Me and the teashop

This post presents a translation of a short piece by U Aung Khine about teashops, from the Magazine Mokka.

Vocabulary:

လွမ်းဆွတ် ။ to grieve tearfully
မြတ်နိုး ။ to cherish
ကြေးမုံ ။ mirror
ရွေ့လျား ။ to move
မပီဝိုးတဝါး ။ not clearly
ပလောင်း ။
ကျားဘို ။
ကြည်နူး ။ to be highly pleased
ရုံ ။ only, just
စိတ်ကြီး ။ (of nerves) to be highly-strung
အချိန်တန် ။ (of time, moment) arrive; be due
ချိုင်းထောက် ။ crutches
ချော်လဲ ။ to slip and fall
မယောင်မလည် ။ inconspicuously; in a manner not betraying concern
နာကျင် ။ to suffer
နှင့် ။ particle denoting prior action
ရော်ရွက်ဝါ ။ a yellow leaf
မွေးသဖခင် ။ father
စွန့်ခွာ ။ to leave, abandon, forsake
ကြေကွဲ ။ to grieve; feel heart-rending sorrow
ငါးမူး ။ half a kyat
အဖိုးတန် ။ valuable; precious
ပဓာန ။ the essence
စုဝေး ။ congregate, assemble
ခြေလှ​မ်း။ step, stride; footstep, stride; moves, tactics
ဆိုင် ။ face-to-face
အေးမြ ။ serene, peaceful
စီး ။ to flow
ရှေ့ဆက် ။ prefix
ရင်ဆိုင် ။ face-to-face, confront
ပြိုလဲ ။ fall over
သံဇကာ ။ metal bars
တင်းကျပ် ။ be tight, be strict or rigid (as of rules and regulations)
မြိန် ။ to relish
ခွန်အား ။ strength
အထီးကျန် ။ be alone, solitary, isolated, forsaken; loner; person without friends or companions
တမလွန် ။ next existence; future state of existence

Translation:

Me and the tea shop

Aung Khine

"A teashop with a strange name... it's called The Longing Cafe..."

I often sing the words of that song by the singer Jay Nyi Nyi. My thoughts that grieve for the teashop reach out to the Two Elephants Teashop in the Mae Sot market.

While blowing in the wind just going to the tea shop, since when and why did I come to love teashops? Ah... I think that it's because of the "Peace Teashop" that I cherished about 36 years ago.

It was a long time ago. In the sequence of my mind, I go slowly into the past layer by layer into the hazy mirror of the past.

When it's past 5 o'clock in the afternoon father will return. When father returns, trying to shuffle my bottom to the window from which he can be seen, I always look out to the road along which he will come. Oh... I think every day that if I can see father returning I will run to him and hug his neck and have him lift me up. I am satisfied just thinking this thought. When father comes for me (who is unable to move about for the whole day) I'll be able to go outside. I think that it's because I know that I'll drink tea. While eating mouthfuls of rice that mother is feeding me I repeatedly call out “Father, have your shower quickly, won’t you.” After that we will quickly go to the tea shop...

Ah... father has finished showering. When I hear the words “Son, why don't you go [with] your father to the tea shop,” I am excited in my heart. Father picks me up and when we arrive at the entrance of the fence I never forgot to say “Bye-bye Big Tiger” [to the dog]. While sitting on his shoulders the whole way along the road, while looking at as much as I can see and due to my calculation the whole long trip along the road to the tea shop is very pleasing.

Before entering the teashop the shop owner calls out from the counter “Hey, Po Pyaw has arrived...” and as I sit on a seat two cups of strong tea arrive at the table and I get excited. Before long father’s friends arrive and our group at the table gets loud. After I finish consuming one cup of tea and two snacks, although I don’t know what they’re talking about I’m really happy.

After a long time he says “let’s go back son,” and he picks me up and puts me on his shoulders. As it’s time to sleep I sleep on father’s shoulders the whole way back. [I did this] until I was five years old. It was because I could not yet walk with crutches.

