1.It
was not that I wanted to eat well, for I
could afford it on my own; it was not
that I was even hungry.
However,
the hour was well past lunchtime. They
knew that since that morning I had eaten
nothing, for I had been driving them
around since eight and by now it was
nearly one in the afternoon. They were
owners of a new house under construction
in Golden Valley1 [1] and they had hired
me by the hour to go around on their
errands.
They told
me to drive to Ruby, a downtown Chinese
restaurant. As they climbed down from my
taxi, there was no invitation to join
them2[2]. It was assumed that as they
had hired me my duty was to sit in my
car and wait. As I said, I was not
hungry but I thought I must eat
something as it way past the time I
should. I went into the restaurant and
sat by myself at another table. They did
not see me at first busy as they were
opening soda bottles, or dropping ice
cubes into their glasses...
As a
waiter handed me a menu one of them saw
me and our eyes locked.
"Oh, it's
you. ..why don't you come join us?" I
knew he was asking only because he felt
he had to
and my reply sprang out of my mouth: "It
doesn't matter, if you meant it you'd
have asked me earlier."
His face
turned dark and he looked away. I felt a
flash of satisfaction.
2.Back
at their construction site, they stayed
behind and asked me to take the mason
back to his house to fetch something.
The
mason's house was in the poorer fringe
of the satellite town of South Okkalapa
and to reach his house I had to
manoeuvre through narrow back lanes and
pot-holed
roads. His
house was a small bamboo hut roofed with
thatch.
"Please,
come inside while you wait and have some
green tea," the mason invited me in.
"It's
alright, just take your time with what
you have to do. No hurry," I replied,
feeling ah nar dei3[3], and I
waited in my car.
He went
into his hut and came out in a minute
with a cup of green tea and a piece of
palm sugar on a small saucer.1 felt very
ah nar dei that he had gone to
the trouble of bringing it out himself.
"Oh, I'm
so sorry, why did you bother. .."
"That's alright."
So I
followed him back to the house and sat
down, sipping his tea.
How warm
was the green tea in the earthenware
cup, and how sweet was the palm sugar on
that enamelled saucer, its paint chipped
in places
You could
say we were friends, we have known each
other for a long time.
I knew his
wife and I was on very friendly terms
with him.
Once he
was swamped with errands to do around
town and his driver fell sick. He did
not know how to drive so he asked my
help to take him around in his car. The
whole day and evening we were busy with
his errands and when I finally drove him
home, it was well past midnight. That
was the problem, where was I to sleep?
At that hour, there were no more buses
or taxis and he said he could not give
me his car to drive home. I would not
want to take it either, it was a
responsibility I did not want but he
lived in the suburbs and I downtown. How
was I to get back?
"Why don't
you just sleep here," he said. So the
decision was made and so I walked into
October- December
2007
the house
with him. He yawned widely and went into
the bedroom; there was no sign of the
wife, she was probably asleep already.
There were
only two bedrooms in his house: one
where he and his wife slept, another one
for his toddler son and the nanny.
He has
gone into his bedroom, saying I should
sleep here, but where? On the sofa in
his front room with roaring mosquitoes,
on the floor, or curled up like a dog by
the door? He had said nothing else to
me.
I waited
to see if he would come out with a
blanket or mosquito net but saw the
light in the bedroom go out. Phew.
2.I decided
I would sleep in his car with the
windows closed, which should give some
protection against the bugs. At first I
was comfortable enough but soon the hot
weather and airlessness was making me
sweat. Finally unable to bear the heat I
opened the window a bit and just after I
felt cool enough in came troops of
mosquitoes. I was soon twitching and
turning to slap at mosquitoes and
scratching myself.
"Here,
lad, use this...at least it should keep
some bugs away." It was the night
watchmen who was dozing in the garage,
handing me a ragged cotton blanket.
"It's
alright, uncle, I can manage," I did not
want to take away his blanket.
"Nonsense,
you won't get a wink, there are so many
mosquitoes."
"But what
about you?" "1 can sit inside my
mosquito net, I have one," he said.
Still
feeling ah nar dei I took his
worn blanket.
How cosy
it was, that ragged piece of cotton.
1.His shop
selling black-market goods was close to
the taxi stand where I park my car. We
were also black market taxis, that is,
private cars without a taxi license
running a car hire service under police
radar. Actually, I did not like him
much, for he had that arrogant look on
his face as if he were feeding all other
people out of his own pockets, so I
always kept my distance.
But once I
had to buy a tin of black shoe polish
from his store, to keep my tyres looking
shining black and new. One needs to keep
one's car looking good so that customers
would prefer it to others. He asked kyat
15 and I tried to bargain but he said 15
was the last price, so I bought it
reluctantly as I really needed it but
knowing I was paying too much.
The next
day he walked over to my car. "Can I
borrow your shoe polish? I need to use a
little of it," he asked. At the time I
was busy with a fare who bargaining my
price down so I just handed over the tin
to him without a word.
I did not
get it back for three days. When I asked
it back, feeling somewhat ah nar dei
to be rude, he gave it back saying
he forgot. He did not say thank you and
even looked annoyed that I should ask
for my own property.
When I
opened the tin, I saw it was almost
empty.
2.I was
waiting by my taxi hoping for a
fare when a beggar who was not
too right in his head came up to me.
"Spare me
some coins,
I want
a cheroot," he asked.
When
I
dug into my pocket I found a
quarter and dropped it on his waiting
palm.
He
salaamed at me, and also clasped his two
hands in homage. In a while, he was back
with two cheap cheroots, sold at two for
a quarter. One was clenched between his
teeth, and one he handed to me.
"It's
alright, you keep it to smoke later," I
told him.
"Doesn't
matter,1 don't need it now. ..take it,
here.." he thrust the cheroot at me and
ambled away.
I felt
bored so Ilit up and puffed on the
cheroot. How sweet was the smoke, better
than a
Marlboro.
.
From the
Rangoon University Annual magazine
of 1977-78
(The above
short story was translated by MTG)
Atta Kyaw;
born 1952 is a prolific writer whose
main work is non fiction with
manyarticles and books on social and
health issues, including sex education
for boys and girls, proper etiquette,
good parenting and marriage counselling
tips.
He has
another nom de plume "Pseudonym;' and
both names appear regularly in magazines
and weeklies. His other books are on
travelling, short story collections and
translations such as Mahbubaini5 "Can
Asians Think?"and Alan Paton5"Cry; the
Beloved Country. " After his father
passed away when he was 18 he worked his
way through college and another degree
in Law by driving a taxi, and later
taught English privately, experiences
that gave him much material including
the short story featured above.
He has
published twenty books.
Footnotes
1 Exclusive
and wealthy residential area of
Yangon 2 It is customary for
clients when hiring a car for the
day or for long trips to invite
the driver to eat with them in the same
way that snacks and soft drinks are also
shared.
3 The
Myanmar social custom of feeling
bad to be a bother or be rude to someone
else
