The Golden Land (29 page)

‘No, great-great-uncle Andrew did. I'm going to worry so much about the kids, and you . . .'

Mark walked over and wrapped his arms around her. ‘The children are going to be fine. They'll have more people watching over them than the crown jewels. Vicki said that you can't use a mobile to ring home. There's no international coverage. When you phone home on a landline, you're to give us your number and we'll call you right back. Evidently it's cheaper and easier to do that because calling from Burma isn't always reliable.'

‘I'll keep my watch on your time so I can look at it and know what you're all doing,' said Natalie, her voice muffled as he held her.

‘I think that could become very confusing,' said her husband with a smile.

Before Natalie left, Mi Mi dropped in and handed her a small package.

‘I've heard from Princess Aye Aye and she is looking forward to you coming. It is also very, very kind of you to offer to try and find my parents. Please, if it is too difficult, don't worry about it, but just in case you manage to make contact, could you give them this? It's just photos. I know they'd love to see them.'

‘Of course, Mi Mi. I'll try my best.'

‘And I know you're limited in the amount of money you can take in to Burma but, if you're not at your maximum limit, could you take this in, too, and give it to them, please?' Mi Mi handed Natalie some crisp US dollars. ‘It's only two hundred dollars, but I worry about their health and if they have enough food, especially after this awful, horrible cyclone. Nargis was the worst natural disaster to ever hit our country. You know the tidal wave washed away entire villages, cattle, houses, people. It must have been terrifying. I've heard that sometime before the cyclone struck, my parents were considering leaving Rangoon to be closer to my brother in his monastery in the delta.'

Natalie was horrified. She had no idea that Mi Mi's parents were no longer safe in Rangoon out of the path of the cyclone.

The whole world had been appalled, not just by the destruction caused by Cyclone Nargis, but by the dreadful response of the generals. Natalie had read in detail that when the cyclone had hit the delta in May nearly three million Burmese had been affected by it, and more than one hundred thousand people had been killed. Initially the generals had done nothing to help the victims, and they had refused all international relief. The French and the US had sent naval supply ships, but the paranoid junta had refused to let them land, fearing that they were the vanguard of an invasion. Even international organisations like the Red Cross were not given immediate access to the stricken area as the junta made it almost impossible for relief experts to obtain visas to enter the country. The international community was outraged. Nearly two weeks later, after a lot of pressure, especially from Burma's neighbours, the generals realised that a few bags of rice and some tarps were not going to be an adequate solution to the catastrophe and agreed to allow in international aid.

‘I'm sure everyone is fine,' said Natalie, trying to sound more optimistic than she felt. ‘Is there anything you want me to bring back? I'll take photos of course.' She wondered how she would ever be able to find Mi Mi's aged parents, or even confirm whether or not they had moved to the delta region. It seemed such a long shot.

‘A picture would be lovely. But just to know that they are all right, that's the most important thing.' Mi Mi hugged Natalie, who felt overwhelmed at the fragility she sensed in her friend who always presented such a professional and capable front to the world.

Natalie was not looking forward to saying goodbye to Charlotte and Adam, and had debated with Mark about bringing them to the airport. She finally decided to leave Andrew with a babysitter and let the others come so that they understood she was going on a plane and hadn't just disappeared.

Adam was beside himself with excitement when he saw the huge planes. It wasn't until the final moment, as Natalie was about to walk through security, when she leaned down and wrapped her arms around Charlotte to say goodbye that the little girl took in the full import of the occasion and tears began to run down her face.

‘Don't go, Mummy! Take me, too,' she wailed.

‘Darling, I won't be long. Daddy will look after you, just like I do when Daddy goes away to work. Please be a big girl and look after Adam and Daddy and especially baby Andrew for me.'

Charlotte straightened her shoulders, sniffing slightly. ‘All right, Mummy.'

Mark was holding Adam and she put her arms around them both. ‘I'll bring you all back a lovely present.'

‘Planes, look at the aeroplanes!' Adam pointed.

Mark kissed her. ‘Off you go. It's an adventure, so enjoy it!'