One day father said to me “Son take the crutches and go to the tea shop.” Since he was walking slowly in front of me I tried hard and while leaning on [the crutches] I slipped and fell. Therefore, father asked “Son, should I carry you?” But I continued to walk as though I did not hear father, and I tried hard to walk along behind [him].

Another time, since I hurt myself from slipping and falling again, I asked father to pick me up. I was very amazed that he replied “Son... you’re a man, aren’t you? You’re already old. I’ve been picking you up for five years already. If you want to come to the tea shop continue walking. If you don’t walk, I won’t invite you.” After this time father never spoke like this again. It really affected me. However, from that day onwards I was able to walk to and from the teashop.

On another day father said “Son, do you want to come to the teashop? I'll go on ahead. You follow behind slowly,” and he left immediately. Although I considered whether or not I should follow, my two hands had already taken the crutches. It was because of the cup of tea that I liked and what father said about the big world and the conversations of father and his friends about which I was very interested. Although that was the first time I went to the teashop on my own I did not know that I would later go on my own many times.

One morning during the hot season in 1983 when the yellow leaves were falling, since I could go on my own to the teashop, were my teacher, my friends, my benefactors and my father confidently at ease? My family and I were permanently forsaken.

Father passed away and I did not go to the teashop for about a month. I thought that for me the teashop would be a sorrowful place. However, one afternoon mother gave me half a kyat and said “Go to the teashop and you’ll see your father.” Without refusing I slowly went [to the teashop]. The places to sit, the sounds that could be heard, the surroundings that could be seen, and the tea being drunk. Father’s seat was free.

However, when I arrived I felt in my heart as I did when father was there. On the road to the teashop and when I sat in the shop I repeatedly had the chance to think again of father’s form, of father’s admonishments and of father valuable lessons.

One day father’s friend Uncle U Soe Thein (the writer Maung Wuntha) and two people were sitting and Uncle suddenly asked “What did you like the most among the things your father said?” I immediately responded, “Spirit is the essence of being a good and noble man.” Uncle U Soe Thein continued saying the encouraging words: “Your father, my friend will always be beside us.”

Due to the great political storm of 8-8-88 the Peace Teashop transformed into our assembly point, our discussion place and our military front-line. Yes, was the Peace Teashop not the place at which many of my friends started walking the collective strides of our lives?

It was November 9th 1988. I was at the teashop like always. I had to flee from that Peace Teashop that I loved to “the great life university” [prison]. Within a month after my first time arriving at prison I reunited with my great teashop colleague.

Uncle U Soe Thein arrived in the cell facing mine. He said “Son, don’t be at all disheartened. I’m here. Think of me as your father,” and I had the opportunity to think that father had been unable to be at ease about me. In the morning one day two senior people of the dictatorship arrived in front of my room and said “Visitors for Aung Khine have arrived.” And I was taken to the door of the prison.

Before long I hear the sound of talking from the side and seeing the faces of my mother and siblings my grieving mother said in a serene voice “Son, here’s a strong tea from the Peace Teashop that you like.” And tears flowed down my cheek.

“The cup of tea that I myself bought from the Peace Teashop will solve for you the difficulties that you confront. Do you remember? On the night of the first time you went to the teashop with crutches, while you were sleeping your father was looking at your face and said to me, ‘I feel badly. Our son slipped and fell down twice. But I didn’t pick him up. It was in order for him to be able to walk his life’.” At the end of her words I grabbed the metal bars tightly so that I would not fall over.

The whole way back from that prison visit, although I bore much sorrow in my heart that day, the cup of tea that I was able drink was sweater and gave me more strength than any tea I had drunk in my whole life.

At 5 o’clock in the afternoon on May 8th 2011 I will sit at the little Two Elephant Teashop in the Mae Sot market at which I am expected in order to alleviate the solitude of my longing, to meet friends and to be able to seek out new experiences and new friends. And in this way I know that I will be able to see and hear father from the next life.