It was bloody, and it was brutal, but it wasn’t my blood that was flowing, so what did it hurt me to watch it? And watch it I did, and after three or four bouts something curious happened.
I started to get into it.
Ku Min was a help, not only explaining the rules but filling me in on the fine points. And, because he was betting avidly on each bout – everybody in the place, as far as I could tell, was gambling feverishly – I had at least a vicarious stake in the outcome. He would let me know which combatant he was supporting, and I would root ardently for our guy, and groan when he took a fierce elbow to the ribs, and exult when he planted a knee in the pit of his opponent’s stomach.
It didn’t hurt, either, that we were on the winning side in all but one bout. It’s always more satisfying when your man wins, of course, but this meant that Ku Min was making a small fortune for himself. That would put him in a good mood, and I wanted him in a good mood.
The final bout ended with a bang, when our guy launched a roundhouse kick that caught the other fighter flush in the mouth, spraying blood and teeth over the ringside spectators. Ku Min collected his bets, clapped me hard on the shoulder, and steered me toward the exit.
It was my bad shoulder that he walloped, but I barely felt it.
“All you must do,” Ku Min said, “is get to Shan state. There the Shan people will help you.”
“And from there I can get to Thailand.”
“With ease,” he said. “Shan forces control the roads.”
“I thought they made peace with SLORC.”
“Peace,” he said, and spat, and grinned. We were in a tea shop, drinking Tiger beer, and spitting on the floor beside one’s table was probably not recommended by the Burmese equivalent of Miss Manners, but no one took any notice. “There is no fighting since the peace was made,” he said, “or not too much, but our Shan rebel army is still in control of the territory. They leave us alone, and we leave them alone. Someday there will be war again, but for now there is peace.”
“It’s that way everywhere.”
“Yes,” he said. “The great army of the SLORC patriots” – he paused and spat – “is still strong in the western part of the Shan state. But when you cross the Salween River you will be among friends.”
“That’s great,” I said.
“But from here to the other side of the Salween,” he said, “is a great distance.”
“I know,” I said.
“You must go north and east. There is a boat that could take you north from Rangoon to Mandalay. But I think you will not ride all the way to Mandalay. I think you will leave the boat at Bagan.”
“The old city,” I said, “with all the ruined pagodas.”
“Yes. I could get you on the boat. It is a cargo boat, you understand. The passenger boats on the Irriwaddy are forbidden to tourists.”
“Why?”
“No one knows. They just tell you that you would not like it.”
“Ah,” I said. “An-ah-deh.”
“Yes, an-ah-deh. But you will be on a cargo boat, hidden in a load of goods bound for Mandalay. But when you leave the boat at Bagan, how will you make your way eastward?”
“It’s a long way to the Salween.”
“You would need to get to Kalaw,” he said, “or to Taunggyi, the capital of the province. People there would help you. But from Bagan to Taunggyi-”
“How far is that?”
“Perhaps two hundred and fifty kilometers.”
Say a hundred and fifty miles. It would take a week to walk it. Longer if the terrain was rough and the weather adverse. Longer still if I got lost along the way.
“But to walk the road without papers, a foreigner in Myanmar-”
“And a wanted man,” I said. “A fugitive.”
“Yes. Government troops patrol those roads, Evan. They would insist on seeing your papers.”
I drank some beer straight from the bottle. I pointed to a man passing in front of the tea shop window. It may have been bad manners to point, but at least I used my hand. I didn’t point with my foot. I knew better.
I said, “I bet the patriotic government forces” – I spat – “would not ask him for papers.”
“But he is not a Westerner, Evan!”
“How do you know?”
“But look at him! He is-”
“I know what he is,” I said. “At least I know what he looks like.”
Ku Min looked at me.
“Clothes make the man,” I said. “Do they have that expression over here? Probably not, in the land of the longyi. But you see what I’m driving at, don’t you?”
Chapter 16
“You are truly determined to leave Burma.”
“Vanya, I would do anything to get out!”
“It will be dangerous.”
“I do not care.”
“And there will be hardships. It will not be an easy journey, or a comfortable one.”
“It does not matter.”
“And we will have to travel light.”
“That is the best way, Evan.”
“Very light,” I said. “You will have to leave everything behind.”
“So? You know my family history. Every generation has left everything behind and fled one country to start anew in another.”
And every generation, I thought, has managed to choose the wrong side.
“Besides,” she said, “look around you, Evan. What is there that I would regret losing? I have nothing. You think it will sadden me to leave these four walls? Or these ragged clothes? Or anything else in my possession?”
“We’ll really be traveling light,” I said. “You’ll have to leave more than that.”
“But I have nothing else! Evan, tell me what else I have to leave. I will be delighted to leave it, but there is nothing else that I own.”
I looked at that beautiful face, that rich and exotic blend of East and West. Kipling was proven wrong; East was East and West was West, but the twain met spectacularly in those high cheekbones, that arch of brow, those almond-shaped eyes, that luxurious curtain of straight blond hair.
“This,” I said, reaching to touch her hair. “I’m afraid it has to go.”
“You think,” she said, wielding the scissors savagely, “that because I am a woman I am overly concerned with my appearance.” Snip! Snip! “But I do not care about superficial things.” Snip! Snip! “Hair is just hair. You cut it off and it grows back.” Snip! Snip! Snip! “It is true I like my hair” – Snip! – “and perhaps I take some pride in it” – Snip! Snip! – “but it is a small sacrifice if it will get me out of this godforsaken country” – Snip! – “and give me a chance at a new life!” Snip!
“That’s great,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Because I was a little worried. I know hair’s a big deal for women.”
“And not for men?”
“Not in the same way. We worry about losing it, but we don’t care what it looks like. We don’t even mind cutting it all off so long as we know it’ll grow back.”
“And you will not mind shaving off all of yours now?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then neither will I.” Snip! “There, Evan. I think that is as much as I can get off with the scissors.” She ran her hand through the mound of hair on the floor in front of her. “Well? You are the one who will have to look at me. How does it look?”
All she needed was a safety pin through her cheek and she could pass for a punk rock star. “It looks unfinished,” I said, “and it’ll be better when I’ve shaved it all off. But it’s not so bad.” I nodded at the mirror. “Have a look for yourself.”
“Why not? It is just hair. It is not important, it will surely grow back.” Then she fell silent as she looked in the mirror.
Then she burst into tears.
Her hair was fine and soft, and offered little resistance to the razor. When I’d finished, she looked again into the mirror, and for a long moment she was silent.