Charlotte clutched Mark's hand and gave a small wave. ‘Bye bye, Mummy.'

Natalie picked up her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. Inside it, she had carefully packed the kammavaca, wrapping it up in a silk scarf. ‘Be good for Daddy. I'll be back soon. Talk soon. I love you.' She threw Mark a panicked look.

‘We love you! Enjoy yourself! And don't worry!' he called.

By the time the plane was airborne, drinks had been served and she was irrevocably on her way, Natalie began to relax and a tingle of anticipation replaced her anxiety at leaving the children.

She spent the night in Singapore at a very comfortable hotel. Natalie talked to Mark and the children briefly on the phone. She was relieved that everything was running normally at home and the children seemed to be settled, although Charlotte got a little teary when the time came to say goodbye. Mark took the phone from her and was upbeat.

‘All good. I have a lot of projects planned. Jodie gave me the recipe for playdough. Truly, Nat, relax. You're going into a new world. Take it all in and don't worry about trying to contact us when you can't. Kids have no concept of time, so they're going to be fine. I'll keep them happy and occupied.'

‘All right. I love you. When you put the kids to bed, tell them Mummy loves them.'

The plane landed in Rangoon early morning. Natalie walked across the tarmac to the low, utilitarian terminal, watched by four men in military uniforms standing at the entrance. Inside, the terminal was empty save for some wooden benches, a deserted counter and several immigration officials seated behind their desks. She moved forward and a woman took her passport, glanced at her photo and flicked through the empty pages.

‘Why you come to Myanmar?' asked the unsmiling young woman.

Natalie was prepared for this question and replied, ‘I've always wanted to see the temples at Bagan.'

The girl stared at her for a moment then, as she stamped Natalie's passport, said, ‘Very beautiful place.' She signalled to the next person in the queue and Natalie quickly followed the other passengers to the baggage carousel.

More young and bored-looking soldiers watched the new arrivals pick up their luggage. There were a couple of rusty, old-fashioned luggage trolleys and, behind the glass exit wall, Natalie could see a gaggle of enthusiastic young men whom she presumed were porters. She pulled her small suitcase behind her, holding on tightly to her handbag, which she'd slung across her chest, and followed the other passengers over to the customs area. She hoped that her handbag would not be searched as she really had no idea how she would explain the kammavaca. Luckily, the customs officer only asked her to declare her money, which she did. When he had carefully counted it, he wrote something down, gave the money back and pointed to the exit. Breathing a sigh of relief, Natalie walked through.

On the other side of the exit Natalie was confronted by a crush of people, but immediately in front of her appeared a striking-looking woman, tall with dark hair and dressed in a colourful silk shirt over black linen pants.

‘
Mingalaba
, welcome. I'm Connie. How was the trip? This way, let me take your bag.' Her accent still held traces of her northern Italian roots.

‘Thanks, it's fine, lead on,' said Natalie, glad that Connie was in front of her and opening up a passage through the press of people, all of whom seemed friendly as they smiled and touted for business.

‘The car is down here.' Connie pointed further along the crowded pavement to where a man was standing by an old car. ‘This is Ko Wai Yan, and this is his taxi. Don't worry, it goes quite well. The doors won't fall off or anything like that,' said Connie as Natalie looked at the car doubtfully. It was old and battered and had ‘Sunny Super Saloon' written on its side. It wasn't a model of car she recognised and it looked very old.

‘Thank you for meeting me,' began Natalie as she settled onto the sagging back seat, wondering if the seats had any springs and what might be missing from the engine.

‘No problems. We have an arrangement with Ko Wai Yan and when we need a driver, we call him. If you need to be driven anywhere, he'll be around. So, here you are.' She smiled at Natalie.

‘I can't believe I'm here,' said Natalie. ‘It's so hot!'

‘Turn on the air conditioning,' said Connie as she leaned over and wound down the rattling window. Natalie laughed. The air rushing in was steamy.

