I’m sitting here after Burma VI staring at the screen. I want to do another. My brain says, “You must be nuts. I’m tired!”
There’s a reason this is so exhausting.
Imagine, if you will, watching a movie and feeling like you’re there right in the middle of the action.
Make it 3D.
That’s what is going on while I write this, especially starting now. See, in 1961 when I was 8 years old, some of the events that I speak of here bring back memories of other events, other places in the world, other discussions I remember overhearing that had little or nothing to do with Burma, but had to do with SEATO and the Bandung Conference, things I remember Ethel talking about happening in Pakistan at this time – and her thinly veiled comments about the Western world and their disregard for certain Asian and African nations.
I remember Zhou Enlai. I remember Jawarharlal Nehru. I remember U Thant.
I remember integrity and respect, and sometimes I remember the lack of both.
I remember being so irritated with my mother once when I was 12 that when she said there were starving children in China, I got a shoebox, packed my dinner in it, and was ready to ship it off. If there were children starving, why were we eating so damned much?? I was serious.
My grandfather was once a missionary in Japan. He wrote about that. I have it somewhere in my things.
Aunt Daisy was an ambassador to eastern Europe. Somewhere I still have the letter of introduction from William Jennings Bryan, then Secretary of the State, and something she wrote about Poland prior to World War I.
Ethel worked for the U.N. many places – Pakistan, Israel, Turkey, Egypt, many places in the Middle East. I used to have things she brought back from there. They were stolen.
I remember our friends from Egypt, Korea, and Bengal. I distinctly, in fact, remember what I knew as the Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971.
In all cases, I have memories of conversations, discussions, and some very strongly expressed opinions from that time in 1961 through the early 1970s. As I go through this period in Burmese history, up to the present time, they will come flooding back and I will have to stop and breathe. It may take a few days to write because of this, but I am not stopping.
Lael said to me tonight that I have lived a rich life. It has been diverse. It will continue to be diverse because I intend for it to stay that way. God is not finished with me yet, and until he is, I am not finished with the world.
**Additional note: 7 June 2008:
The series will continue. Since I’ve written these parts, much has happened. I was not wrong that Americans in particular walked away from the situation in Burma after a couple of weeks, but then they have come back since the devastation of Cyclone Nargia. America’s appetite for sensationalism has yet to be quenched. They care only that the U.S. makes it look like an attempt was made to help, and that the U.S. government (in the white hats) has been turned away by the evil junta (in the black hats) while the Burmese (the settlers) suffer. The truth is that many NGOs and foreign aid workers have been going in from many nations and giving their assistance. The U.S. could be less stupid about this, give their aid to the NGOs and foreign aid workers and let the process work this way. How much simpler could that be? Instead, we take our chocolate bars and go home in a huff. More on that a little later.