Aglow in Buddha's embrace

City of gold ... the temple-studded plains of Bagan. Photo: iStock


As Burma slowly opens up to the world, its spectacular, sacred monuments are on show, writes Steve Tauschke.

A land of ancient kingdoms, bejewelled temples and devout monks, Burma is besotted with Buddhism. It boasts Asia's most dedicated Buddhists with almost 90 per cent of its 45 million inhabitants observing the philosophy.

Everywhere, tangible expressions of Burmese piety and generosity can be found, most notably in the innumerable religious monuments that dot the landscape. And, as the country slowly opens up to the world and embraces a restricted form of tourism after decades of self-imposed isolation, these sacred treasures can now be experienced by visitors. A word of advice a relaxed itinerary is a must.

Holiest of Burma's Buddhist sites and a must-see for tourists is the stunning Shwedagon Pagoda, situated atop Singutarra Hill in the capital, Rangoon. Reputedly built about 500BC as a protective repository for eight locks of Buddha's hair, Shwedagon is steeped in myth and legend, dominating the city's skyline with its blazing 100-metre-tall bell-shaped stupa.

The country's most important Buddhist icon, it is plated with 60 tonnes of gold leaf and topped by a shimmering orb encrusted with more than 4000 diamonds. It is easy to understand why Rudyard Kipling dubbed Shwedagon "the winking wonder". Pilgrims are expected to pay homage here at least once in their life. With 400,000 monks and 75,000 nuns in Burma, Shwedagon can get crowded.

The temple complex is ringed by four ornate arched entrances, one of which boasts an escalator installed specifically for the former royal family. The east gate has the most colourful ambience, flanked by vendor stalls offering a multitude of monastic requisites; flowers, candles, ivory combs, ceremonial parasols and the traditional zee gwet owl-like figurines thought to bring good luck.

Strolling the wide marble terrace that rings the pagoda, I feel like I've entered a dreamy religious fairytale. Among the clusters of smaller temples, statues and pavilions, the spiritual energy is almost palpable.

I watch as maroon-robed monks gather at prayer stations to pay their respects. Following age-old rhythms, they rub meditation beads and chant Buddhism's noble truths: anicca (impermanence), dukkha (suffering) and anatta (no self, no soul, no ego).

Respected as healers, teachers and community leaders, monks of the Buddhist priesthood are known collectively as the Sangha and occupy the highest echelon in Burma's social hierarchy. Not surprisingly, the country's monks initiated and led the barefoot march of 100,000 peaceful protesters through Rangoon during 2007's pro-democracy demonstrations. Several paid with their lives at the hands of Burma's military junta. Many were imprisoned.

In a nearby prayer hall lies an eight-metre Reclining Buddha. A senior monk, Tezinda, quietly explains the posture of the deity. "Buddha is resting because he is tired from fixing all the problems in the world," he says. He offers a few words of wisdom I will never forget. "Rangoon is a British town. Mandalay is a Burmese town. Go to Mandalay there you will find L.O.V.E," he says with a sweet smile. Strange advice from a monk but then Burma is a place that keeps tossing up surprises.

Six hundred kilometres further north along the fabled road to Mandalay is the country's second city and its main monastic centre, home to more than 20,000 monks who come to study Tripitaka (Three Baskets), the canon of Buddhist literature. Surrounding Mandalay lie the remains of Sagaing, Amarapura and Mingun, all former royal capitals and now religious centres.

I opt for a visit to Mingun Paya, a one-hour journey by slow boat up the mighty Ayeyarwady River. In 1790, King Bodawpaya arrived here with 20,000 slaves and set about building what was to be the world's largest Buddhist temple. But after 25 years he ran out of money and upon his death a short time later, construction was halted and the site abandoned. Only the 50-metre stone foundation about one third of the project's intended height was completed. A few years later, in 1838, the base was further damaged by an earthquake, reducing it to partial rubble.

