Letters from Burma by Aung San Suu Kyi.

At Thamanya (1)

It was noon when we entered the three-mile radius around the hill of Thamanya that comes under the fatherly care of the /Hsayadaw/. The air hung warm and still and groups of monks, women ascetics and little novices were working on the road, the ends of their robes draped over their shaven heads, their faces well-rounded and cheerful.

There are rubber plantations all along the route from the Sittang bridge until the town of Thaton, a straggling place with a slightly battered air. When we were schoolchildren we were taught that rubber was one of the main export products of Burma. But over the last few decades our rubber industry gradually went downhill and now rubber no longer features among our important natural assets. Once upon a time Thaton with its twilight air was a thriving capital and a famous center for Buddhism, ruled over by the Mon King Manuha, a monarch who commanded the respect of friend and foe alike.

Although he was defeated in battle and carried away as a captive by King Anawratha of Pagan, Manuha's personal stature remained undiminished. Popular Burmese history has it that even in defeat his glory was so manifest, every time Manuha made obeisance to Anawratha, the victor king broke out into a goose flesh of fear. In the end, it is said, Anawratha managed to destroy Manuha's glory by underhanded means. In Pagan today there still remains the Manuha stupa with dedication by the captive king praying that he might never again, in any of his future lives, be defeated by another. The sympathetic account given of King Manuha is one of the most admirable parts of Burmese history, demonstrating a lack of ethnic prejudice and unstinting respect for a noble enemy.

But food is not primarily what the Hsayadaw provides for those who come within his ken.

The Hsayadaw is as a strong, upright tree spreading out stout branches thickly covered with leaves and laden with fruit, offering shelter and sustenance to all who come under his shade.

On and around the hill which was barely inhabited little more than a decade ago there now live over 400 monks and between 200 and 300 women ascetics, all cared for by the Hsayadaw. In addition everybody who comes to the hill can eat flavorsome vegetarian meals without any payment. Many of the villagers who live within the domain come daily for their food. On holidays when pilgrims flood in, more than 60 sacks of rice have to be cooked and almost a whole drum of oil goes into the curries. The /Hsayadaw/ is very particular about using only peanut oil in the interest of the health of his hordes of visitors.

There is a large shed in which 20 men cook rice in giant steamers made of concrete. In the kitchen, appetizing-looking curries bubble and simmer in huge wok-shaped vessels; the spoons, carved out of wood, are larger than shovels and the spatulas used for stirring are as big as rowing boat oars. Not far from the kitchen some people are engaged in making meat substitute from a type of yam. It is not difficult to be a vegetarian at Thamanya: the food, cooked with generosity and care, is both wholesome and delicious. The day or our arrival we had two lunches, one specially prepared for us and one in the pilgrims' dining hall. The second lunch consisted of just a few dishes but these were not inferior in taste to the banquet-like meal we had first eaten and replete as we were, we found it no hardship to do justice to the food of the pilgrims.

But food is not primarily what the Hsayadaw provides for those who come within his ken.

The first question he asked me after we had made our obeisances was whether I had come to him because I wanted to get rich. No, I replied, I was not interested in getting rich. He went on to explain the greatest treasure to be gained was that of nirvana. How naive I was to have imagined that the Hsayadaw would have been referring to material riches. He spoke in parables to teach us the fundamental principles of Buddhism. But there was nothing affected about him and his deeply spiritual nature did not exclude a sense of humor.

The Hsayadaw seldom leaves Thamanya but he displays astonishing knowledge of all that is going on throughout the country. He combines with traditional Buddhist values a forward-looking attitude, prepared to make use of modern technology in the best interests of those who have come under his care. There are a number of strong, useful cars in Thamanya in which the Hsayadaw's active young monk assistants go dashing around the domain checking on the road construction projects.

The Hsayadaw himself also goes out everyday (dr

iven in a Pajero donated by one of his devotees, vastly superior to our borrowed vehicle) to encourage the workers and to give them snack, pan (a preparation of betel leaf, lime and areca nuts) and cheroots. The sight of his serene face and the tangible proof of his concern for them seems to spur on the workers to greater efforts.

Whenever the Hsayadaw goes through his domain people sink down on their knees on the roadside and make obeisance, their faces bright with joy. Young and old alike run out of their homes as soon as they spot his car coming, anxious not to miss the opportunity of receiving his blessing.