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Authors: Jan-Philipp Sendker
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led to the city center. I followed it and walked past a school with children’s voices spilling out the open windows.
And then I discovered U Ba. I recognized him from a distance. I knew him by his gait, by the slight spring inhis step. By the way he held up his longyi a little with his right hand in order to be able to walk more quickly. He was walking in the street and coming right toward me. I felt my heart race. Every ounce of me remembered.
My eyes welled up with tears. I swallowed, pressed my lips firmly together. Where had I been so long? Why had I never given in to my longing for U Ba, for Kalaw? How hard it is to follow one’s heart. Whose life had I been leading these past ten years?
He looked up and spotted me. We both slowed our steps. Paused briefly, then continued on until we stood face-to-face.
One of us tall, the other short. One of us not so young anymore, the other not yet so old. Brother and sister.
I wanted to hug him, to press him to me, but my body would not obey. It was U Ba who broke the tension. He took one small last step toward me, stretched out his arms, took my face gingerly in his hands. Looked at me out of tired, exhausted eyes. I saw how they turned wet. How they filled, drop by drop, until they overflowed.
His lips were quivering.
“I took my time,” I whispered.
“You did. Forgive me for not meeting you at the airport.”
“U Ba! You didn’t even know I was coming.”
“No?” A smile, just a brief one.
I put my arms around him. He stood on tiptoes and put his head on my shoulder for a moment.
Some dreams are big. Some small.
“Where are your things?”
“At the hotel.”
“Then we must fetch them later. You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”
I thought of his hut. I thought of the swarm of bees, of the sagging couch, of the pig under the house. “I don’t know. I would hate to be a burden.”
“A burden? Julia, it would be an honor.” He faltered briefly and then continued quietly and with a wink: “Aside from the fact that the people of Kalaw would never speak to me again if they heard that I made my sister stay in a hotel after she had traveled around the world to visit me. Out of the question.”
U Ba took my arm in his and led me back in the direction he had come from. “For a start, let’s go drink some tea and have a bite to eat. You must be hungry from your long trip, no? Do they give you anything at all to eat in those airplanes?”
We crossed the street and made for a restaurant. It had a large patio with umbrellas, low tables, and tiny stools, and it was very full. We sat under an umbrella at the last free table. My knees stuck up above the table.
Beside us sat two women in animated conversation, on the other side two soldiers in green uniforms. U Ba greeted them with a quick nod.
“This establishment belongs to the same people who owned the teahouse where we first met,” he said, coughing.
I thought of the shabby old shack with its dusty floorand greasy display cases full of fly-ridden pastries and rice cakes. “It’s a big improvement.”
“You brought them luck,” replied U Ba, beaming at me.
My brother observed me for a long time without saying a word. The tea came in two espresso cups. There was a dead insect floating in mine. “Oh, so sorry,” said the waitress when I pointed it out to her. She took a little spoon, fished the creature out of the tea, and tossed it over the railing. I was too surprised to say anything, and she shuffled off.
“Would you like a new one?” asked U Ba.
I nodded.
He deftly swapped our cups.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, embarrassed.
The tea had a very distinctive flavor that I had only ever encountered in Burma. Very strong, a hint of bitterness, overlain by sweetened condensed milk.
U Ba sipped at his tea without taking his eyes off me. It was not a gaze intended to provoke. Not an evaluation, an analysis or examination. It simply rested on me. I found it unsettling all the same.
And then I discovered U Ba. I recognized him from a distance. I knew him by his gait, by the slight spring inhis step. By the way he held up his longyi a little with his right hand in order to be able to walk more quickly. He was walking in the street and coming right toward me. I felt my heart race. Every ounce of me remembered.
My eyes welled up with tears. I swallowed, pressed my lips firmly together. Where had I been so long? Why had I never given in to my longing for U Ba, for Kalaw? How hard it is to follow one’s heart. Whose life had I been leading these past ten years?
He looked up and spotted me. We both slowed our steps. Paused briefly, then continued on until we stood face-to-face.
One of us tall, the other short. One of us not so young anymore, the other not yet so old. Brother and sister.
I wanted to hug him, to press him to me, but my body would not obey. It was U Ba who broke the tension. He took one small last step toward me, stretched out his arms, took my face gingerly in his hands. Looked at me out of tired, exhausted eyes. I saw how they turned wet. How they filled, drop by drop, until they overflowed.
His lips were quivering.
“I took my time,” I whispered.
“You did. Forgive me for not meeting you at the airport.”
“U Ba! You didn’t even know I was coming.”
“No?” A smile, just a brief one.
I put my arms around him. He stood on tiptoes and put his head on my shoulder for a moment.
Some dreams are big. Some small.
“Where are your things?”
“At the hotel.”
“Then we must fetch them later. You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”
I thought of his hut. I thought of the swarm of bees, of the sagging couch, of the pig under the house. “I don’t know. I would hate to be a burden.”
“A burden? Julia, it would be an honor.” He faltered briefly and then continued quietly and with a wink: “Aside from the fact that the people of Kalaw would never speak to me again if they heard that I made my sister stay in a hotel after she had traveled around the world to visit me. Out of the question.”
U Ba took my arm in his and led me back in the direction he had come from. “For a start, let’s go drink some tea and have a bite to eat. You must be hungry from your long trip, no? Do they give you anything at all to eat in those airplanes?”
We crossed the street and made for a restaurant. It had a large patio with umbrellas, low tables, and tiny stools, and it was very full. We sat under an umbrella at the last free table. My knees stuck up above the table.
Beside us sat two women in animated conversation, on the other side two soldiers in green uniforms. U Ba greeted them with a quick nod.
“This establishment belongs to the same people who owned the teahouse where we first met,” he said, coughing.
I thought of the shabby old shack with its dusty floorand greasy display cases full of fly-ridden pastries and rice cakes. “It’s a big improvement.”
“You brought them luck,” replied U Ba, beaming at me.
My brother observed me for a long time without saying a word. The tea came in two espresso cups. There was a dead insect floating in mine. “Oh, so sorry,” said the waitress when I pointed it out to her. She took a little spoon, fished the creature out of the tea, and tossed it over the railing. I was too surprised to say anything, and she shuffled off.
“Would you like a new one?” asked U Ba.
I nodded.
He deftly swapped our cups.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, embarrassed.
The tea had a very distinctive flavor that I had only ever encountered in Burma. Very strong, a hint of bitterness, overlain by sweetened condensed milk.
U Ba sipped at his tea without taking his eyes off me. It was not a gaze intended to provoke. Not an evaluation, an analysis or examination. It simply rested on me. I found it unsettling all the same.
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