Khin Swe Oo - Sagaing Girl's Diary

Diary 1

[ 1 ]

I have crossed the Sagaing Bridge or the Innwa Bridge many times. Sometimes it is a misty morning.... Sometimes it is a bright morning.... Sometimes it is a moonlit night. The great Ayeyarwady River flows beneath the bridge, sometimes calmly, sometimes meandering, sometimes rushing.

Summer, rain, winter, morning, day, night. Regardless of the three seasons, regardless of the time, it will always stand strong, magnificent and beautiful. My grandparents, my aunts, uncles, uncles, uncles, and all my relatives often cross Sagaing and Shwe Kyet Yek Seikkan by boat or on foot on the bridge. There is no choice of time. It may be day, night, midnight, or dawn. Whether it is selling at the market, trading, or for some other reason. My sister also crosses the bridge when she comes with her parents and relatives.

Looking up from Sagaing Bridge, you can see the Tagawyar pier, and then cross the railway tracks. There is a small pagoda on a hill. It is a stupa made of lime, so the color of the lime is pale and the color is white. The locals call this pagoda “Tittar Pagoda”. To this day, the Tittar Pagoda still exists, and the sound of the bells can still be heard. I was born in Tagawyar village, below the pagoda hill, so whenever I get a chance to visit Sagaing, I go up to the pagoda hill and pay my respects. If you look up from the Tittar Pagoda hill, you can clearly see the Sagaing Bridge.

More than three years ago, I used to joke about "Nu Nu Yi (Inwa)".

"Nunu and I call it "Inwa Bridge," while May Oo and I call it "Sagaing Bridge."

"Yes, I was called "Inwa Bridge" when I was little."

"May Oo, I've been calling it 'Sagaing Bridge' since I was little."

We both laughed.

The teacher, who was at Nu Nu Yi's house, woke up.

“Oh, yes, that’s right, Innwa Town on the other side of the bridge, Sagaing Town on the other side.”

"So what do you call me, teacher?"

When I asked him about the size of the book, Maung Thano said,

"They call me whatever they want to call me"

"He answered in a roundabout way."

"Aren't you from Sagaing too?"

I'm still trying to figure out how to talk.

“The teacher grew up in Mandalay.”

"Nun Nyu said without hesitation."

In fact, it is known as the “Big Inwa Bridge.” We writers and poets often talk about how many times we have crossed the Sagaing Bridge during our poetry readings. Around 1975, Sayar Mya Than Tint, poet Maung Thway Thit, and I used to tell stories about the Sagaing Bridge while traveling to the townships of Kachin State in Upper Burma, such as Moe Kaung, Ping Baw, and Sar Maw.

I dare say that I am one of the many writers who have seen the Great Bridge many times. As the great Abhidhamma scholar Dr. Jyot said in the book “Pictures,” written by Saya Dagontaray, “Man wants to show that he is the greatest among men,” when I think about it today, my desire to write about myself gradually diminishes. The longer the time goes by, the less I want to write.

However, the bridge has a lot to tell about “human history.” The Inwa or Sagaing Bridge and the Ayeyarwady River. If they were alive, they would undoubtedly tell about the human history that was built with blood, sweat, and tears.

One thing I remember is that when the Japanese invaded Burma, the Japanese captured the brother of U Saw Myint, the current head of the Mahayathisa, Thakin Thein Tan (called Chit Ti by my father) from a secret organization that was waging a revolution against Japan. Japanese soldiers beat him, brought him to Sagaing Bridge, tied him up with ropes, covered his face with a cloth, made him sit on his knees, cut him with a knife and a whip, and threw him into the river.

He wrote about that tragic event in a novel titled "I'm About to Reach the Shore of Zeyar" in Zeyar Magazine.

Thus, the melancholy eras of history have passed.

My siblings and I lived through World War II as children, and we witnessed firsthand how many lives were worthlessly destroyed like tiny insects.