Fittingly, locals now refer to the monument as Patodawgyi, or 'unfinished' pagoda since the king's children steadfastly refused to release the funds to realise their father's grandiose dream. Solid to the core, the structure's immense oblong mass is roughly the area of a soccer field. 11 Its ruins are a playground for bats, children and pink-robed nuns who sit beneath parasols while puffing on cheroots. Donations of kyat to their alm bowls are met with toothy smiles.

Despite its decrepit state, the monument remains sacred to the Burmese who insist all visitors must remove their shoes and climb barefoot. Atop the paya, the bricks are hot and buckled, not the place to be without your sandals. Still, up here is to experience Burma at its most picturesque: the palm-cuffed Ayeyarwady, the thatched huts and bullock carts of the Mingun village and the gold-tipped pagodas on the surrounding plains.

Within easy reach is a purpose-built tazaung (small pavilion), resting place for the 90-tonne Mingun Bell, the largest bell in existence and intended as the paya's crowning glory. With a small log in hand, I scamper below to gong the bell for a unique surround-sound experience.

After a lunch of cow belly claypot and mango juice, I take a ferry ride south-west along the Ayeyarwady to the city-state of Bagan, considered one of the world's holiest cities along with Varanasi and Jerusalem with its 40-square-kilometre archaeological zone containing 4000 Buddhist shrines, temples and zedis.

When Theravada Buddhism was introduced into Burma by Indian traders in the 11th century, King Anawrahta was so taken with the concept it sparked a spate of pagoda-building in Bagan, formerly Pagan, that would continue for 2 ½ centuries, cementing the township as the nerve centre of ancient Burmese culture.

Eventually sacked in 1287 by Kublai Khan's Mongol armies, who destroyed all but a few thousand sandstone monuments, Bagan's heritage-listed monuments have now been beautifully restored, providing local jobs for artisans, painters and wood-carvers.

The humble bicycle is a convenient and accessible way to explore the area. Hired horse buggies are also available, as is hot air ballooning for those seeking an aerial perspective. To best soak up old Bagan's humid charm is to simply drift lazily among its monuments, marvelling at the myriad gothic, Buddhist and pyramidic-style iconography on display, no two of which are alike.

Built in about 1090, the Ananda temple is a white-washed masterpiece of early Mon architecture that houses four 10-metre standing Buddhas, each cast in gold. And if you look carefully, the facial expression of one of the deities appears to change from one of serenity to frustration. Nearby, the towering 60-metre-high Thatbyinnyu pagoda is Bagan's largest, a fabulous example of a two-storey Burmese zedi built in the 12th century.

Most important of all Bagan's temples, however, is the Shwezigon pagoda with its dazzling bell-shaped gold stupa and 37 nat (spirit) images occupying a tiny hall. The site of a pagoda festival every October, this temple contains the city's last bronze Buddha statue whose left palm is held outwards in the abhaya mudra (position), depicting no fear.

For a commanding sunset view, I climb a larger temple while leading Pied Piper-like an entourage of chirping children whose faces are smeared in thanaka, white bark paste worn as skin conditioner. As the sun slides below the horizon, we share an unforgettable panorama of pagoda silhouettes.

Leaving Bagan's treasures behind, I venture south by local bus to the fabled Golden Rock, near the Mon State town of Bago about 100 kilometres east of Rangoon. One of the country's most revered religious monuments, this remarkable balancing boulder-shrine rests precariously on a cliff-top, crowned by a small gilded stupa.

Locals know it as Kyaiktiyo, the literal Sanskrit meaning "pagoda shouldered on the head of a hermit", believing that a carefully strung lock of Buddha's hair stored in the stupa balances the four-tonne rock in place, preventing it from toppling into the valley below.

Until recently, Kyaiktiyo was off-limits to foreigners. However the Burmese Government's new push for tourism has changed that. Diesel-engine tray trucks now ferry a growing number of domestic and overseas visitors up the mountain, a rough gear-crunching ascent from Kinpun base camp nine kilometres below.

