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Published: February 3rd 2013
Wandering Monk
We encountered him as we drove through the fields and Kayin houses, on the way to Saddar CaveI asked Kyaw Kyaw to drive me to Saddar Cave, an hour or so from Hpa-an. It took longer to reach because every few minutes I wanted him to stop the car so I could take pictures.
Traditional Kayin houses dominate this region. Mostly made from wood with either thatched or metal roofs, the majority of these attractive structures sit high on concrete and wood piers. Below the house is storage for construction materials, vehicles, and furniture sometimes. Very large round baskets covered with mud store rice for the families. Some houses have two storage bins.
Just about every house has a carefully tended garden, some with shade structures supporting vines of pendulous squash. Dogs, cats, the occasional pig and satellite dish, a solar panel, (from China, where else?) and an outdoor well completes the picture.
Some of the rice paddies are bright green, but most lie fallow in this hot dry season.
I look forward to seeing the cave, because the guide book gushes about its immense size and features. What a surprise when we have to remove our shoes to walk through. Trepidation sets in.
The usual variety of Buddha statues greets us at
Slinky Buddha
His shape is curvy and unusual. the entrance and in the first expansive cavern.
Then we begin "the longest journey." Guide book says it's a 10 minute walk or so through the cave, but that's with shoes on. Kyaw Kyaw of course, with leather bottomed feet, walks along the rocky and uneven path with no problem. I gingerly place each footstep, trying to avoid rocks. I'm walking barefoot in a cave! Crazy, huh? I bring out my two flashlights, which help a bit in the darkness lit by a few flourescent lights.
A few minutes earlier a big group of young kids ran through, leaping like gazelles and laughing. Here I am picking my way like a real weenie, following Kyaw Kyaw who is urging me on. I keep looking for the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, but I have to walk farther. I'm so busy looking down I fail to look up at the size of the cavern. There in front of us is a really big wall of smooth stalagmite, scratched with a multitude of inscriptions.
I'm sweating like a pig, more from being nervous about injuring my tender feet than from the temperature. I'm thinking, no way
Duckies
The small lake after walking through the cave. can I walk back out of this thing. Kyaw Kyaw says I'm getting a foot massage. Not exactly.
That's not the worst part. All around and above is a tremendous squealing and squeaking and an occasional "whoosh" of bat wings. My light flashes on millions of blobs of white and yellow on the ground. I'm walking through the stuff, and my feet are feeling well fertilized.
Finally we see light, we're nearing the opposite side of the cave. A man is digging by candlelight, stacking big bags of bat guano that he says he sells for 4,000 kyat each.
We emerge into a lovely setting with a lake and waddling ducks, and flat bottomed canoes with men snoozing on them. The hordes of kids are there. They're so cute, I take their photos. They're all Kayin school children on a field trip, and they had crammed into the bed of a single pickup truck to get there.
We enjoy the lake, but already I'm dreading the walk back through the cave. But wait! Is there some kind of rescue at hand? The canoe man convinces us to get in (for 2,000 kyat) and he'll paddle us
Kayin kids
I could tell they were all dressed in their best for the school field trip. through the flooded shallow cave on the opposite side of the lake, through the paddy field, to a spot where we can walk five minutes to the car.
Hint to future travelers: take off your shoes, but carry them with you through the cave, so you'll have them after the little canoe trip.
So I say, sure, I'll pay, and we hop in. Actually, we don't hop, I crawl to the middle of the canoe. Kyaw Kyaw gets in, and off we go around the little lake, through the dark cave, and into the lovely paddy fields with limestone mountains poking through. I feel bliss. We're in a narrow canal. We notice fish nets and fish traps, a duck pen, and I wonder if there are snakes in the rice paddies waiting to slither out into the canoe. We meet another woman paddling the opposite direction. Then all too soon we pull to shore, and crawl out onto land, barefoot.
I'm thinking that this is better than walking through bat poo. It's got to be.
If I'm real careful, I think, I'll have no problem.
A man is there on shore. I get a bright
Kayin House
A typical Kayin house with thatched roof. idea. My hometown newspaper prints photos of people reading it in "far out places." So I ask Kyaw Kyaw to take my photo with the nice man, who looks at the jumble of words and photos of people in my town. As a thank you, I give him one of the pages. It has the crossword puzzle on it, so I hope he enjoys working it. Before we leave, he points out a small offering of food he left in the roots of a big tree, an offering to the nats of the tree. We say thank you in the Kayin language and continue walking along the paddy field.
We pass some people who insist on taking my photo with them. We cross a very muddy place that squishes in between my toes, and it feels as if it will swallow me if we don't keep moving. We see "scarecrows," bundles of straw waving in the air atop a stick. Along one side is a limestone wall with little caverns. A group of people is cooking a meal over an open fire. Roasted bats, rats, local greens, onions, garlic--a tasty stew.
Eventually--but more than five minutes later--we reach
the parking lot, which is totally gravelled. Kyaw Kyaw runs to get our shoes, and the Kayin children packed in the pickup laugh at my discomfort as I make my way to the car.
Kyaw Kyaw hands me a wet wipe, but it is not big enough or strong enough to remove the bat poo and rice paddy mud from my feet. That's okay--it's all part of the "foot massage."
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anonymous
non-member comment
My favorite so far:)