[2]

When we crossed the Sagaing Bridge by train 15 years ago as a pilgrimage, Saya Mya Than Tint once said, “If life is a long journey, isn’t our journey also a short one? Life is made up of these short journeys. We should be happy in life. We should also have the desire to make others happy. We should value our own life. If clinging to life and valuing it is for the good of all, isn’t it bad?”

I always like the words of Saya Mya Than Tint, “For the good of all.” This is because my father (writer Maha Swe) often said these words. According to my father, we were taught to cultivate this spirit of charity from the time we were young. It is true that we did not fulfill our responsibilities according to our father’s training when we were young. Children who are led by adults are not very intelligent and may even become foolish.

However, my father had just finished writing ``The Warlord'', ``The Rebel'', ``Our Mother'', ``The House of the Pandit,'' ``The Agent'', ``Saw Ra Thet Sying'', and ``The Story of the Living One''.

"I will write about my younger siblings when I am over sixty, from the time they were born and raised to the time they became adults. Everything about our lives will be about young people."

Student leader Ko Aung Kyaw, Ko Hlaing Oo, who fell into the hands of the fascist Japanese from Hinthada, Ko Nyi Lay, Bo Aung Zeya (who fell in Thaton), Ko Aung Baw (Dawei), Balasa Daw Than Sein, Daw Thin Kyi (professor of the Department of Geography), Malay (who competed with the Japanese captain from Letpandan and wrote the novel 'Malay Tham Pan Hla'.) etc. Balasa Daw Than Sein is the daughter of Master Dagon Shwe Myint.

He also knew the plan.

"Write quickly, Uncle. Khin Oo has already started writing short letters since he arrived at college."

"We still need time to get diamonds, but we haven't had children yet."

"That's it, but I'll write a book series, Part (1), Part (2), Part (1), Part (2), and I'm really looking forward to reading it."

"This book should be a reference for everyone who reads it."

“So even the world will see your book and want to translate it.”

At that time, it was not customary to translate Burmese books into foreign languages. Even though my father did not live to be 60, he passed away at the age of 53. Ma Ma Sein (Daw Than Sein) had written a long article in the magazine "Their Sisters" to satisfy her feelings. My two sisters said, "We are so ashamed," and put the book under the drawer. "I am ashamed, Ma Ma, and my friends at school are starting to talk about it. We avoid people who talk about it. Ma Ma Sein wrote to us with a positive attitude, as much as she loved our sister, but we were not able to keep our faces. Once, when I wrote an article in the magazine "Their Sisters" with the title "Aye Auto", she forbade me, saying, "Ma Ma is going to write the whole story. It's okay, don't write anymore."

Before my father passed away

"Children are not ready to preach in public, so they don't go out into the wild. They need to be trained, educated, brave, and well-mannered."

I told my mother. He didn't like the way we avoided each other whenever he invited us to introduce ourselves to guests. My aunt and uncle joked about it.

"Mama Ma Kyi, Ma Kyi, the white dog, the wild dog, only went to college, he's very socially awkward."

The speaker was my father's cousin, U Sein Maung (who had written short stories and plays under the name Maung Nyi Swe), and his father, Nan Seng Win Win Myint. Now, when I give lectures, I often say, "I would be very happy if I had an older brother." Since these are things that inevitably happen to me, I really don't want to write about myself, my sister, or my relatives separately.

There are many stories I want to write about. For example, in 1942, the black soldiers, Australian soldiers, and the big cars crossing the Inwa Bridge and retreating towards Sagaing, the story of Chiang Kai-shek’s Chinese soldiers who were retreating, looting cows, carts, and household goods and shooting them with guns, the story of the deserters, the trains that were packed to the latrine with packages, goods, and people, the story of the father and son who were forcibly taken away from the horse and walked on foot in the scorching sun, the story of the fight between about 70 carters who were carrying British government supplies and our 14-5 young people from Tagaung, the sound of swords, spears, and yokes. Blood and bloodshed and real human battles. The double-barreled rifle of the Home Guard and the body of our dead father.

