Maung Tun Thu - Wingless Bird Enjoys the Wind

Motherless son

When I met him, he was 19 years old, but he was emaciated due to a heart attack and malnutrition. His skin was pale and flabby. His left hand was paralyzed from a stroke and his left leg was paralyzed. Not only was his face covered in acne, but he also had a large scar from a surgery on his chest.

He is believed to have had a rough life, which is why he is so unattractive. He is also discouraged by the idea that he is different from others. One of his commendable hobbies is reading and writing, which he learned from his childhood.

My father is U Lu Tin and my mother is Daw Khin Nyunt. I don't think either of my father or mother are true Burmese.

I think I have Karen blood.

My father was married before my mother and had a son. It is said that my father divorced his first wife and took his son and left home. He did not give birth to the son he brought. They say that he left him with her and gave him to a man named Ko Lu Kaley from We Daung village.

My father doesn't drink alcohol. He talks very little and sits with a smile on his face. He doesn't strain his hands at work. He has a relaxed attitude. He doesn't look like a boring person.

He was dark-skinned, short, and strong. His face was hard and hard to smile. Many people said that my father was too cruel. He was too kind. It seems that what many people said was true. My father was too harsh on me, a son.

1

You may have heard the saying, “A motherless child is like a fish in the sea.” I wonder if that saying was deliberately said to me. I am a motherless child. As a motherless child, I have a small face in the world.

Just as a fish in a shallow lake is constantly moving around in the mud, so too, in this difficult and narrow world of humanity, my life is completely unstable. If I were to think about it, I think my life will be stable only after I die.

2

"My name is Kyaw Htun." I don't know if it's the name my mother gave me or the name my aunt gave me. It's definitely not the name my father gave me.

Myitkyu Village, Thitseo Township, is my hometown. Myitkyu Village has about 150 households and almost the entire village makes a living from fishing. I think there are only three or four fishermen.

Near Myitkyu village is the Hlaing River. On the other side of the Hlaing River, the villages of Letpangon, Nyaunggon, and Zamyonggon are mixed Karen and Burmese villages. The villages around our village, such as Pagodagon, Letpangon, Wedaung, and Nyaunggon, are also mixed Karen and Burmese villages. As far as I know, in our area, Karen and Burmese cannot be separated. They all live together, so they are all related by blood.

I don't remember my mother very well. She was very pale and had a rough appearance. I would guess that she was very fond of me. She used to take me with her wherever she went.

I love my mother very much. But my dear mother didn't stay with me for long. She left me before I knew who I was.

I still remember that time.

I was about five years old at that time.

I can't forget that day.

My mother took me to the Pho Khaung River dock to bathe. My father, who came after me, did not bathe right away, but sat on the bank of the river and watched us bathing. Sometimes he would walk over to my mother and talk to her.

Dak-dak-dak.

Shield-shield.

Coconut....

The sound of gunfire continued. I didn't know where it was coming from, whether it was from inside the village or outside.

Wee-pee-wee.

Ded-ded.

The sound of airplanes flying overhead, the sound of airplanes and the sound of machine guns firing in unison.

My mother, in a panic, took me from her arms and carried me to my father. Before I could reach my father's arms, my mother suddenly flinched and fell backwards. My mother fell from the riverbank with a thud. When I looked, my mother was lying face down on the bank of the river. I will never forget that day. That was the day my beloved mother left me for good.

3

Since my mother passed away, I have become a “motherless child.” Since then, my life has been unstable.

When my mother was not there, my father sent me to my sister Daw Nge Pu in the same village, saying that he had no one to take care of me. Since my husband, U Nyha Gyi, was not a good man, my sister had to work with her eldest daughter.

I have lived with U Nyha Gyi and Daw Nge Pu since I was about five years old. U Nyha Gyi was kind and the aunt seemed to love me. However, their eldest daughter, Ma Daung Shwe, could not look at me in the face. She was not very kind. My father also did not appear.

Before I was five years old, I heard that my father had taken another wife. I had only heard rumors and reports about my father. I could not see my father's face. Sometimes I would come and see him. He did not appear. When my father did not come, I had to rely on others. I became attached to my aunt, U Nyah, as if he were my father. U Nyah also showed me favor and it was a happy life.

