Happiness

U Kyaw Tun. Story of my mother's insane Chinese cousin-in-law in Pauk during the Japanese occupation of Burma. Written in Deep River, 960102.

Sometimes, it makes me wonder who the happiest people are. Then I remember the clever saying: Ignorance is Bliss.

Early 1942 saw my mother and I in Pauk in Upper Burma as war refugees. My father was under orders from the British-Burma government to remain at his post until the evacuation order was given. So he was still in Kungyangon (kun: hkran koan:) in Lower Burma.

We were in Pauk, placed by my father under the protection of his elder "brother" (cousin) U Kyi Zin who was well respected in that area. He was feared by local bad-hats for his personal bravery, and for the fame of his kinsmen who were noted for their bravery and some mystical powers handed down from their ancestors Hpo Min Tha and Hpo Ta Gaung (brothers), and the son of one of them, U Yan Shin who was known to some as Bo Yan Shin.

When battles were being fought over one's country it's not only the regular soldiers who had to be feared, but local bad-hats as well. The breaking down of civilian law and order was usually the time to settle old scores and commit new atrocities.

There were three other in our group. Two young sisters, my mother's former students, from Dalla across the river from Rangoon. Being Lower Burma girls, they outshone the girls of Pauk who were darker in skin colour and not used to ways of the big city. The third was a boy slightly older than I - our boy servant. I still remember, for some weeks we were the centre of attraction. We had a continuous stream of visitors who came just to meet us or actually to gawk at us. The town of Pauk probably never had visitors from Rangoon before we came.

We rented a house in the adjoining compound from that of BabaGyi U Kyi Zin and duly moved into it. A few weeks later late in one dark night, a bus stopped in front of our house, and somebody shouted that we had visitors from Lower Country. My mother wasn't expecting any, but when she opened the door, she was greeted by her nephew U Ah Tat, the eldest son of her brother (cousin) U Ba Ba (ba ba) of Moulmein. U Ah Tat being Chinese more than Burmese, he was afraid of the invading Japanese soldiers. (The story of Nanking massacre had reached Burma.). He had come up to place himself under the protection of his aunt who herself had found sanctuary under the protection of her husband's relatives.

U Ah Tat did not came alone. He had with him, his half-demented mother, whom my mother called "Ah-yee-so" (a. yee so: - Burmanized Cantonese), his younger sister Si Si (Mama Si Si to me) and younger brothers: Ah Fong, Ah Khwan, Ba Chan, Ba Myint, Ba Tint. That group remained with us as long as we were in Pauk, and I'm sorry to say we lost U Ah Tat (a. kaw: to me - Burmanized Cantonese) to cholera while we were there.

My mother was at her wits. Though three-quarters Chinese herself, nobody had noticed it before. She was after all the sister-in-law of Bogyi U Kyi Zin, and nobody would turn against her. Now, that she was being joined by her Chinese relatives, she wasn't sure someone in the town might betray them to the Japanese.

So, it was decided that U Ah Tat and his family would stay out of sight as much as possible, except for the youngest brothers. It was decided to change their Chinese names to Burmese names, and that's how I remember them: Ba Myint, Ba Tint.

The only snag was Ah-yee-so. She was born in China. Her father was an official of some rank - re wun (a Custom officer or a collector of taxes from marine traffic), and she never forgot her status. She had never given up her Chinese pants. Her hair was short after Chinese fashion, whereas the Burmese women had knee-length hair. Being mentally challenged, no one could persuade her to give up her Chinese dress and take on a Burmese hta mein (woman sarong).

One day, her children stole her Chinese dresses while she was bathing, and gave her only the Burmese dresses.

"Where are my pants? Where's my jacket?" she shouted.

"Here they are".

"No, they are not!"

To Si Si, her daughter: "You stole my dresses. You're no longer my daughter." "I know. I know. That animal-woman (reference to my mother) is stealing everything from me! Oh, Oh, Oh!". She sobbed.

"That animal-woman is stealing my children from me." "Where are my young sons?" She held on to her youngest sons. "I won't let her steal you from me."

Eventually, she had no choice but to wear the Burmese dress.

Finally, the "Japanese" arrived. Not the regular Japanese, but the Burmese troops of Burma Independence Army (BIA) fighting on the side of the Japanese. However, my mother and her Chinese relatives were not totally relieved.

Then, one night, looking up at the big bright moon, Ah-yee-so burst out singing a beautiful song: a Chinese song. And she added, "Only mad persons are not happy on a night like this!"

Note:
U Ba Ba. (ba ba) Father of Ma Mya Tin, U Saw Tun's wife. U Ba Ba had two wives, the first one a China-born Chinese and the second Daw Hla Yin a Mon (mother of Ma Mya Tin). U Ba Ba first wife was a daughter of a highly-placed Chinese official in the service of the Manchu dynasty of China. U Ba Ba's father-in-law was described as Yay wun (ray wun) -- a Custom officer in Canton. When U Ba Ba's first wife became insane, he married Ma Hla Yin daughter of one of his employees.