“These huts are used during the fishing season [monsoon] when the rivers are in flood and big fish enter the deep water. While the men fished with long poles and nets, the women cleaned and salted the fish drying them on bamboo racks. In the hot Burmese sun, salted fish dries in a matter of hours. We all loved a species of river fish known as ‘butter-fish’ because the flesh was white and it carried few bones; butter in Burma is white in colour. This fish made excellent Burmese curry.
“The following morning, we were up early as the hut seemed about to collapse. We continued travelling along the riverbank collecting edible plants and digging for tubers which we kept for our main evening meal. Every now and then your grandmother checked the shallows for tiny fish fry; she was an expert at catching these small fish using the hem of her dress. In a pan coated in oil, these small fry would cook themselves if left in the hot sun. When my mother wanted to light a fire in the evening, she poured some river water on the hard ground and dug a small pit in the earth with the big Burmese dah. Then she would build the sides up with the damp earth she had dug out; this would hide most of the flames at night from anyone passing and increase the heat. We used the deep Indian metal pot that my mother had picked up for all our cooking. My mother was a wonderful cook.
“Evening came but we were not so lucky in finding a place to sleep and had to spend the night on a ledge created by the collapse of the riverbank – but at least we were hidden from view. Mother cut some cactus fronds and placed them in front of our sleeping place for protection. After cooking our meal we settled down on the hard ground wrapped in blankets. With our backs to the riverbank we listened to the jackals calling and watched the last of the sun’s rays slowly sinking behind the trees. Soon it was totally dark. We could hear loud splashes in the river; Mother said it was probably large catfish.
“That night I didn’t sleep a wink, in the far distant hills we could hear wild elephants trumpeting. We spoke in whispers. I spent most of the night looking up at the starry constellations. You were wrapped in my woollen shawl. We always waited for the sun to warm us before getting up. After walking several miles we came across another fisherman’s hut which was strongly built and stable. We could move around in it without fear of it collapsing and decided to stay for a few days to rest. We were so tired having gone without a good night’s sleep since we left Taunggyi.
“Here the river was very shallow and full of small fish; my mother began catching them immediately. She used to kneel very still in the shallows with her back to the sun and a few grains of cooked rice in the hem of her dress. The little fish were attracted by the food and sheltered in her shadow. Slowly she would lift the hem of her dress and catch them.
“In the cool of the morning and late afternoon we foraged for food along the river bank. My mother recognised the leaves of a tuber called per-sin-zar-ou; we knew them as sweet water potatoes. The shrivelled leaves indicated that the fat sweet tubers were hidden underground. The only river turtle’s nests we came across were out of reach to us in the middle of the river on a sandbank. They had already been found and dug up by monitor lizards or wild pigs. I was terrified of big monitor lizards, which hissed aggressively if you approached them.
“The next morning we were woken up by the sound of dogs fighting. Looking through the gaps in the fisherman’s hut, we saw a large pack of dogs drinking from the river. They looked feral. As hungry as we were we waited for the dogs to move on before leaving the hut to forage. That afternoon my mother lit a fire and cooked a meal of small fish and gram [chickpeas]. We were about to eat when the pack of dogs suddenly reappeared and watched us – they would not go away despite us swearing at them in Burmese. Instead the dogs became bolder and growled when we threw sticks at them. We had no choice but to take our food up the ladder and into the hut where you were fast asleep. Some of the dogs tried to follow unsuccessfully. The dogs left just before darkness fell. My Mother said dogs did not like to be in the jungle at night because of leopards. From then on we were always watchful in case the dogs returned; although we could hear them barking in the distance, they did not come back to the hut again. We had not seen the last of this pack of feral dogs.
“Dogs had a symbiotic relationship with the villagers; they were the sanitary inspectors and gave good warning of strangers, predators or snakes entering or approaching the village. In return they were allowed shelter under the huts. Only occasionally were they fed scraps of offal. Venomous snakes killed in the village were also given to them. The Burmese, a very superstitious race, believed that village dogs also gave warning of evil spirits. In most cases when the village dogs barked at night hysterically, it was probably a leopard or a snake and not an evil spirit. It is said that Indian cat-burglars often covered their bodies with leopard fat to frighten off dogs. Like the Japanese, the Burmese never touched dogs and considered them unhygienic. Dog meat however was greatly prized by the Chinese, Vietnamese and Koreans. They preferred it to beef. This was another reason the Japanese and the Burmese looked down on the conscripted Korean soldiers in the Japanese army.
“When the retreating Chinese Army appeared and began shooting the village dogs for food; a few of them escaped into the jungle. The starving Chinese soldiers were quickly followed by the Japanese (not dog lovers) who always took great pleasure in shooting or bayoneting the village pi-dogs. Quick to learn, these dogs left the villages and formed large packs that hunted the escaped livestock also roaming the countryside at this time. These dogs like the water buffalo, were a potential danger to Europeans.
“This was the dry season and the river was shallow, but to be near any running water was a blessing. We now looked like down-and-outs – raga-muffins, our clothes were tattered and worn and our footwear would soon be useless. The money we had was to buy food, not clothes.