Preferring to stretch my legs, I take the "pilgrim's path", a three-hour scenic mountain trek that passes through jungle villages lined with vendors hawking animal bones, herbal elixirs and toy machine guns made of bamboo.

The climb is an arduous one so hikers are encouraged to catch their breath at the various zayats (small resthouses) given such appropriate names as Shweyin (Suffocated in the Chest) and Po-Pyan Tuang (Grandpa's Retreat). On the summit, Kyaiktiyo is bathed in the sun's golden rays, beckoning like a giant granitoid jewel.

At its base, monks with freshly shaved heads gather to recite mantras and affix gold leaf to the rock's surface so as to attain kusala (spiritual merit). It is thought by pressing leaves onto the shrine, prayers will stick.

On the surrounding terrace, I join a group of women who burn sweet-smelling incense and offer fruit to Buddha. It is here, at the end of my journey, I wonder if it would be possible to remain in Burma much longer without becoming a devotee myself. I suspect not.
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Pachyderm Party

By Lawi Weng, Photo: Taio Tyson


Each June, Karen villagers living on Thailand’s border with Burma gather to show appreciation to elephants—their friends and invaluable helpmates

SANGKHLABURI, Thailand — EVERY year for the past three years, Karen mahouts have paraded their elephants through the Thai village of Bang Mai Pattana, in Kanchanaburi Province’s Sangkhlaburi District, on Thailand’s western border with Burma.

The Karen, an ethnic group who live mainly in southern and eastern Burma, but who have also inhabited parts of Thailand for centuries, have long used elephants in their logging businesses along the border.

With a stream running through it that many working elephants use to cool off in after a hard day’s work, Bang Mai Pattana is known to locals as “Elephant Village,” making it the natural choice for hosting an annual party to honor the noble beasts.

Elephant parties are nothing new to the region, which has a long tradition of revering the animals for their service to their human masters. Extravagant celebrations were often held in the past to encourage elephants to fight in wars between the kingdoms of Thailand and Burma.

The Karen value their elephants highly, prizing them as much as they would a luxury car.
They use them not only for transporting logs, but also for carrying rice from the hills to their homes in the jungles below. But elephants are more than just the perfect all-terrain vehicle; they are also friends who work together with people as part of a team.

The day of the party also marks the beginning of the elephants’ off season, when there is less work for them to do. Since the elephants work hard the rest of the year and often have less than enough food to eat, on this day they are invited to take their fill from a nine-tiered fruit pagoda. The huge pile of watermelons, sugarcane, bananas and jackfruit provides the elephants with enough food to keep them satisfied for two days.

This year, 3,000 baht (nearly US $100) was spent on sugarcane alone.

Even after half an hour of solid eating, there is still plenty of food left on the pagoda. At this point, local children began to clamber to the top to get fruit and sugarcane to throw down to friends waiting below. The children of elephant owners have a great advantage, because they can climb up their elephants’ trunks to reach the highest levels.

At this year’s party, one young boy was especially adept. Many of his friends could be heard calling his name and pleading for pieces of fruit. After an hour, anyone who could scramble atop the platform and avoid the elephants’ trunks had free rein of the produce.

Although the event is billed as an “elephant party,” there are many attractions for people as well. Visitors can watch Thai, Mon and Karen traditional dancing and enjoy free meals from food stalls. People are often greedier than the elephants, feeding themselves with both hands while trying to catch the fruit being thrown down by the children.

Besides being fun for everyone, the elephant party also has a serious purpose. It is intended to raise awareness of elephant rights among Burma’s ethnic minorities and to maintain the strong relationship between the Thai and Karen cultures.

As a sign of respect, the organizers of the party arranged for monks too pray in front of the elephants and sprinkle holy water on their heads. Then they gave amulets to the owners, who tied them to the elephants’ front legs. The amulets are believed to protect the elephants from physical and mental illnesses.

The pagoda used to feed the elephants also attests to the belief that elephants are more than mere beasts.

