DAY: 5 November, 2 days overstayed He looks at me and his mouth turns into a snarl. The broom he holds becomes a weapon and he strides towards me and swings the broom at my head. But he never hits. Instead, with eyes that glare such disdain, he spits harsh Burmese words in my face and shoves his wrists – together – in my face. He walks away with a command to his two underlings. That was a Burmese immigration officer at the border the next morning at 6am. I had walked from Moreh to the Burmese Immigration checkpoint, which we did not ride past yesterday, and presented my case to them, and they seem more confused than anything. I was not allowed to reenter Moreh – the border was closed to foreigners without permits. I am forced to go to border control in Tamu and there I wait. You will go to Mandalay and take a flight back to Singapore. And you pay for the bus! Show me all your money. Where your money! He pats me down roughly. I give him my money pouch, where I had compartmentalised change and small notes. There is not enough to go to Mandalay! You will go to Monywa tonight, you understand? I sit and wait as patiently as I could, while my thoughts were afloat on jetpacks of panic. I was asked more questions about my journey and where I was going, and the more they asked and the more I waited, the friendlier they became. They give me orange rolls and hot tea. And then Broomman arrives. His tone is now conversant and he tells me that India and Myanmar does not have an MOU (Memorandum of Understanding). After a while he returns again and asks me questions about family and my journey, and he shakes my hand. Maybe you go Yangon can fly to India. I go to Mandalay to fly to Imphal. Ok. Ok. He left. I was soon put on a bus back to Mandalay, fee waived by the officers. It was a Christian bus, with a giant sticker on the front: JEHOVA JIRE. I was seated next to a man with elbows I believe were more a part of my body than his. His balls must have been huge because his legs were always widely splayed into my seat. On my left was a child. Behind me was a child. The window in our row was stuck, and 18 degrees at night outside was 30 degrees inside on our side. Everyone talks loudly, and at any one time, there will be three phones playing three different songs loudly and with different beats. The aisle I had to stretch my legs got taken up by a woman who dumped her pack and spread herself out to my claustrophobic horror. We went up again to the Kathapa by nightfall, but this time it was raining: the unpaved roads became earthy molasses. At 10pm, there was a vehicular buildup. A bus in front had become hopelessly stuck in the mud. By 3am, the lights went off, the drivers got blankets: We were going to sleep in the Kathapa tonight in a sardine can. DAY: 6 November, 3 days overstayed. The morning came with a terrible fog and endless rains. We got unstuck at 10am and by 11am we got stuck again at another slope. The road had become a melted chocolate rocky road. A bulldozer had to be brought in to tow our bus uphill. At 2pm, we finally get unstuck and finally again we were onward to Mandalay. We arrive in Mandalay at 2am, where I’m told I can sleep in the bus until morning. DAY: 7 November, 4 days overstayed. When morning came, they tried to explain the busfare out of my wallet with my passport hostage, and I told them quite flatly the immigration officer said free. They finally return my passport. Thankfully, the bus station is a 5 min walk to the guest house I stayed in Mandalay, where I manage to get some internet, a shower, a free breakfast, an airport transfer and information about the flight to Imphal: There are no flights to Imphal. The next flights were on the 21, 25 and 30 November on Golden Myanmar. But there is a flight to Yangon at 5. I slept at Yangon International Airport. DAY: 8 November, 5 days overstayed. The Wind have blown me across Myanmar into India on its wings of provision, even if it was for one night. Im STOKED I made it to Moreh. But so too there were an Unwind that have blown me back in Kyaikto, and then in Sagaing, and now back to Yangon. Kyaikto and Sagaing has prepared me for setbacks, and today I will face the biggest setback of this journey: I fly from Yangon to Singapore, right back to before where I started. There are very obvious questions that I too ask myself, but the answer is evasive. Im calm, but extremely disoriented. When I arrived at Changi, I became very aware that my body is now in Singapore, but my mind is in Imphal and my heart is in Nepal. Yet in all of this separation, one thing has kept me together: This Unwind has brought me back to Singapore 2 hours before a man I care deeply for will return to Singapore. And he will be the first person I meet. I, what was before a falling boulder, am now a falling feather. It is the light in the heaviness that gives me hope and God, damnit, a faith that the universe has a reason for its Winds and Unwinds, pushes and setbacks. One day I was ankle deep in rural Burmese mud, the next Im in a bar with the familiar and heartwarming faces of Carl, Silene, JC, Linus. Here in Singapore I do not have a house, but I can depend on Jacqui and Samantha for a night at Rucksack. I can tell you for a fact that the flight dates from Mandalay to Imphal mean something to me, and I know I was given a tent and a sleeping bag for a reason.
Posted on: Sun, 09 Nov 2014 09:03:19 +0000
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