The Going Home Memoir: a few words into a deep heart

The Going Home Memoir: a few words into a deep heart

(September 6 – October 3, 2010)

From time to time I go through an experience –a person, a process, a provocation-- that is memorable and transcendent. This year, when I returned to my home in Karen state, there were a few such experiences that I carried with me. And, I share them here.

II

A Small Person with a Great Personality

I would like to share about a young man who is now a fifth grader at Day Bu Noh High School in Karen State’s war zone. He is smaller than his classmates, but what he lacks in raw height he makes up with his great personality. I met him 4 or 5 years ago. His mother runs a small shop out of her house on the way between Tha Dah Der and Day Bu Noh. We used to stop by the shop en route to Tha Dah Der. She has four small children; he was her firstborn.

From my porch, I can see the soldiers’ barracks. One day, while sitting there, I saw a young man standing amidst the soldiers. He was ordinarily dressed – a military green hat, and a small green bag across his shoulder. He wore a worn out t-shirt distributed by one of the relief organizations as a gift from Good Life Club (American Christian kids club in the U.S) and a pair of red soccer-shorts. But his face intrigued me, so I asked his name. One of the soldiers said the young man was from Welloh Klo, a place between Tha Dah Der and Day Bu Noh. I invited him for coffee.

He walked the twenty or so yards to my steps with a shy smile. He sipped his coffee quietly; his manner was respectful and serious. I asked him about his life, and he answered sweetly but precisely. He told me he was in his fifth year of studies, and had to leave home to go to school, because a school nearby his village only goes to the fourth grade. He lives with his uncle who is a soldier in the Karen National Liberation Army (KNLA) in a military barrack with four other soldiers. . I asked him if he knew or recognized me. He smiled and said yes.

After a few minutes, he finished his coffee. He got up, and rinsed his cup with water twice. I listened to his stories and watched him with awe. And then, he thanked me and asked to be excused.

I was touched by his manner—the way that he engaged me—a stranger. And I pondered how such a sweet spirit could be preserved in a war zone. Such gentleness would be extraordinary even among children raised in the peaceful West, and yet his personality prevailed even in the face of the brutality of war.

My last night in Karen state, I asked one of the soldiers to ask the young man to visit me. Later, he came with a little red torch-light with a rope wrapped around his neck. I asked him what he had been doing; he smiled shyly and responded: “I was just doing my homework.” I told him that I wanted to say goodbye and to give him something before I left. I handed over some small gifts; he thanked me and left.

I was struck by several things about this young man: first, the grace which exceeded his age; and second, his seriousness in his study. But mostly, I was humbled by his disposition, against such odds. Yes, the war has destroyed the lives of thousands of Karen people, but this young man reminded me of the beauty that persists.

May Oo

xxxx