But not for long. When I was seven years old, U Nyah Gyi passed away. After U Nyah Gyi was gone, my aunt had nothing to rely on. Her eldest daughter, Ma Daung Shwe, married a Karen man named Saw Maung Aye and is now in Yogyi village. I heard that she is making a living from fishing.

Since Adaw had no one to rely on except Ma Daung Shwe, he moved to Yogyi Village where his daughter and son-in-law were. I, who had no one to rely on except my aunt, had to come with Ma Daung Shwe.

4

"Send him back to his father, mother. He's just looking for trouble in his own womb. We can't accept that. We'll take the boy back to our village."

Ma Daung Shwe was talking loudly in her own language. Aunty was staring into the distance. Her face had a look of indecision about something. As for me, I was huddled in the kitchen as usual.

“If possible, I would like to leave her, Daung Shwe, but I won’t keep her for long. I will also talk to her father. I will tell her to return her to her father as she said. If her father calls me, I will call her back immediately. If her father is not happy, I will call her back too.”

The aunt's voice was a little hoarse. It was not clear. It was trembling and dry. I peeked through the window. My sister Ma Daung Shwe was sitting cross-legged. The baby was sleeping between her legs.

"We're just going to have to ask for help for now, but I'm sure Mom won't let us go. I'll keep calling you."

"We're not too loose either, so I don't want to leave it."

At that moment, Saw Maung Aye returned. Saw Maung Aye was an honest, kind-hearted man who spoke very little. When he arrived, he had overheard Ma Daung Shwe's words and seemed to have guessed what they were saying. He sat down in the corner and asked, "What is going on?"

“It’s about Kyaw Tun,” the aunt replied.

Saw Maung Aye took three or four puffs on his cigarette and coughed loudly. He also glanced sideways at Ma Daung Shwe.

“Dawn Shwe wants to be a fisher if he doesn’t want to be caught. If you want to keep that boy, leave him alone. When you can call him back, call him back. It doesn’t matter if you can’t call him back because it’s inconvenient. If you teach him to be a fisherman, he can find a living.”

Thus, my problem was solved. A day or two later, my aunt told me to be quiet and returned to Myitkyu village. I was heartbroken. Since my aunt was gone, I had no peace. In the morning, I would wake up to the sound of the bells ringing from the monastery. If I didn't wake up, I would suffer from Ma Daung Shwe's scolding, anger, beatings, and beatings.

When I wake up, I have to boil the kettle. I have to boil water. And I have to take care of Ma Daung Shwe's little son before his mother wakes up. Ma Daung Shwe is a very sleepy person. She wakes up when the sun is high in the morning. She is also very lazy. She is lazy, but she often asks me not to stay with her.

When he woke up, he carried the basket of kansun yaw that he had picked the night before and went to Myitkyu village to sell it. Yogyi village and Myitkyu village were about three miles apart, so it was tiring to carry the basket of kansun yaw. The road was not smooth. He had to cross streams and ditches.

Despite all this fatigue, when the river was flowing, I was happy and cheerful. Being out of sight of Ma Daung Shwe, who was always afraid, made me feel light and free. I jumped and played all the way. I picked up mud and stones from the road, and threw things I wanted to throw at the roadside. Sometimes I put down a basket of kansun leaves and caught frogs and fish.

When I reached the river, I would go to my aunt's house and rest for a while. My aunt was not like her daughter, Ma Daung Shwe. When I arrived, she would serve me some palm leaves, rice and snacks. Sometimes, she would also serve me some good food and rice.

One day, the rain was pouring down heavily from the riverbank. The water was rising in the streams, ditches, and ditches. I was used to crossing the “Ko Htoo Roe” and I had to cross it. I don’t know how it happened. I couldn’t find a foothold under my feet, so I tried to hold on, but when I tried to hold on, I drowned. The Kansun leaf basket also slipped out of my hand and was swept away by the current.

I struggled in the water, and after I was swept away by the water, I managed to grab a bush from the shore and escape drowning. I didn't know where the basket had gone. I was so scared and my whole body was shaking that I didn't even remember the basket. Ma Daung Shwe said, "I hope you don't bring the basket when you get home." She hit me and I screamed, and she hit me and screamed.

I don't know how long I was beating him. Saw Maung Aye came and pulled me closer. The pain in my whole body was overwhelming. Being a motherless child was so painful. That night I missed my mother so much. I still cry thinking that if my mother had been there, this wouldn't have happened. I feel sorry for my father.