They had left the unpaved parking lot of the airport and were now driving along a crowded road where people, bicycles, cars and pedal trishaws all jostled for space. The men and women wore longyis, some women had flowers in their hair, others had bamboo hats; children were tied to their mothers in cotton slings; toddlers perched on bicycles in front of their parents. There was a clutter of stalls and food stands along the roadside. While Natalie thought she knew what to expect, seeing Burmese street life in reality was like leaping to a different planet.

‘We'll do a Cook's tour through the city so you can get a bit of a sense of the place, and then we'll go to the studio where I live,' said Connie. ‘If you're up for it we can go to lunch, and then to the markets.'

‘I'm up for it all,' exclaimed Natalie, feeling exhilarated. ‘It's lovely of you to look after me like this. It doesn't feel so strange. But I don't want to hold you up or anything.'

‘Not at all, we enjoy showing off our little part of Yangon and Win, my husband, is very happy to have someone to stay who's visiting Burma for the first time.'

As the ‘Sunny Super Saloon' shuddered through the city, Connie pointed out areas of interest, and Natalie was shocked but enthralled by the colonial buildings that lined the broad avenues. Although they must once have been grand, now they were dilapidated and stained with city fumes and lichen. Many had broken windows, and sat behind iron railings in tangled gardens of unkempt shrubbery and overgrown trees.

‘These buildings must have been magnificent, once. Why aren't they used now?' asked Natalie.

‘Because the government decided to move the capital from Rangoon, which is now called Yangon, to Naypyidaw, over three hundred kilometres away, and the government, the military and public service all went there with it. The foreign embassies refused to budge.'

‘Yes. My friend back in Australia told me about that. It sounds crazy. I don't suppose the country can afford it, either. Oh, can we stop? I'd love to take a photo of this whole block,' said Natalie as she glimpsed some ornate buildings that looked sad in their neglect.

‘Not a good idea. The military can be very touchy about people taking photos,' said Connie. ‘Try and snap one from the car. That building's the one where Aung San Suu Kyi's father and his cabinet were assassinated.'

They drove on further and Natalie saw a beautiful lake surrounded by large residences and English trees. She thought it looked very British. Further along the wide street Connie pointed out the leafy entrance to the University of Yangon.

‘It's a good university, but it struggles.'

‘What's down there? Where the road is blocked off?' asked Natalie.

‘That's the part of University Avenue where Aung San Suu Kyi is under house arrest. No-one is allowed to go there.'

‘Oh, I see.' Natalie found it hard to believe that she had come so close to the house of the pro-democracy leader. She felt privileged but saddened that she could get no closer.

In their meandering drive across the city Natalie began to glimpse the haunted shadows of old Rangoon, rubbing against the toughness of modern Yangon.

When, unexpectedly, a huge glittering golden dome rose up from the hurly-burly of streets, Natalie gasped. ‘It's huge!'

‘It certainly is. It's the Shwedagon Pagoda and it's one of the most important pagodas in all of South East Asia. We'll take you there so that you can look at it properly. The Sule Pagoda is beautiful, too,' said Connie, leaning forward to give the driver an instruction.

Natalie was trying to absorb everything. The old buses belching fumes, the shophouses, the horsedrawn wooden carts, the swirl of people and congestion one minute and then, as the old taxi turned beneath a leafy archway, a quiet road, which, despite having no footpaths, had the elegance of a European street.

They drove into a more affluent neighbourhood made up of larger homes whose architecture was totally unfamiliar to Natalie, but she thought it attractive.

‘This is Golden Valley. Our place is down here,' said Connie as the car bumped down a rutted laneway. ‘The Australian Ambassador's residence is not far away.'

Dogs and children playing by the roadside scattered as the taxi approached. It slowed down outside a high iron fence and turned through the open gates, passed a sign that welcomed them to Peacock Studio.

The house was similar to its neighbours, though it seemed to have a larger garden. From what Natalie could see, the two-storey house was made of stone, and had large windows framed by shutters. A narrow verandah ran along the length of the house and its columns gave Natalie the impression of an Asian version of a Southern American plantation home.