The custom of erecting fruit pagodas originated in the days of the Burmese monarchy, when ceremonies were held to celebrate the birth of an elephant.

But constructing them is fast becoming a lost art. “To build the fruit pagoda, we needed a teacher,” said a party organizer. “It is very difficult to learn and not just anyone can do it.” Many are worried this custom will disappear.

Meanwhile, Thai authorities in Kanchanaburi Province were keen to maintain the spirit of the event by emphasizing its role in bringing different species—and different cultures—together.

“Elephants and humans are the same,” said one local official. “We are all the same, and we are all welcome at the party.

Elephants from Burma can also come to our festival.”

Of course, it was not all about goodwill and peace to man and elephant. There was also a commercial motive, as the elephant party was a guaranteed tourist draw.

Owners, some of them from Burma, were offered 1,000 baht to bring their elephants to the event. The party, which was traditionally held in April, was rescheduled to take place in June at the suggestion of the Tourism Authority of Thailand so that it would not compete with Songkhran, the Thai New Year. Some expressed concern that the party was little more than another opportunity to exploit the elephants for financial gain.

Despite such misgivings, however, most agreed that the elephants deserved a break from their usual routine. Unfortunately, many were not able to make it. The number of elephants in attendance dropped from 18 to 14 this year.
An organizer explained: “The four who missed the party were working—it can be a tough life for an elephant.”

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Creators of the same meaning

(Writted & Photo by Asohn Vi)
As I stood in the Maha Buddha Gaya Pagoda, I could hear the clear voice of an old woman praying from the pagoda's south end. It was not strange for me for I grew up inside Burma, but it was a little surprising, for though I stood in Thailand the prayer I heard was that of an elder Mon/Burmese.

In my community in Burma, our elders offer food to Lord Buddha and monks in the morning, then look for flowers, rest at lunch time and spend the rest of the afternoon making flower rings (Mon name). In the evening, they go to monasteries and pray. Standing there, I already knew what the old woman was doing. When I spoke with her, she told me she prays every day, unless she is sick. With ten others she prays everyday and makes an exception only four days a month.

I stood in a temple in Wangka, an ethnic Mon community that hugs the perimeter of a small inlet on Lake Vajiralongkorn, tucked high up in northwestern Kanchanaburi Province, Thailand. Across the inlet is the town of Sangkhlaburi near Three Pagodas Pass, twenty minutes to the east is Burma, an area that has seen centuries of Burmese and Mon crisscrossing over the border area. Five hours to the northwest is Bangkok.

The Wangka community was founded by the prominent Abbot Uttama in 1949 to help the Mon people who had been displaced by armed conflict and the appalling human rights conditions. They also came to Thailand to study in Thai schools. Wangka connects to Sangkhlaburi via the longest handmade wooden bridge in Thailand, the village bridge can be seen as a metaphor that is the lifeline for the Mon people. Though U Uttama passed away in October 2006, Wangka's population is now about 8,000.

A large sign-board at the gate of the village bears the words "Mon cultural village" in Thai script. Likewise, street names and other announcements are written in Thai. Although cultural images are not obviously visible on normal days in Wangka, the beat of the village life can be seen everywhere on religious days as people come and go wearing the traditional Mon dress in colors of red and white. Fridays also are important for on this day schoolchildren are permitted to shed their uniforms for their traditional clothes, and in the morning you can see more than 2,000 youngsters making their way into the classroom. Wangka is, in other words, is the place where Thailand-born-Mons and Burma-born-Mons come together.


A religious connection

Like Mon people in Burma, Wangka celebrates "Bor Kamot-Kaban." The festival is unique to Mon people, who have been holding it for at least five hundred years. The festival began in 1019-1020 in the Buddhist era. It is held to commemorate the rule of the Mon king Dhama Zaydi, who sent monks on the ships Seittara Duta and Rama Duta to develop their religious thinking in Sri Lanka. When the monks did not return, the king built a temporary ship of bamboo and paper, loaded them with one thousand offerings, and sent them a sail into the ocean, accompanied by prayers from the Mon people. Soon after Rama Duta was safely home in port and the Mon have been celebrating the day ever since. In Wangka, it was celebrated for the (fifteenth time?) on 14 September 2008.

