I spent two weeks in Myanmar recently with CWBSA. Here are a few words I wrote about my experience there.
Myanmar, a land of golden temples, rice paddies and sweet-natured people. A mystical land, tucked away and relatively untouched by the Western world. There was a tangible innocence there. In a country with golden Buddha statues everywhere, it is hard to imagine anything other than peace. However, in Rakhine state where we were working, there is a darker history from generations of conflict between Buddhist and Muslim communities. From the lack of infrastructure and development compared to the rest of the country, you also see how the government has neglected the state. There are rubbish piles everywhere in the township areas, with rivers clogged with plastic. It felt like nature was suffocating, while people were working hard to survive.
The delicate dynamic between the Buddhist and Muslim community meant that we had to balance our time between both communities, although it was clear that the Muslim community were the most in need. Living in prisons disguised as villages, the Rohingya people cannot work, cannot get education, health care and are guarded by men in uniforms with guns. The children in those villages really touched our hearts. Thirsty for any stimulation, they would stand in the doorframes and peek through the holes of our bamboo training venue. There they would patiently wait for the next story, game or song and then race to teach their friends or repeat it over and over until one of the adults called to them to keep quiet.
During the training of the CFS animators and teachers in that village, two things really stood out. The first was that, when asked to remember songs, games and stories from their childhood, no one could seem to remember much. I have done this exercise all over the world and usually the participants are bursting with options to choose from. Why was it different here? Was that because they never really had a childhood? Did they not have a chance to play? Were their memories affected by lack of nutrition? Instead of animated chatter, the room was quiet.
The second thing stood out for me in a different way. One of my favourite CWBSA ‘tools’ is called Pass The Ball, a game where you start by passing an imaginary ball around the circle, which then turns into different facial expressions, emotions, actions and reactions each time you go around. It is always an uplifting game but that day the room shook with laughter and shrieks. I laughed so much it hurt. In that moment everyone in the room, Buddhist and Muslim, men and women, young and old, were united in laughter. There was no separation. It was a beautiful glimpse of the power of this work and play to release and dissolve borders.
The delicate dynamic between the Buddhist and Muslim community meant that we had to balance our time between both communities, although it was clear that the Muslim community were the most in need. Living in prisons disguised as villages, the Rohingya people cannot work, cannot get education, health care and are guarded by men in uniforms with guns. The children in those villages really touched our hearts. Thirsty for any stimulation, they would stand in the doorframes and peek through the holes of our bamboo training venue. There they would patiently wait for the next story, game or song and then race to teach their friends or repeat it over and over until one of the adults called to them to keep quiet.
During the training of the CFS animators and teachers in that village, two things really stood out. The first was that, when asked to remember songs, games and stories from their childhood, no one could seem to remember much. I have done this exercise all over the world and usually the participants are bursting with options to choose from. Why was it different here? Was that because they never really had a childhood? Did they not have a chance to play? Were their memories affected by lack of nutrition? Instead of animated chatter, the room was quiet.
The second thing stood out for me in a different way. One of my favourite CWBSA ‘tools’ is called Pass The Ball, a game where you start by passing an imaginary ball around the circle, which then turns into different facial expressions, emotions, actions and reactions each time you go around. It is always an uplifting game but that day the room shook with laughter and shrieks. I laughed so much it hurt. In that moment everyone in the room, Buddhist and Muslim, men and women, young and old, were united in laughter. There was no separation. It was a beautiful glimpse of the power of this work and play to release and dissolve borders.