“Your grandmother and I used to wade out to about one or two feet of clear water to bathe, but only where we could see the sandy bottom. I was always afraid of crocodiles and pythons that lurked in the shallows of rivers and jungle pools.”
“Have you ever seen a crocodile or a python in the wild, Mum?” I would sometimes ask out of interest.
“’No, only at Rangoon zoo, but my brothers used to shoot pythons on the Irrawaddy. Large pythons were a danger to their retrieving dogs. My brothers always carried their rifles with them, even on picnics.’
“One morning while walking along the riverbank searching for drift wood, I saw ahead of me on a sandbank what looked like a long piece of coloured material flapping in the breeze. As I got nearer, I found it was the skin of a very large python. Pythons, it is said, are especially dangerous after shedding their skin. I quickly ran back to the hut in case the snake was still in the vicinity.”
Strangely Mother was not fazed by big E-type spiders (mygalomorph). These large arachnids would suddenly blossom aggressively out of their burrows if a foot accidentally touched an invisible trip line at the entrance. They would then raise their thick forelegs and present their long fangs in threat. Mother would pin the large arachnid down from behind with a stick, folding one leg from either side of its thorax and holding them in her fingers, then quickly throw it into the bushes. In Johore Baru after the war, when one found its way into the house, Mum would throw it out of the window, sometimes she had hardly turned her back when the determined arachnid would climb back up again, and glare at her from the window sill.
“Kill it, Mum – kill it, Mum!” I would scream – jumping up and down – like a demented goblin. I still don’t do large spiders.
“No, son,” she would say softly with a smile, “poor thing.” She would then repeat the processes despite the fact that these spiders, after being molested, are very willing to bite. These large spiders are a favourite food source of the Khmer people.
“We were fortunate to find different edible plants and crops on the riverbank during our foraging trips including peanuts which we had to dig up. Despite the variety of vegetables that we foraged, I still craved meat and used to dream of
all the different meat dishes we used to have every night at home. Savoy grill for breakfast, lunch at one, Tiffin at four and dinner at nine. Most of these mealtimes include meat in the form of pork, lamb cutlets, chicken, partridge, wild duck, snipe and beef. How I now regretted leaving some of that delicious food on my plate.
“There were some large crabs in the river but they were too quick for us and scuttled into deep murky water where we were afraid to follow. We stopped at this fisherman’s hut for several days bathing in the morning and in the afternoon before eating what we had found. As food was now getting difficult to find in this area we were forced to move on. We continued our journey along the riverbank and came to a very large area of tall elephant grass. My mother said it would be too dangerous to follow the path through it. We were forced to make a detour around the edge and after a while found ourselves back in scrub jungle near a village that had been destroyed by the Chinese Army. There was a strange smell that hung over this village and several burnt bodies lay by the water well. We moved on quickly fearing that the well may have been contaminated by the Chinese.
“Continuing, we ended up in old paddy fields and walked along the bunds that divided them. The earth was cracked and dry and difficult to walk over in our worn out shoes. After walking about an hour, we could see in the far distance a cattle-patti [cattle station] and hoped to reach it before nightfall. Unfortunately night fell quickly and we had no option but to stop and wait for the dark hour to pass. My mother and I sat back to back on the waterproof ground sheet while covering ourselves with the two blankets. You were always tired after a long day and soon went to sleep in my lap.
“When the moon came up we could see just as clearly as daylight, you could read a book in strong moonlight. The river below us looked like a silver ribbon. When the moon rose higher we began to walk to the cattle-patti, it was now lovely and cool. For some reason something made me turn around; silently following us was the large pack of dogs. We tried to frighten them away but they would not leave; when we stopped they stopped. Suddenly we heard guttural voices. Without realizing it, we were now near the bullock track again, which must have run parallel to the river. We stood still and waited. The pack of dogs suddenly disappeared.
“Thank God you were fast asleep in the sling I had made for you on my back. We could see lights flashing. The only people who would move at night were Japanese soldiers. For a moment we stood frozen till the voices faded in the distance. Turning, we began heading back towards the river. After some time we came to a high bund; climbing over it we sat down and fell asleep listening to the ‘did you do it’ birds [plovers].”
Mum used to tell me these birds slept on their backs with their legs in the air – to stop the sky falling on them.
“The following morning, we left early as we were still near the bullock track. We reached the riverbank beyond the elephant grass and waded into the river for a quick wash but moved on as there was no tree cover on our side of the bank.
“Occasionally we saw people in the distance on the far bank of the river and one day came across fresh cloven hoof footprints in the sand made by Japanese soldiers. They had forded the river some time earlier that morning. Thank God they didn’t follow the riverbank!
“We travelled along the river without incident for several days, sleeping in places that offered cover and shade. Then one day while washing and collecting water to drink, several indistinguishable shapes floated passed in the water. After closer scrutiny my mother exclaimed ‘My God, Kate – they are human bodies! Covered in tiger prawns – they’re eating them!’ These bodies had limbs missing. It was impossible to know their nationality. I felt sick to my stomach to think that we had been drinking and washing in water that had flowed over dead bodies. I never ate tiger prawns again.