I only remember Maung Daung's articles, which he called a peace-loving man who misses the people.

The moonlight

The Earth's Song

The color of peace...

I want to write about the story of the little dove that passed through the storm of war, about U Lay Hla (Luth U Hla), Sayar Dagon Thara, my father Maha Swe, Sayar U Tin Aung, Sayar Mya Than Tint, and my contemporary writers Kyi Aye, Ma Ma Su (Khin Hnin Yu), Sayar Pho Naing, as well as young writers Moe Moe (Inya), Ma Sandar, Nu Nu Yee (Inwa), Ju, and May Nyein. There are so many things to write about.

May, 93, Shwe Ruikkhon Magazine

Diary 2

(1)

No one can deny that Sagaing is a beautiful city despite the devastation of the war. The prominent Sagaing Mountains and the wide Ayeyarwady River are the charms of Sagaing. My father was born in Minzan, a small village not far from Sagaing Lake. I was born in the densely populated Lower Tagaung. The peaceful and quiet Minzan village and the crowded and bustling Tagaung village are very different. In Lower Tagaung, the small huts with thatched roofs and thatched roofs are scattered far and wide, and there are no sturdy wooden houses. It is a place where boatmen and birders gather to eat. The rows of shops have a railway track behind them and a cart path in front of them, so the dust is blown away and they look like white monkeys when they travel.

My seven siblings, born to my elder sister (Fa Fa’s biological sister), all have red hair that is covered in dust. The carts and horse-drawn carts are very difficult to drive. Once, my cousin “Aung Htoo” fell in front of the cart and got crushed by the cart, which is why he has a half-faced face today. That brother has now retired as a sergeant major in the Tatmadaw and lives in the Kamaryut Hledan house, driving the cart and eating.

Minzan is a wealthy neighborhood. There are people who cultivate ancestral land, large farms, courtyards, and agricultural crops, and there are also weavers who make woven cloth and turbans. My grandmother. Some of the aunts set up weaving looms, so almost every woman in the house knows how to weave. When I was young, my aunt taught me how to weave a two-sided reed-like woven cloth, and I used to weave about a yard long.

Now, even before I was born, my grandparents and grandchildren lived in poverty in Lower Tagaung, and even though the upper Tagaung was the same, the living conditions were better. U Saw Myint, the editor of “Ma Hay Thi” and my brother Thakin Thein Tan, also known as Chit Ti (as I wrote), were born in Upper Tagaung. My sister Khin Swe Aye was born in Upper Tagaung. My father moved his house to Upper Tagaung because his wife was an officer’s daughter.

My father's cousins ​​and uncles often teased me. Is it fair to say that Ma Khin Oo was born in the same place? I used to think that if they called me "Samson Su" in the lower part of the country, I would have thought so. Isn't the name Samson Su beautiful? I grew up knowing that Samson Su was a place where monks, boatmen, and the lowest class of people lived. The people were so poor that they didn't wear outerwear in all three seasons. They lived naked and barefoot. They were a truly poor class. They were always befriended by leprosy and conjunctivitis.

Whenever I think of my hometown, I always remember a small announcement from the police newspaper where my father was the editor-in-chief.

“Friend... when you are driving around in the city, think of the poor Burmese people living in small huts in the countryside.

[ 2 ]

In fact, my father's ancestors were from the great clans. Since they were from the noble lineage, my uncles and aunts

“Our people are the ones who are blessed with special Buddhas, Khin Khin Oo, the most special Buddha.”

"I can't answer. People are... "

I always say that. Even my father's pen name was taken to preserve the memory of being born into a noble family. Therefore, Maha Swe is a descendant of a great family. However, when Saya Zeya met with our children at the Shumawa magazine, I was surprised to see that Saya Zeya answered, "Can't it be the Great Friend? The Great Friend?" Anyway, my father's father, U Aung Nyein's mother (Maha Swe's grandmother) was the sister of U Chein, the secretary of the boat club. Here, the boat club