[Above photo: Children playing in the street below my deck before the monk speaks.]
3 February, 2019
I was talking with a cabbie who asked for my age. 78yo. He said, “My father is 70yo. Men that age in our country are—“and he demonstrated, shrunken, crumpled over. I’ve been very fortunate and not needed to abuse my body seriously with food, drink, or tobacco. I’ve always liked physical exercise and currently try to get my steps in, as well as 25 minutes of stretching and small-weight lifting each day. I have now abandoned the lift in the building and regularly walk up the 9 floors. And I take all the pedestrian overpasses here, both for the stairs and to avoid getting killed by aggressive cabbies. Death has, since I was a child, hung round my door. Outwardly it is from identifying with my father who died at 55yo when I was 9. Less consciously it is because I always anticipated a fatal punishment for my Oedipal victories. Now I’ve outlived my father (d at 55yo), my mother (d at 78yrs 3 months), my grandfather (d. in his mid-40’s) and my brother (d. at 42yo). They all had full lives, even if nipped in their respective buds. If mine ends on this distant shore, I’ll have seen my share of splendors and tragedies. Perhaps my turn of mind is prompted by the fact that we’ll leave at 3:30AM tomorrow morning for Nay Pyi Taw, a 5 hour drive. We would never do this in Malawi, where we might encounter 18 wheelers parked in the middle of the highway showing no taillights or a pile of rocks set across the road by a group of men who would rob you when you stopped. No second thought about it in the US and apparently not here, either.
This week I’ll note here the days of life in my week, as much to confirm for myself how inconsequential they are right now as to give you a flavor. I want my class to begin!
Monday 28 January I wrote my blog and had my language lesson. There is too much new vocabulary with no familiar cognates and my brain is exhausted after 1 ½ hours. I can now count to ten: tit, nit, thone, lei, nga, chauk, khun hnit, shit, koe, ta seh. I can also count into the millions and billions but I’ll never need those numbers, given my Fulbright salary.
Tuesday 29 January I was fleshing out my presentation for Grand Rounds tomorrow when—of course—my first electricity blackout descended. In the middle of the day. I had no computer charge or internet to search for articles. 5 hours. Oh, well, I’ve learned to roll with these little inconveniences. I know enough off the top of my head to talk for 1 ½ hours about Safety and Quality in Child and Adolescent Mental Health. So I didn’t stress unduly and wrote up what I could.
I also trudged in the heat to City Mall St. John and bought a huge pop-up mosquito net for my bed. One “bugged” me all night. I finally cornered and exterminated her in the bathroom. There isn’t malaria to worry about here, as in Malawi, but there is dengue, which is no fun at all and for which there is no treatment other than fluids, antipyretics, and rest. The net, with springy plastic poles, was so cleverly folded that I had trouble restoring its desired, “popped up”, shape. Now it is a massive 6 foot high dome over my entire king-sized bed. And I sleep like an infant. An infant’s only worry is, “Will the breast be there when I want it?”. I’ve given up on that for now, so I just rest without anticipation.
Wednesday 30 January I met Dr. Tin Oo at the head of my street and he drove (flew?) me—-He is a true road warrior!—to the Yangon Mental Hospital. We had snacks and he taught a class in his office about psychiatric assessment to a group of 4 Emergency Medicine Residents, while I read through The Child Law: Rules related to the child from the Ministry of Social Welfare, Relief, and Resettlement. It is a good document, although it deals too generally, in my opinion, with the abuse of children. Basically, it derives from the 1990 United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC), the first internationally ratified document of its kind. All but 2 of the UN members have signed and ratified it. Myanmar was one of the first to do so, in 1991. Somalia hasn’t because it doesn’t have a recognized government. And, you guessed it, neither has the US of A. Both 42 (Bill Clinton) and 44 (Barack Obama) vowed to ratify it but never did. What is with our cooperative spirit here? Many of the rights were drawn from our Constitution; others we’ve contributed to the Articles. All I can imagine is that the UN is too politically unpopular in the US. We lack the long view in the US and are such a parochial nation sometimes, despite the vast well of individual generosity to be found. I think we are just too far from other countries so most people don’t travel or even have passports. I imagine Zeno* would have felt right at home, excepting his toga would have gotten him shunned, perhaps jailed. [Actually, it’s xeno (foreign or strange)-phobia.]
