New Eagle - Thita Thaung Chee Oo

The winter snow was falling like a blanket. Looking up from this side, you couldn't see the fields of beans and corn on the other side as you usually do. The white snow was so thick that it obscured all the views on the other side.

Not only did it obscure the view of the other side, but the snow and dew were falling in all directions. The trees, big and small, stood still, as if drinking the sweet, sweet nectar. They were motionless.

The entire Ayeyarwady River was covered with snow. There was no sound of rowing in the river. It was the time of the flood and the time of the flood was approaching. The river was calm and calm. The water on the banks of the river was steaming due to the impact of the snow.

This place is steep. Some of the lower parts are sandy loam. When you go down to Kiekanthay village, there is no cultivation on the steep banks. On the loam and alluvial plains, there are small thatch, myrtle, sugarcane fields, medicinal plants, bean fields, and green fields. The farmers in that area cultivate as much as possible on the alluvial plains, so that not an inch of space is left.

After a while, the sun began to break through the snow-covered ground. The snow-covered branches and leaves of the tall trees growing tall on the cliffs were covered with snow, and the dewdrops were falling to the ground.

Then, a chill crept in. The blue shoreline shimmered as the gentle sunlight touched it. The frozen snow, as soon as it saw the sunlight, began to run away.

Ma Nan Eain sat by the fire, contemplating the invisible middle of the river.

"When will he come back?" The thought of this was pounding at Ma Nan's heart. The dried leaves and twigs were burning brightly in the fire pit between their mother and son.

A small hut with four wooden poles erected in a square shape, covered with a thatched roof, was covered with straw. A fisherman tied the rope of a small fishing boat to a stump on the shore. When the waves hit the side of the boat, it made a swish sound.

Ma Nan Eain looked out over the river, where she could see nothing, and was very much distressed. Her eyes could not see anything. Only her ears were focused on a certain sound. Ma Nan Eain heard the sound of living movement in the river, where the sound of water and boats was heard more than the lifeless sound of the fishing boat.

Ma Nan Ein's eyes could not see anything, but the sense of smell in both of her ears was able to distinguish the sound of some living thing paddling in the river.

This kind of awareness and discrimination had been practiced and memorized by Ma Nang Ein for about three years. From that time on, she had to abandon all the visual perception of her present life, both the perception of the self and the perception of the unconscious. Therefore, Ma Nang Ein had to rely more on the right and wrong side of the mind than on visual perception.

"The sun is shining, Mom..."

Mya Yin looked out over the river and then called her mother, Ma Nang, to her house.

"It's good to come back today."

Ma Nan Eain remained silent, saying only those words. Although the person was quiet, his mind seemed to be wandering around in a whirlwind of thoughts, as if he were constantly thinking about them.

"It's still early, Mom."

His daughter spoke as she stared intently at the riverbank, which was still covered in snow and could not see anything clearly. However, her mother, Ma Nan Ein, did not respond at all.

"Two years ago, I caught about five fish at this time, Mom," Mya Yin continued, but Ma Nan's house didn't move a single bit.

“The fishermen also like fish, frogs, and carp. They cooked a soup with thorn leaves and fish and frogs in sour soup. It was very delicious. I still remember it, Mom.”

Mya Yin swallowed hard as she said that. It was as if she was reliving memories from the past. Mya Yin said it was two years ago, but it wasn't. In fact, it was more than three or four years ago.

“It’s not just two years, Mya-rin, it’s been more than three or four years,” Ma Nan-ein said.

Mya Yin listened thoughtfully as if pondering her mother's words. She seemed to be thinking about the three or four year journey.

"How many years has it been since I couldn't find fish around here, my dear father? You mean the year when the king of Kyaukphyu was crowned..."

Ma Nan's words were true. It had been more than three, almost four years since a fisherman from their fishing village had been fishing around here and there without any success.

However, they do not think about why, like in the past, they cannot find food or fish in this area, their home in the Ayeyarwady River.

They moved from place to place, from place to place, from place to place, day after day, they changed their fishing nets. After days and months and years of this, the fishing nets here and there began to run out of fish and their stomachs began to feel dry.

Then, with the hope of finding fish, they often go to the old man and the owner of the fishing ground. They do not think about how the fish that they have been catching day after day as a livelihood since their ancestors have been declining. Their trust is that if they do not find fish, they will always be angry and think that the old man and the owner of the fishing ground are not happy and think that they cannot find fish.

This is a tradition that the entire village of Ma Nan and her family, a small fishing village, has inherited from their ancestors.

They believe that as long as the waters of the Ayeyarwady River do not dry up, they will still catch fish every time they fish, cast nets, or cast nets.

No fisherman or fisherman understands the concept of breeding fish. They don't know how to plan and implement strategies to prevent the fish from dying. With their greed and lust for fish, they sell and eat whatever they catch, even if it's a small fish.

“That year, even at home, there was only a fish-sized fish paste, a fish-sized salted fish, and the whole village had only a fish-sized fish paste,” Ma Nan Eain herself once muttered, as if recalling the past. She felt as if the once-pungent smell of fish-sized salted fish had once again filled her nostrils.

"Yes, of course."

Mya Yin yawned and supported her mother, Ma Nan Ein, with a sigh. Mya Yin's eyes again saw the fish stew, the pickled thorn leaves, and the fish paste.

"Nowadays, I can't even see fish paste anymore, Mom... Back then, I used to beg for it, and I would have to cook a pot of it every time I went to a house."

Mya Yin broke a dry branch from his hand into three or four pieces and threw it into the fire, continuing to talk about fish paste and thorn leaf pickle.

"Well... I'm getting thirsty from rafting now, huh?"

Ma Nan Eain murmured and finally finished her meal.

In the past, their husbands and brothers would work all night long, casting nets, casting nets, and casting nets. They would return home at dawn and sell the fish they caught to fishmongers or the market. This is no longer the case. They would have to travel two or three days to areas where nets were available, cast nets, and sell them in nearby areas, and then return home every three or four days.

The new dawn gradually brightened as it rolled in. The young trees, sprinkled with dew, and the green fields of peanuts were refreshingly awake. The mighty river began to part with the silvery water that had covered it, welcoming the new dawn of humanity.

"Try to look forward, my daughter."

Mya Yin stood up from her seat, held one of the pillars of the small four-poster hut with one hand, and looked up on tiptoe toward the wide riverbed and the sandy peninsula.

The river, which opened the silver kambala, was so beautiful that it was breathtaking. Not a single boat could be seen. The river was as clear as a silver sheet. It was so clear that not a single boat, like a speck, was visible.