The festival is traditionally celebrated in the monastery or near the pagoda the day before the full moon. Young boys go into the forest to cut bamboo, while young girls collect flowers and fragrant items. Community elders guide the youth and help them make umbrellas and traditional things. The monastery or pagoda is crowded with the young and old until a boat has been constructed of bamboo and ornaments prepared for its adornment. In spite of heavy rain on the traditional day, people of Wangka build an eight foot wide, eighteen foot long and ten foot tall ship in front of the pagoda. Hundreds of poles, flags, flowers and other offerings were placed on the ship as Thailand born Mons and Burma born Mons came together to exchange ideas, prayers and visions.

A gathering place

In the past, villagers worked in their gardens, grew rice, and other food staples. Today, people, young and old struggle to find work and migrate to the cities or go abroad. Few can return to their village to participate in their traditional festivals, said Mi Alanyar, who helped to organize Wangka's Bor Kamot-Kaban. This makes the festival in Thailand all the more important. "It's the time for Mons from all over to make 'merit' together. This year young people participated in the ceremonies more than ever before."

"Bor Kamot-Kaban' ceremony used to be held in Ban Kadi Mon village, near Bangkok," said Nai Kay Thit, the owner of a Bangkok-based tour company. "But now, this ceremony is held only in Wangka. This kind of Mon traditional ceremony is fading out in Thailand, but Mon people in Burma continue to hold it."

"I was born in Wangka. Everyone speaks the Mon language because of efforts by U Uttama. Mons born in this village do not identify as Thai Mons, though they are not from Burma. They identify as Wangka Mons," said Nai Sein Aung, 44, who is a member of Wangka's village administration.

"We attract visitors with our Bor Kamot-Kaban ceremony. It is a significant ceremony in Thailand, for it is held nowhere else. We are very pleased to hold this unique ceremony. In the future, we would also like to show Nyaung Yay Thoum Pwe, the festival for water consecrated and poured around a banyan tree. We would also like to hold the Nivan Zay Pwe festival, which is a festival of free food held as a communal celebration," continued Nai Sein Aung. "Neither of these festivals is seen in Thailand. We had many visitors and participants in Bor Kamo-Kaban this year. The big aim is to maintain our culture."


Building hope
Ships for Kor Kamot-Kaban are built with bamboo, colored paper, and wood. In some villages, the ship is built on wheels so that it can travel through the community, receiving donations. In other places, the ship is built on chairs and receives offering in the pagoda, but never sails. In most villages, the ships are built to float and after receiving offerings, the ships are set a sail down rivers or into lakes and oceans.

The festival is held before dawn when monks begin the ceremony by reading scripture near the ship, then offerings and prayers are received and given. In Wangka, I saw a group of boys bring huge colorful hot air balloons to the temple in trucks, then release them into the sky with the tails of small lanterns and fireworks streaming behind. In Wangka, the ship was set a sail in Lake Vajiralongkorn the next day.

All of Sangkhlaburi's monasteries, Thai and Mon alike, are invited to Wangka's festival every year. They receive offerings of food, honey and sweets, among others. I saw the new abbot, U Maha Suchat, move around the pagoda throughout the day and night until the ceremony was over.

Monks and some scholars can explain away the details of the tradition, but most people understand the festival as a time to make merit and earn some good luck. Most Mon families in Burma have at least one close relative working abroad so offering food on the ship is intended for the loved ones who work away from the family. Old tradition meets the new reality of life and the hope is that family members just like Rama Duta, will return home safely one day. In Thailand, as in Burma, the festival is a familial and communal event, an expression of Buddhist beliefs throughout cultural life. For the Wangka Mon people, it is reaching over to live with our Mon people in Burma, to show solidarity and unity, between Mons separated by time, the border, and human events.

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