Three Days
Three days. 72 hours makes it sound a little longer. 4,320 minutes makes it sound a lot longer. But in reality they are all equal. It’s like a trick question that my dad used to ask me. He would say, what weighs more, a pound of feathers or a pound of gold? The first time he asked me I almost immediately replied saying a pound of gold. But the answer is in the question — they are both a pound. Three days. That is the time I have left before I leave Myanmar and begin my journey back home to New York City. Before eating rice at least three times a day is not a societal norm. Before walking down the street and having people actually smile at you. Before I return to my family, a mattress, AC and facebook. Three days before our group of sixteen will break up into sixteen smaller pieces that may never be put back together again. 72 hours, and I don’t want to waste a single second of it. While I am living in the present and making the best of the little time I have left, I do feel the need to look back and reflect, but also to look ahead.
I cannot begin to fathom the fact that I am leaving this country. I don’t think I ever even accepted the fact that I am here, in Myanmar, on the other side of the world, miles and miles away from everyone and everything I know. The fact that I left my own little world and everything I’ve ever known to come here. To forget about my world and learn about our world. I distinctly remember how I felt before leaving for this adventure — I was scared, terrified in fact, hesitant, reluctant, and doubtful. Doubtful whether or not I could do it, mentally or physically. Doubtful whether or not a girl who has lived in New York City her whole life could survive with only two pairs of pants for an entire month. Doubtful if I could live without a phone or computer, without being in constant communication. Doubtful whether I could leave everything I’ve ever known and travel to a country that I barely knew anything about with people I had never met. But with a mere 72 hours left I can say that I haven’t just survived but that I am more alive than I have ever been.
I can say confidently that this trip has been an unforgettable experience. It has changed me in ways that I am not sure I could put into words. I remember packing for the trip, sitting on the floor of my room with my mom and the packing list, making sure we had it all, that there were would be no last minute runs to get anything that we were missing. I remember how my mom asked me what books I was planning on bringing. I laughed at the thought of even packing a book — it had been years since I ever actually read one that wasn’t for a class. But with three days left and plenty of witnesses I can say that I have gone through everyone else’s books on this trip and have no idea what I am going to do without something to read for the few days ahead. But that is just one tiny change. One tiny little insignificant change compared to the rest.
It feels like a lifetime has passed since I’ve been home in the chaotic and bustling city of New York. But on the contrary it feels like a day has passed since we arrived here in Myanmar. And if that were to be true — that it has only been a day — I would say that it has been the best day of my life. I don’t think I could have gotten luckier with the group of people that I have spent the past month with. We have all grown to love one another and appreciate each other despite any differences in opinion or beliefs. I don’t want to have to think about saying goodbye to any of them but more importantly, I don’t want to have to think about saying goodbye to all of them as a group. One by one we will say goodbye to each other and we will all go back home whether home be the US, France, Belgium, China, Taiwan or Japan, and the chances of all of us seeing each other again as a group is slim to none. I truly believe that it doesn’t matter where you are — you could be anywhere in this world — but it is about who you’re with that will make something an incredible experience. People have the power to do that, to make something an unforgettable experience. An unbelievable experience. An experience that few in this world can speak about personally, an experience that only the sixteen of us will ever be able to understand.
It’s more than the dragons group as well, it is the people of Myanmar that made this trip so special and unique. It is the Pre-College Program students from the Phaung Daw Oo Monastic School, the students from the Theik Khar Institute, the people from the village of Sin Le, and the students from the Golden Lion Monestary in Shwebo. These are the people who’s faces have grown familiar. The people who’s faces have become like family. Who’s smiles and laughs have become contagious. Who’s qualities of optimism, gratefulness, hospitality, curiosity and aptitude to learn have been contagious as well and become qualities of my own. Qualities that I hope to pass on to others when I return home, the way that the people of Myanmar passed them onto me.
I have spent all sixteen years of my life in New York, disregarding the family vacations and trips to summer camp each year. Sixteen years without too much change. If one does the simple arithmetic they will know that sixteen years is 192 months. Who knew that one month would have such a great impact out of those 192. That one month has not only changed me as a person but it will have an effect on my future and the person whom I aspire to be. One month that has provided me with more knowledge than I could ever imagine. Knowledge that cannot be taught out of a textbook. One month spent with fifteen others with whom I shared every minute and can relate to the experience with. One month of eating rice, of longyi showers, of playing charades because of the language barrier. One month of trekking through monsoons, of meeting new people, of hearing new stories, and so much more.
When I return home. I have begun to associate a lot of contradicting emotions with those four words. When I return home. I am excited. Excited to share my experience and stories with my friends and family. Excited to tell them all about watching sunsets from the ancient pagodas in Bagan. About the people of Sin Le and how they taught me how to plant rice and properly ride a water buffalo. About Inle Lake and how the people there paddle their boats with their feet and travel by canals and waterways instead of highways or streets. Or about the kids at the monastery in Shwebo, of whom many are suffering from HIV, but about how they will do anything for a laugh or a smile. About the little three year-old boy who can climb up a coconut tree like a koala, or the fountain I helped build, or the adobe mud house I helped create bricks for. But despite all of my excitement to share those stories, I can’t help but feel saddened by having to say goodbye to the country where I experienced all of them. Where all of those memories were made. I am fearful of losing the new qualities I have obtained, fearful of reverting back to my old self. I am fearful of forgetting the people, the faces that have become so familiar, the children that I have learned so much from. I am fearful of forgetting the details, the small things that I wouldn’t even think to think about on a day-to-day basis. But like everything else, fears must be overcomed. And maybe, if I am lucky enough, I will be able to come back someday.
Maxine Stern
Myanmar: Development Studies & Social Transformation
