Yangon Airport

“We don’t sell any wildlife meals at any restaurant in this airport” the sign says with crosses through tigers, ivory tusks and crocodiles. The sign flashes parallel to Row E. A shrivelled lady sits hunched on the check-in mat; oblivious to the obstruction this will cause. She sits cross-legged and smiles at nothing. She has a kind face. A face that has lived and seen things that I have not. I smile at her from across the path of fellow travellers boarding planes to India, Hong Kong, Singapore and China. She looks at me. She does not nod or smile or show any emotion, but I know she is kindhearted. I just know. A few times she tries to stand, but she cannot, so she resumes her seated position. I have a spare slice of fruitcake in my bag that I was given on the overnight bus. I am not going to eat it and why let it wallow in my bag, so instead, I stand up and approach her. I clasp the wrapped cake in her hand and hold it for a moment. She looks at me and says something in her native tongue. I do not understand. I smile and say “for you.” She has deep set dark eyes, with sun withered skin. She is beautiful. I walk back to my position on the floor opposite Row E. She looks at me a few times. Then check-in begins. Two security guards lift her to her feet and she looks back and retrieves her cake. She disappears into a crowd of people wearing brightly sewn skirts and harem pants.

Suddenly she grabs my arm. She squats down next to me. I look into her eyes and mine fill with tears. It’s almost as though grandma was here with me. She says things, utters things, and holds my hand tightly. I look around her and we have attracted a whole group of people. They stare at me and smile. They nod at me and mutter things between themselves. I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I give a child my watch that he was staring at. I give another little girl 1,000 kyat. Gradually people disembark. But as they queue in Row E, they look back at me and nod, and I know that is their way of saying thank you. I love the people here in Myanmar. I want to help them so desperately. The children approach me and wave and the look on their little, perfectly carved faces, when I return that wave is just insoluble. I feel beyond moved, beyond both happy and sad, beyond any emotion I have ever experienced. And these are the lucky ones.