After 2 intensive weeks in Metta, we moved to Bago City in three separate groups at three separate hotels. While most PC Programs would have their trainees live with host families for the duration of their training, in Myanmar certain laws make this not a possibility, so instead of host families we were assigned to sponsor families. These sponsor families were identified in the community for their eagerness to teach us about their lifestyle, culture, and language. We were given just their names, ages, and a small black diary to fill with all our survival Myanmar we have learned so far. Sadly, we had only learned classroom instruction like “sa ou phwin ba” or “close your book.” [Side note: My meticulous work to fill 10 pages of info wasn’t even used, as I was too busy being showboating around by my new family and neighborhood.] As my training group walked to the school, we were filled with excitement and met with phones and smiling faces eagerly snapping pics of us. My initial impression of my host sister (who I will not disclose her name for sake of her privacy) was her incredible sense of style and loving nature. She took my hand and off we went into the toto (taxi) to her house. Upon arrival, I met all eight family members: sister, brother, sister-in-law, father, aunt, uncle, nephew, and grandmother. Quickly I was asked if I was hungry, then I was ushered into the kitchen where I was served a buffet of shrimp, pork, chicken, vegetables, rice, chicken soup, and cucumber salad. My host sister ate with me (after my own plate was made) and then the rest of my family proceeded to either:
a) bring in more food
b) come in and comment about what I assume were the foods I did and did not like
c) take pictures of me mid chew
d) tell me I was intelligent for correctly saying “pyan pwaw ba” or “please repeat” (obviously they had low expectation of my Myanmar language skills)
In all, I have never felt so humbled, inspected, or complimented before. After a wonderful meal, I shared my family photo album and we talked about both of our big families. I was served food again, this time papaya and orange juice, and moved outside to meet more extended family members who served me a traditional Myanmar snack dish (thank god I wore a stretchy skirt). At some point we finally stopped eating, Ma ma (big sister) took me inside and said she had a present for me. She handed me the most beautiful longyi (traditional Myanmar dress) that was as red as my embarrassed and sweaty face. I got changed, obviously with Ma ma’s help, and was then showed off to my adoring family. She took me down to the little shop to get slippers for my outfit then we had a photo shoot in front of her family’s orchid garden. Then she braided my hair and put “ta na kha” on my face (a clay like moisturizer/sun protectant) and by then it was time for the toto to take me back to the hotel.
Looking back on this event two weeks later, I still remember an overwhelming sense of hospitality, being asked “are you happy?” more times than I can count, my family freaking out when I walked out of the house all dressed up, and Ma ma writing in broken English that “You are a part of our family and we love you.” Finally, I remember most my sweet 6-year-old host nephew, whom I call maung lei “little brother,” telling Ma ma that he is so excited because I am like a doll for him to play with.
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