Khin Swe Oo - Do Tay Dhani

(1)

Heading north... China.

To the south... the Bay of Bengal and the Mottama.

To the west... Assam, Manipur and

Hello.

Moving forward... China and Thailand.

"My uncle" was the first person to learn about the state of Myanmar when he was in the fourth grade. My uncle was able to draw a map of Myanmar by hand at that age. He could already draw the winding coastlines and the winding borders with just one line.

The location of Burma, which is located between 10° and 29° northeast latitude and 92° and 101° east longitude, on the Indochina Peninsula in southern Asia, was also described as "uncle".

"Uncle... you draw maps very well."

Khin Lay Mi looked at the map of Myanmar in her uncle's exercise book and admired it in amazement.

"It's not good, my dear, I'm just coughing a lot."

The little boy answered shyly and softly.

“Really, Htwe. Try teaching me how to draw a map of Myanmar. My school doesn’t teach about Myanmar, Htwe. My teacher said… You know, Myanmar is free, what’s the use? The country is only a tiny speck, and you don’t teach it in any way.”

Khin Lay Mi spoke calmly and calmly, but the boy became agitated and slammed his fist on the table.

“Look... My teacher is living in Burma, wearing a black dress, and speaking ill of Burma. Are you getting this?”

"Oh... what if my brother doesn't accept it? He's a teacher, how dare he say that? Besides, when I look at the world map, I remember that the teacher was right when she said that Myanmar is small and small."

"Now... this is not going to happen, don't stay at this school, if you stay at this school, I'll lose my mind."

"I'm interested... how?"

Khin Lay Mi could not understand the big words that “Htwe” used at her age. In fact, Mi and Htwe were the same age, just turning 11, but they had different understandings. “Htwe” was raised in a national school, while Mi was raised in a missionary school from the time she was a baby. Therefore, Mi could not understand the words that Htwe said.

"What a slave mentality... My dear brothers and sisters, Myanmar is now a slave to others."

"A slave from Myanmar ? A slave to others ? If you're not a Myanmar citizen, why are you a slave to others? I don't understand what you're saying."

When Mi interrupted, the little boy became confused, stamping his feet on the floor and shaking his head.

"Oh... My mother is also deaf. She can't speak, she can't explain, it's hard."

Htwe has been reading since she was 10 years old. Even as a child, she always thinks like an adult. She is an adult. She is an adult. She can't stand it when my mother comes to visit her because she wants to play. Now, when she throws the little buffalo doll that my mother brought to play on the bed and draws a map, Htwe starts talking like an adult.

"I want to know, my dear, tell me as much as you know."

"More than 50 years ago, the British captured the King of Burma, Thibaw, and illegally occupied Burma. Since then, the Htwe have been slaves of the British."

Htwe was only a 10-year-old child, so he could not tell me what he knew, what he had been told, and what he had been told in his womb. His mother was not as intelligent as Htwe, so she kept thinking about the story of the Burmese slaves as if it were a problem in her head. When she returned home and played with her friends, she forgot what she had told Htwe.

*

September 1939...

The late afternoon rain was still falling heavily, with thunder and lightning.

Mi, wearing a helmet, ran towards the house of Htwe, who was standing on the side of the road behind the house. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, shattering the earth.

"Oh...oh my, why did you have to run in the rain?"

The mother of the little ones spoke to her mother while stirring the rice pot.

"I came to the hospital"

Mi walked past the kitchen and up to the upper floor where Htwe and Kyaung-yin were. Htwe's house was a two-story, wooden house built of wood on Bintan Road, at the top of Along Htee Tan Mountain. The square teak pillars were imposing. The floor and steps were polished with a glossy color. Mi, who was rushing up the stairs, bumped into someone. As she was going down, the person who was climbing was on the lower step, so she lost her balance and slipped and fell backwards.

Only when he held her tender little arm with his warm, strong hand did he manage to keep her from falling. She shivered briefly and looked up.

"Hey... are you afraid of not meeting your brother?"

The clear, powerful voice silenced even a child like Mi. Mi could not yet respond, but stared at her older brother, Ko Thura. At that time, Ko Thura was only 19 years old. Ko Thura was about 5 feet 10 inches tall, and his body was slightly thin, so he seemed very tall. However, his broad shoulders, broad chest, and strong neck made him look thin, but handsome.

His short, wavy hair was soft and curled over his broad forehead. His skin was quite fair, and his mustache and beard were green. If you look at Ko Thura's face, there is no trace of beauty. His eyes, shining brightly under his thick eyebrows, and his nose, which stands out from the rest of his face, make him look handsome. Ko Thura's lips are the opposite of those that are said to be plump and thin. Their lips are slightly thick and rounded. However, they are tightly pressed together, making them look pleasing to the eye.

"On the couch... I'm bored alone because you didn't come."

"Yes, I'm going to the vet now."

"Aye. . . Aye, go, I'm waiting for you."

Ko Thura ran down the stairs. Mi stayed behind, staring at Ko Thura. The white short-sleeved shirt and the black tie with tamarind slices still linger in Mi's mind. At that time, Mi didn't think of Ko Thura as a patriotic young man who would join the front lines of the Burmese liberation struggle. In Mi's mind, Ko Thura was only her eldest brother, her second cousin, and someone worthy of respect and admiration.

"I laughed because I bumped into my older brother while going up the stairs."

Htwe is writing his daily diary on the table, with the older man holding his hand. Htwe's handwriting is beautiful and neat, and he is good at Burmese. My mother can't even read properly, let alone write like Htwe.

“My older brother is also very busy, he doesn’t see anything, and he and Pwe often clash.” “Pwe write in that book every day, right?”

Htwe nodded. Mi pulled out Htwe's diary. Mi felt very sorry for Htwe. She wanted to be like Htwe. She wanted to know. The book was the size of a copybook, with a black cardboard cover. There were dates in the book.

“I just started writing. My brother gave me this book. I told my mother that I wanted to keep a diary. My brother heard about it, so he gave me this book so that I wouldn’t lose it, and that I would write regularly every day.”

Although he was only 11 years old, Htwe's face was as calm as an adult's. His eyes were wide open and he was staring at Htwe intently.

"Then I want to remember you too."

“Remember, my dear, your mother told me that keeping a daily journal is a valuable habit.”

"My mother won't be able to write like my brother, it's hard."

In the fourth grade of my mother's school, I only learned about kindergarten reading. I learned Burmese at home. Since my mother was not very good at it, Daw Gyi Taw Thu Daw Hnin (Htwe's mother) taught me Burmese in her free time. At that time, my mother had learned Burmese at about grade 2 or 3. My son, however, was in grade 4, but he had not learned Burmese beyond grade 4. In addition, I read Burmese novels,