Dr. Than Tun - Moe Kyaw Shwe Gyen

My friend, who was sitting across the desk from me, looked at me while he was studying papers and said, "Sign here, that's it."

The candlelight flickered in the cool evening air. The shadows cast by the light cast strange shapes on the walls of the small room. Through the open window, I could hear the muffled voices of people returning home from work. Occasionally, the sound of three-wheelers passing by in the distance, and the faint sound of warning people to avoid the road in the dim streetlights.

Through the window, which was covered with a cloth, the office staff seemed to be listening attentively to what more they would ask. Which camp should we go to with the newly arrived sub-district superintendent (SP0)? Is he a friendly and lively person, or a restless and restless person, a lazy and mean person, or a big troublemaker? Every two or three years, a new person arrives, and soon that person will know why. At this moment, when a new person arrives in a small town, the office staff has not yet returned home, but they are waiting happily in the office. But what about the new person who has just arrived? They are not only family members but also strangers, and they are eager to chat with him in the tea shop or at home while having dinner.

As soon as I signed with the big, ringing pen in the office, I was greeted with a loud voice, “I am now the administrative officer of the Kawkareik District.” I was responsible for collecting taxes, collecting rent, land, mortgage, inland revenue, fishing tax, hunting license, gun license, district judge, police station, smuggling, preventing and arresting gin and liquor smugglers, and the chairman of the community peace committee, health committee, municipality, and dispensary, etc.

Since I, who hold the highest position in the entire region, have become the person in charge of the Emperor, if anyone higher in rank than me, whether it be the commander-in-chief of the army, the air force, or the navy, comes to this region without an officer from our department, I will have to take care of them.

To be precise, on September 7, 1940, I was 25 years old. I took over the reins of our department from the senior officer who had come to Cox's Bazar three years earlier, who was more experienced than I was. In fifty years, the "field" has become a more important place than ever before. The relevant documents were signed by the old and new, and the office was filled. The old man returned to his house, which would soon become my home. I returned to the mansion where my wife, Doreen, was waiting. After handing over the reins, he left Cox's Bazar the next morning, as was customary.

The headquarters of the town, Kawkareik, is about the size of a county. The town has grown in size in the last fifty years. The population is now about seven or eight thousand. The main road is paved, and runs through the fields to Kyongdo on the Hang Thaw River. There is a ferry that runs daily to Mawlamyine. On the other side, the road is in disrepair and forty miles away, winding around the Dawna Mountains, is the Thai border. The town boasts three steam-powered rice mills. There are also quite a few monasteries and pagodas. The only thing that can be said to be on the road to development is the provision of electricity and street lights. To be rich, we must rely on good rice production and a brisk retail trade.

If you walk through the market on the main road, you will be amazed by the variety of people. Burmese, Shan, Karen, Mon, Chinese, and Kala all mix together in their traditional clothes. Kawkareik is a border town, with a mix of different ethnic groups. Here and there, you will see groups of people, scattered and scattered. The clothes are also rough. People from nearby villages come to shop, go shopping, and try out the biscuits. At night, they watch the show. They enjoy the show.

We call Kawkareik a forest camp. The king who went there before us said, 'This place is so beautiful.' People who live in such isolated villages can only rely on rice production. For them, "going to the city doesn't mean going to a place like Mawlamyine. Now it means coming to this place and mixing with the people. The slang and the dialect are getting more and more common. 'The conductor shouted loudly, reciting the route. The seats will be full. Don't be discouraged, if you don't take this car, you will have to walk through the forest and over the mountains.

In their small villages, you can't travel in style on the rickshaws invented by the Burmese. There are no electric street lights in their villages. There are no shops that sell until sunset. There are no tea shops to feed the passersby. These are completely different from Kawkareik. People can laugh and talk, and live in peace and quiet.

Beyond the signpost that says 'to the border', the road rises sharply. On that hill is the official's 'man's hut'. It is a small two-story house. From the top, you can see the road through the forest. If you go straight ahead, you will see the Dawna Mountains, the ever-green forest road, that's all there is to it and the border. The majestic mountains are covered with green trees. If you can get past these, you will reach the border town of Myawaddy.

The sound of the noisy buses, the sounds of the passengers crammed into the bus, the sound of the cars getting on and off the bumpy road, the sound of the car horns that can only be heard from a distance, if you think about it, you might think that the army of the warlord Alaungma is marching. In fact, in the eighteenth century, Alaungma led his cavalry and infantry to conquer Thailand and won. We can still see the destruction of the Thai capital of Ayutthaya and the construction of a pagoda in Myawaddy to commemorate the victory. We can also see the fortifications around the village with earthworks.

Kawkareik always experiences heavy rainfall during the rainy season. I am happy with this. The rainfall is 250 inches. There is a forest between the houses and the foothills. Even the monastery built not far from the village is hidden by the forest. When the rain stops and the summer comes, there is no obstacle, and the hot sun is so intense that it feels like it has been set on fire again. The trees have also turned from green to brown and the tips of the branches and leaves have dried up. Only then can I distinguish the steps and the roof of the monastery. The forest fire has also burned down to our yard. In the evening, when the sun sets, the monastery plays the sound of the coconut tree to call for worship. Looking towards the mountains, I can see the smoke and flames burning along the mountainside. I think the black forest is framed by a golden lip.

We don't know if the peacock we received as a gift was perched on a tree or on the edge of the roof, but it is always watching. The capital is like a guard goose. It is more reliable than a guard dog. It moves its perch and warns us when strangers come, day or night. Don't disrespect the peacock. It is true that guests are afraid of it. The cat we have in the house is afraid of it. We were afraid that it would turn towards us while we were sitting at the dinner table.

The hut we live in is made of teak. There is a carved staircase to go up and down. Large doors that you can use to step on are used to enter and exit. There is no place to relax, except in Yangon. There is no system for distributing water for domestic use. There is no well dug. There is a man who brings a cart and a water barrel to give you water. The Burmese old man, he doesn’t seem to know how old he is. It is said that he was once a rich landowner, gambled a lot and now he is very poor. He carries a cart with a water barrel to the foot of the mountain where the well is. He works hard and constantly. You would never think that he was rich once. He treats everyone with a smile and a friendly smile.

In this pleasant environment, I am the ruler of the country. Since ancient times, the king has been respected as "Moe Kyaw Shwe Kyaw". I have been given this position. The responsibility is great, but I enjoy it. It is very different from sitting in the headquarters. Here, I am alone, I am alone, I am my own boss, right?