Dr. Tin Oo and I walked through many buildings and covered walkways in the 1200 bed mental hospital to get to the auditorium. We sat at the head table, Dr. Tin Oo being the Chief, and 80 psychiatrists and psychiatric residents from the 3 local medical schools (University of Medicine 1 & 2 and Military University of Medicine) sat at tables arranged in a U while we were served tea leaf salad, coffee, tea, grapes, sunflower seeds, and mandarin orange slices. Then Dr. Kyi Min Tun summarized a 5 day conference he’d attended on communicable disease prevention in hospital settings. Time for lunch. I’m thinking, I like this pace! Then back for my little talk.
It was fun, passing from the history of the concept of childhood to the history of protections for children in different countries. Among the “Factory Laws” passed in England, in 1833 one asserted that only children over 9yo could work in woolen and cotton mills and they couldn’t work more than 60 hours/week! I think it was similar in the coal mines. Then, eventually, along came compulsory education and the UNCRC. I talked about what was needed for Safety and Quality in Child and Adolescent Mental Health including: a strong, developmentally-attuned, incorruptible judiciary and smart, understanding laws; robust medical and social service systems of care for children; and a comprehensive system of mental health care services adequately staffed by well-trained, up to date professionals of a variety of stripes. Then I gave a couple of clinical examples from Malawi and asked for questions. I couldn’t get the audience to be very interactive, as I had expected, and we all laughed together at that. It was fun and I hope imparted some useful ideas.
Afterward, Dr. Tin Oo asked if I would like to accompany him for two days at a meeting in Nay Pyi Taw, the new and deserted-looking capitol. Of course. At this juncture I’ll accept any invitation, not knowing what doors it might open. Well, no “girly massages” as I am always solicited by young men when I walk through the Sule Pagoda area which tourists frequent. I feel I’m being allowed to get a little closer to things with this invitation and I am most eager to be of assistance.
In the evening, as people are warming up for Chinese New Year on 5 Febuary a group of revelers in red costumes with drums and cymbals made a huge noise walking the length of my block of Sint O Dan Lan. I hope to return from Nay Pyi Taw on the 5th in time to see the Dragon Parade.
Thursday 31 January The water system has two reservoir tanks tucked in the ceilings of the bathrooms. I must turn on a pump occasionally to fill them. But I use very little water. There is a small booster pump that activates when I turn on the faucet or shower so there is better pressure than simple gravity feed. The booster pump was running continuously when I got up this morning and yet there was no water pressure. Hm. After sleuthing around, I noticed that the outside walkway was flooded and a faucet was open and flowing freely. It is on a side of the apartment where I never go. There is, however, a fire escape. I think there must have been a prowler in the night who caught his clothing on the faucet in passing. I cannot explain it otherwise, unless someone is just messing with me. ( On further reflection, I’ll bet it was the 14yo girls who live in the building doing a prank. I once ushered them off my deck. They had come up the fire escape, being bored teens. No self-respecting cat burglar would leave a faucet gushing away.) There has also been a chronic leak in the kitchen sink drain, so I called the owner’s representative and he sent someone. I explained it all to him and he fixed the leak. He didn’t have much English and used a translation app that worked really well so I installed and tried it: I said, “A thief”. The app wrote, “Oil”. I said, “The drain leaks.” The app wrote, “Toast”. I have great hopes for it but clearly haven’t mastered it yet! Now to study my Myanmar so I can wow! my instructor tomorrow. And communicate with plumbers. I’ve added “Help!”, “Get away!”, and “Thief!” to my vocabulary.
After talking with his boss, the handyman is going to put a locked cover over the fire escape to prevent intruders. Maybe I’ll get a long rope so I can repel from my deck railing to a nearby roof if a fire starts. Ah, the joys of city living!
Then beers [sitting] on the deck at 5PM with Cecily and her friend, who are hopping a bus for parts unknown (to me) tonight. They are leaving their kathundu for me to keep. Kathundu only eat dust and mosquitos, so I may be reluctant to part with them when she returns. ( I later learned that kathundu means “stuff” in Chichewa.)
