind for at the time of writing this I am four weeks behind. Hopefully I will catch up in the next few weeks as I am in a quiet parish and have a little more time to put down what I am up to. Left Bangkok after saying goodbye to sister Roseline and thanking her for all she had done for me, at six o’clock and arrived in New Zealand some eighteen hours later. Though we did have a stop in Sydney for three hours.

The Last full day in Myanmar

The next day was not so early start. Mass was at 7.30 followed by a relaxed breakfast. Today I was being taken to the cultural village. I didn’t really want to go but sister Ann had set her heart on taking me there saying that everyone like it. But I knew from first hand that they found it a bit boring. Really all it was different houses and implements that the different states of Myanmar used like the Shans, and Kochins. The state run tourists attractions are a joke really, for the people who run them get so little money that they do not put in the effort and who can blame them. The different houses are actually used by those who look after them as real houses when the ‘Theme Park’ (again I us these words very loosely indeed) is closed. One of the regions shown is in the mountains so they have built fibre glass mountains with a little bridge over a small chasm. It seems that this is the highlight of the locals visit here. As it turned out the the place was quite full I was the only foreigner there. Another thing that is quite amusing is if they have a camera at all it will be a really old one. Sister tells me that most of the time there is no film in it anyway as it is too expensive to buy.

The trip to the cultural park and back was much more interesting because it was out of Yangon into the deprived areas. What people have to live in is awful and there no wonder why the mortality rate over here is so high. Some people have to live cheek to jowl in absolute hovels and when the rain hits them they have to contend with the mud and dirt. It must be a nightmare for those living under those conditions. And what keeps going through ones mind that this is all happening because of the greed of the few. The sisters try to the best of their ability and resources to relieve the poverty of a few, but it is only a few. The world doesn’t seem to care because there is no oil and no celebrities go there. We can do our bit by raising the profile and the plight of these poor people. But it does no good when articles are written that semi-gloss over what is really happening.

At the end of the day all the sisters come out for a meal with me. We go to the thousand coin restaurant which is owned by a catholic and we get a good deal. Not only that Sister Marie the superior makes a deal with the restaurant owner that the convent driver will pick up all the left overs for the pig they are fattening to sell to get them money for Christmas. And on top of that the restaurant owner is persuaded to buy the pig when it is ready. I thought it was quite funny really as the restaurant owner was supplying the food to fatten up the pig she was eventually going to buy and gave us a discount on the meal we had! These nuns certainly now how to get things out of nothing.

Back to the convent and packed up my things then a knock on my door. Father can you post this when you get to Thailand and they kept coming by the end of the evening a had a sackful of mail. I exaggerate but there was a lot. The Burmese are never sure that their mail gets through for not only is it censored but it make never make the censor as the postee might take the stamp and resell it on the black market. Anyway I finally make it to bed and sleep.

Next morning it is another early start and at breakfast sister Marie and Ann say they want to come to England. They have to go to the five yearly general meeting of the order in Rome, which is paid for by the American wing of the order. Therefore while they are in this part of the world they would come to England. I thought that would be a good idea as then they could tell at first hand what they are trying to do and also what is happening to their beloved country. As I leave the convent everyone comes out to wish me a good trip to New Zealand which is my next stop after a couple of days in Bangkok.

Return to Yangon

We arrive at Mandalay airport just after 7.30am and I say goodbye to Srs’ Geraldine, Bernadette and Peter the driver. I suppose that we all wonder when we will see each other again. I know that I will not be over for at least eighteen months soit is a bit sorrowful. Though I have only been in Mandalay for a few days I feel as though I have been there a lt longer.

After going through the checkout I learn that my flight has been changed and rather than getting a direct flight to Yangon we are now going via Bagan. Last time I was here a group of us went to Bagan on a boat which took about eight hours going down the river very slowly. A lovely trip, but one that only has to be done once. The plane took just over half an hour to get to Bagan. Bagan is a holy place for the Buddhist and there are thousands of Beghodhas These are ancient monuments that were built in honour of the Buddha usually by a dead person’s family so that they may be spared a couple of lives as they journey to Nivarna. Flying in to Bagan you see the whole landscape covered with these mainly brick built begoddhas. Some of them are over two thousand years old.

A quick stop in Bagan and then off to Yangon which is only a short trip. Sister Ann and Sister Ann Marie are there to meet me but it is raining and I mean raining. All through this trip I have been lucky with the weather so I cannot complain. After parking my bag in the convent and having a bite to eat we go to the Scott market. I kept calling it the stock market and it is certainly not that. Its the place to go when you wanted prescious stones and gold. I went there to get some oil paintings which were really cheap or so I thought only to find out later that I could have got them cheaper.

The 7th October is the feast of the Holy Rosary so the parish priest of St Theresa’s was throwing a party for Sister Rosary who was the superior in the convent there. So all the sisters piled into car/van to go to the festivities in the evening. It must have looked quite strange all these sisters in the back with all their veils flying around. Yet no one seemed to take any notice. We arrive there and the party begins. Not your usually party I must admit. There was no wine and the only spirit floating around here, was the Holy Spirit. Yet for all that everyone was happy and enough to eat and after that people got up and sang songs. Had a great chat with two seminarians and the parish priests then at eight thirty we all went home.