“Continuing cautiously along the bank, we came upon several more bodies in the river. Then we saw smoke on the horizon. Mother said we should not follow the river anymore.
“That night we slept under lantana bushes away from the river, but were forced back to the river to get water the following morning. The dead bodies had disappeared. We boiled the water. It still tasted terrible.
“My mother wanted to bypass what looked like a village ahead, but the thought of finding pure clean water made me beg her to seek out a well. Cautiously approaching through the scrub, to our surprise we came across large Godowns (warehouses) and a row of bungalows. We later found out this small town was called Yu. It was a hive of activity: looting! Burmese villagers, mostly women and children, were looting the warehouses near the river. My mother greeted them politely in rural Burmese but apart from some quick looks in our direction they did not trouble us. Our priority was to find a well, which we soon located behind the row of small brick bungalows. It was so nice to drink clean fresh water again. As usual all the bungalows had been picked bare, all doors and windows had been taken away. We entered one of the bungalows and watched as many loaded bullock carts left Yu while empty bullock carts were arriving. My mother called out in Burmese to an old woman walking behind a bullock cart. ‘What is happening, wise grandmother?’
“’The Chinese merchants have run away,’ the old woman answered, ‘they set fire to the buildings – we put the fires out. We are now helping ourselves.’ After a quick rest we began looking behind the dwellings that once belonged to the Chinese workers. Inside each of these bungalows we found a traditional mud and brick fireplace. A heavy smell of Chinese incense and aniseed hung in the air. Every back garden contained neat lines of vegetables. My mother insisted we thoroughly wash these vegetables as they would be infected with human liver fluke eggs. Most Chinese of that time were infected with liver flukes because they used human manure. The Chinese are a clean race, but their habit of eating partially cooked vegetables put them at risk of infection. My mother picked one of the better small bungalows and we settled in, we were so tired. The Burmese villagers were far too busy helping themselves from the Chinese Godowns to worry about us.
“After resting I went poking around and found the best find of all, an old pram. For some reason the pram was full of earth. I quickly cleaned it out, hoping there was nothing nasty buried in it. This wonderful find could carry you and our few possessions. The pram was old, deep and had hard tyres that squeaked. Your grandmother was delighted and put cooking oil on the wheels to stop them squeaking, then headed towards the warehouses. I stayed behind and looked after you.
“After a while I became concerned at my mother’s long absence, we could not survive without her! My mother soon reappeared, red-faced and sweating. The pram was full to the brim with small bags of rice that had red Chinese characters written on them.
“’I am going back’ said my mother ‘we have to get all we can – there is so much left – we will have to hide everything.’
“’I want to come – I am afraid waiting here,’ I told my mother. We all set off to join the other freeloaders; I felt so guilty that we were stealing. On reaching the warehouses I saw Burmese of all ages enjoying this family day out of looting from an old enemy.”
It was here where one of my first distant memories kicks in. There was a large pile of white sugar in the open. I joined all the other young Burmese children trying to run up this pile of shifting sweetness. We naked children stopped occasionally to bend down and lick the sugar.
“Tins of Lyle’s golden syrup were scattered everywhere. The picture of the dead lion surrounded by bees always fascinated you: ‘Out of the strong came forth sweetness’ was the legend around the picture. I always had to convince you that the dead lion was surrounded by bees and not flies. That picture, which looks exactly the same today, and the picture on the gripe water bottle depicting a baby holding a snake were your only storybooks. This syrup is one of the secret weapons of Chinese cookery even now. For some reason the Burmese looters were ignoring this product as a food stuff or sweetener; they all preferred the many sacks of jaggery (lumps of brown sugar) stored in the warehouses. They had found another pract
ical use for Golden Syrup; it was great for lubricating the wheels on their bullock carts, as grease was in short supply. We took at least half a dozen tins. My mother could not resist loading up another three small sacks of good quality rice.
“On several occasions some of the women looters asked my mother what some of the labels said in English, or why she was taking them. She pretended not to know saying only that she liked the colourful labels.
“Free running salt was a valuable commodity in rural Burma at that time and my mother took several small bags. Salt usually came in big lumps or blocks and you had to break it with mortar and pestle. We also took a big tin of cooking oil and several small bags of dried shrimp. Dried shrimp can be used in many ways, is a good sauce of protein and lasts for months. Balachaung (a relish) and henjo (vegetable stew) were a favourite of the Japanese front line troops. The Japanese army issued dried shrimp and dried eels (I did not like dried eels – they were slimy) as hard rations, together with a 24lb bag of rice which they had to carry themselves.”
Before the invasion of Burma, Japanese agents made a precise study of wild food in the country with the help of Burmese villagers as their soldiers were expected to live off the land.
“We hid most of our loot in a large empty warehouse nearby under piles of empty gunny sacks and only kept enough food for our daily needs. We did not wish to be caught stealing especially by the Japanese who had written in their leaflets that looting was forbidden. When I think about it we were in such a dangerous position staying there.
Escape to Pagan Page 11