Friday 1 February I discovered that in the morning there is the most amazing fruit, vegetable, and meat/fish market on 18th street, one short block from my digs on Sint O Tan Lan. Later in the day it has all folded up so I have never seen it previously. The early bird, and all that.
Speaking of birds, crows predominate here; they are small and have a varied call. There are pigeons, as well. And house sparrows. An occasional hawk wheeling overhead. But virtually nothing else. We had such a wide variety of birds moving through our garden in Blantyre that this feels pretty impoverished, as clever as crows are.
Saturday 2 February I walked early, before the noonday sun, to Bogyoke Market and bought some Shan shorts—-traditional hand-woven, naturally-dyed fabric. One size fits all and you must fold over the extra waistline and secure it with a tie which is attached behind. Less than $5, with two flap pockets. And three white shirts for teaching. And a small suitcase since I don’t want to carry a backpack to Nay Pyi Taw. .
Pleased with my purchases—the shirts are a light weight cotton and cost about $5.50 each—-I arranged to meet an acquaintance of a good friend from the Bay Area. She is a primary school teacher, 60yo, 4 kids grown and off, and has lived and worked in Caracas, Mumbai, and, now, Yangon. I got wind of a little restaurant serving Kachin food and we met nearby, across from the huge Hledan Center. My god, and I thought Chinatown was busy! A fantastic street food scene with yummy grilled fish. Have to return and take a chance sometime. Anyway, Mu Ai Kachin is a tiny hole-in-the-wall up a narrow alley that serves the most exquisite food, presented with an artist’s touch. I let Ruth order and I skipped around the corner to buy some beer. We tucked into a wonderful and beautiful meal, leaving after several hours, stuffed.
Sunday 3 February I’ll write my blog, pack for the early departure, study Myanmar, and, possibly, mop the floor today. I wash and dry my feet every night before bed, they get so dirty padding around. I could wear sock or slippers, I suppose, but everyone seems to accept that feet get dirty and can be cleaned. With all the unstructured time I now have, I realize how work has kept me from having to be very disciplined. Three areas present themselves daily: my stretching-exercise routine, my language study, and, when a craving is upon me, limiting my intake of something sweet in the house. Usually I just have nothing around except fruit and that makes it easy. But I bought a box of raw palm sugar balls which are so good. But I almost threw them out rather than have to limit myself to one or two a day. Then I thought, that is so weak and stupid. So I’ll exercise that discipline muscle, as well.
There are acrobats performing on my street on a series of pedestals of varying heights (4 feet-8 feet) to cymbal/drum music every night now as Spring Festival approaches. And percussion accompanies the “little” dragons, 2 or 3 people, as they go into each shop on the street, presumably for donations. As I sit on my deck writing, the congregation in the old Baptist Church on the corner—75 yards away as the crow flies, as they often do—is singing something with many verses to the tune of “Happy Birthday”. Since Christmas is past, I’ll guess it’s a hymn in Myanmar to that tune. The girls at the school in the same church during the week really belt out songs; it thrills a little, to hear the energy in all those unified voices.
What great works of benefit to all we could do if we just had thoughtful and enlightened leadership!
*I include this for fun. Zeno of Elea, a 5th c. B.C.E. thinker, is known primarily for propounding a number of ingenious paradoxes. The following reconstruction attempts to capture something of how Zeno may have argued. For anyone (S) to traverse the finite distance across a stadium from p0 to p1 within a limited amount of time, S must first reach the point half way between p0 and p1, namely p2.
Before S reaches p2, S must first reach the point half way between p0 and p2, namely p3. Again, before S reaches p3, S must first reach the point half way between p0 and p3, namely p4. There is a half way point again to be reached between p0 and p4. In fact, there is always another half way point that must be reached before reaching any given half way point, so that the number of half way points that must be reached between any pn and any pn-1 is unlimited. But it is impossible for S to reach an unlimited number of half way points within a limited amount of time. Therefore, it is impossible for S to traverse the stadium or, indeed, for S to move at all.
Too clever by far!
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 