Travels In A Golden Land

When we first met Nyi Nyi

He told us all his name

Said friends all called him Frankie

And we should do the same

Because his name is hard to say

The likelihood was strong

That if we called him Nyi Nyi

We were bound to get it wrong

His English, tho, was excellent

His knowledge clearly wide

And we were all so glad that he

Was going to be our guide

That first day when we got there

He stood up on the bus

Explained that he would show us round

And take good care of us

And for two weeks he has done

In oh so many ways

Explaining life in Burma

And filling up our days

With temples and with Buddhas

With early morning flights

With rides in balloons and trips on boats

To see amazing sights

Sunrise on Lake Inle

Aboard a long tailed boat

Trekking up the mountains

To places quite remote

Taking tea in monasteries

Palata from a stall

Buddhist friezes painted

On ancient temple wall

 

Reclining Buddha sleeping

Flowers at his feet

Pink and yellow garlands

Frangipani sweet

Neon flashing halos

Lighting up gold leaf

Honouring the Buddha

The faithful bow beneath

Nuns in robes of red and pink

Walk by with shaven head

With silver bowl extended

To receive their daily bread

Children running barefoot

Monks with sandalled feet

Women cooking dumplings

Over fires on the street

Women from the hill tribes

Silver in their ears

Blackened teeth and turbans worn

As they have done for years

Beaded silver headdress

That Aka women wear

While village mother quietly

Combs length of stone grey hair

While women folk and farmers

Labour in the field

Bringing in the harvest

Gathering the yield

Of cabbages and sweet corn

Rice and ears of grain

Beans and sweet potato

Fruit and sugar cane

On patchwork quilted hillsides

Under cloud blue sky

Ochre, red and yellow

As we journey by

And so the bus drives onwards

We ask for it to stop

To take another picture

To see another shop

To buy another longhi

To buy another hat

To haggle in the markets

 To save a thousand khat

To take home a memento

So we will not forget

The time we’ve had in Burma

That’s not quite over yet

All of this and so much more

We’ve learned from being here

Memories more powerful

Than any souvenir

Images of Burma

Fabled golden land

Which, with thanks to Frankie

We begin to understand

And so, with thanks from all of us,

There’s nothing left to say

Except goodbye to Frankie

And a heartfelt “Jezebeh”

Anna Quarendon

5th Nov, 2011