The Burmese Harp

 

Click here for a commentary on the movie by novelist Pico Iyer.

 

When I lived and worked in Burma in 1975, the Burmese people still wore their traditional longyi even as their neighbours had abandoned their saris and sarongs for Levis and miniskirts. Burma's holy men were still more revered than its rich or its famous, and in the countryside, where rice paddies were still farmed using water buffalos, it might have been the 16th century as easily as the 20th. No country left a more indelible impression on me than Burma with its 'Bama hsan-jin', the quiet, modest and cultural quality of 'Burmese-ness' which I will always remember.

I've been trying to find a copy of John Boorman's movie "Beyond Rangoon", which dramatised the 1988 pro-democracy uprising and its brutal suppression, but I couldn't find a copy on ebay in Australia. The only DVDs I could find were from the United States of America, priced at a hefty forty US dollars or more, plus a similar amount in postage.

 

"Beyond Rangoon" has become something of a cult classic among the Burmese democracy movement, but treat it as entertainment, not a history lesson. Click here for a trailer.

 

 

What I did find on YouTube was a trailer of "The Burmese Harp", a 1956 film by Japanese director Kon Ichikawa, based on a novel by Michio Takeyama. It follows the story of a Japanese soldier after his unit surrenders at the end of the Second World War. Traversing Burma, he comes in contact with the toll of war as he has a spiritual revelation about Buddhism. A staunchly anti-war movie, it is also an important work about the power of the Buddhist faith and pacifism.

 

Read it online at www.archive.org

 

And then there is the "Burma Storybook", a 2017 documentary which takes a cinematic trip across Burma to see the country through its people's eyes and poetry. Poetry has always been a source of hope and resiliency for the Burmese people, helping them to survive the military dictatorship’s total control over the country. The documentary centres around the 70-year-old activist and writer Maung Aung Pwint, as he navigates life after his imprisonment and the long-awaited return of his son returning home after two decades of political exile.

 

 

I left Burma at the end of 1975 but in my heart I never did. How I regret not having stayed longer in this wonderful and enchanting country. You never know the value of a moment until it has become a memory.

 

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Welcome to my blog!

 

 

𝕴 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖇𝖚𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖞 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖑 𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖙 𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖓𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖊𝖓[𝕬𝕿]𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖑.𝖈𝖔𝖒

 

I had to add this little preamble because something has gone wrong with the software. For some reason the side panel does not display unless I add this fixed "Welcome" post to the top. The mysteries of computers and computer software. Perhaps I should stick to playing my accordion. Last night a neighbour hammered on the door. It was already past midnight! Luckily, I was still awake and playing my accordion — I'm only joking; we live on seven acres and our only neighbour is the river.

 

Away with the PIXIE

 

PIXIE at 17 Braidwood Street, Nelligen

 

For many years I've been trying to get away to Far North Queensland where the weather is warm and the crocodiles are friendly. While with every year the urge has become more urgent, it is no longer to get somewhere where the weather is warm and the crocodiles are friendly, but somewhere where I won't have to do much grasscutting.

Not only has it been difficult to find a buyer for "Riverbend", it' has also been difficult to find the right floorplan to accommodate my extra-large collection of books. The floorplan shown below would be an ideal one:

 

 

There is a house in the village across the river — and just across the recently sold old church — which not only has the right floorplan with plenty of space for my books — in fact, twice as much space as at present — but which would also allow me to stay close to my old neighbour, the river, not from my doorstep but from a great height.

 

Floorplan of PIXIE with the book storage marked in green

 

Unfortunately, it is not for sale. Not yet, but I am waiting for it. It was for sale in August 2010 when it sold for $660,000, and again in August 2021 when it sold for $815,000. In 2010 I was still dreaming of going north for the warm weather and the friendly crocodiles; by 2021 I had already begun to adjust myself to go almost 'anywhere' as long as there wasn't much grass to cut, but somehow I wasn't quite ready yet to commit myself to a second property while "Riverbend" was still unsold.

Today I would be ready to price "Riverbend" well below market value for a quick sale, if "PIXIE" became available, even in the unlikely event of it now being put up for sale at twice the price, because — and here's an interesting fact for those who keep banging on about real estate being an unbeatable investment — the $815,000 I didn't spent in 2021 but left invested in shares have since then also more than doubled in value.

And so I keep checking realestate.com.au in the hope that it may come up for sale, in which case I would, as they say, "be away with the PIXIE".

 

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P.S. But not today! The share market giveth, and the share market taketh away, and today it took away all the gains it had given yesterday, perhaps as a belated reaction to Trump's latest folly in the Middle East.

 

Miriam Makeba brought back a myriad of memories

 

 

I've always gone to sleep with the radio on. It used to give me a sense of continuity and familiarity no matter where in the world I found myself. Howling desert winds, the noise of an unfamiliar city, or the crunching of gears of heavy dumptrucks labouring up a hill: it was all drowned out by my radio always tuned to Radio Australia or BBC World Service or my own cassette recordings.

There's nothing to be drowned out at "Riverbend" except for the sound of silence but the radio and the habit have stayed with me ever since. Last night the silence was drowned out by the sound of Miriam Makeba which brought back a myriad of memories of my time in South-West Africa (today's Namibia) and of my flat mate Karl-Heinz Herzberg who played Miriam Makeba songs all night long to drown out the howling desert winds. It was either Miriam Makiba or Marianne Faithfull's "As Tears Go By". Karl-Heinz, if you read this in Swakopmund, this is for you! (and here and here and here and here are some more memories)

 

 

Alles van die beste en groete uit "Riverbend".

 

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It's difficult to make predictions, especially about the future

 

1 Runnyford Road, Nelligen

 

The old church up on the hill has been sold again, the fourth time since it first went into private hands in 1997 and was restored to its former glory, after which it was used as a sort of glorified art gallery. The next owner, a nice lady who bought it in 2012 for $450,000, added a mezzanine floor as a bedroom, and then lived in it.

She used the vast open space for some memorable parties, some of which we attended, including a wonderful Christmas party celebrated appropriately in a former church. And there should have been many more memorable parties, but seven years later she thought the real estate market had topped and she should cash in. She found buyers at $740,000 who then rented it back to her for an undisclosed rent.

 

 

Smart move? It depends! It depends on the real estate market not going higher and the new owners not selling up again, which they just did, for $1,200,000. The nice lady not just lost her rental but also the extra $460,000 she would've made had she stayed put and sold up later.

It's difficult to make predictions, especially about the future.

 

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