Kay Du/ Kantarawaddy Times
On a breezy evening, school-age children were running around and playing along the roadside. Around the same time, housewives and children were seen fetching water. Some young adolescent girls were preparing to bathe, while others were busy with their phones.
Some men were chopping firewood in front of their homes. The way everyone cheerfully went about their daily tasks resembled little birds finding their resting places as the evening set in.
As I walked down the path where the children were playing, I caught sight of a traditional Kayah-style house built with tall stilts.
Approaching the house, I saw two elderly women dressed in traditional Kayah attire, sitting with their families, chatting and laughing heartily.
When the two elderly women spotted me holding a camera, they warmly greeted me in broken Burmese from their home.
“Are you taking photos? Please take beautiful pictures of us!” said one of the grandmothers.
They seemed to assume that I didn’t understand their local Kayah language, so they used their broken Burmese to greet me. Their warm, imperfect Burmese greetings and bright, spring-like smiles make me feel welcome in this unfamiliar land. To me, their grace and charm are undeniable.
When I replied to them in Kayah, they were momentarily stunned into silence. It was as if I had been granted entry into their cheerful circle, sharing in the joy of people who had just received something precious from those they respect.
These people are ethnic Kayah living in Somo Preh Soe Leh (Shardaw) township in Karenni State. Since February 12, 2024, revolutionary forces have fully taken control of their area, and the military junta has been driven out. As a result, the locals are visibly overjoyed and relaxed now.
However, their happiness isn’t yet complete. They still cannot return to their original homes. Even though more than a year has passed without junta troops, many remain in displacement camps because their lands are still littered with landmines and unexploded ordnance left behind by the military. On top of that, they fear potential airstrikes from the junta if they move back.
Living in the jungle and mountains does provide some measure of safety, but many hardships remain.
“Within this short time, an old woman like me has already built three houses!” joked one of the grandmothers, laughing.
Her remark reflected the reality that many IDPs (internally displaced persons) face in this region. Being forced to flee from place to place, they have to build temporary shelters again and again. Some have built more than three.
To survive, they continue farming in the mountains. The rice and paddy they harvested must be carried with them. Unfortunately, because they live in the forest, they often end up sharing their stored food with rats and birds. Some IDPs have even lost nearly all of their supplies to rats.
These grandmothers had fled two months before fighting occurred in Shardaw. Now, they have spent over a year living as displaced people.
Despite all the hardships and the losses they’ve endured, they now sit together laughing and sharing their stories with humor.
The two elderly sisters, both in their 70s, dressed in their traditional Kayah attire, now live simple lives surrounded by their children and grandchildren, though they continue to worry deeply about the danger of airstrikes from the junta.
