A Burmese Points to More Work

I was climbing halfway up the Mahazedi stupa and looking up I can see smiling kids running around just under the Bell shaped rim. I start to engage the kids, then I heard a young man above them say, “You look like a woman.” He was perched up high looking down at me. I didn’t respond, did not look him the eye, plus I never let in stop me in my tracks. I figured out he was with the older group who pimped the smaller kids to charm the tourists out of money climbing the stupa in Bago. It was just a straight man’s call of dominance where I guess he felt some weakness. He had no intention to escalate his hatred. Hanging out on a stupa with a good view makes sense, but not when one figures out the real motive. Reaching the top of the stairs I look to the right and see a monk meditating while facing the stupa, and I continue to engage the younger boys, and look around while enjoying the view especially of the huge reclining Buddha looking very rested in the green in the distance.

I was hurt, his words kept replaying in my mind, and now I think I should thank him for this pointer of where I am still attached to me and mine. If he said them in Burmese I would have never known. I felt stupid for letting this continue and it was the only hassle, I had the whole five days in Myanmar. I had a great taxi driver I found in Yangon that drove me to most sites in Bago who was a great person.  Everybody I met those five days were great from kids to adults and I spent an hour talking to random strangers different nights while photographing night scenes. I felt welcomed, and never threatened. Then I began to see the hole that still remained even with all my meditation. I still had expectations to inspire people, to be included.... even with my injury. And I did with my communication and kindness with my taxi driver.


This hole also included the separation I feel by still not able to communicate well in spite of all the work I have done to date. As the sun set on the way home in the cab, I fell asleep exhausted from trying to ignore the words earlier. When I awoke, the driver and I discussed getting some Indian food, and he would not join me, because he had to eat with his wife when he got home. I offered to be dropped off to eat, but he insisted on waiting... to take me back to the hotel. A kind and generous man who I will hire again when I return with my partner. He drove me to a good place that served fast, and I hurriedly woofed it down so he could get home faster.  I still felt enough energy to walk after a quick shower and go shoot scenes that night(some you see here), ending with a rickshaw ride home by a handsome Burmese who patiently waited for me to finish a conversation I had with a local, by looking in my direction, to insure he had one last fare for the evening.