Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
Excitement tinged with apprehension surged through me as my long planned destination came into view. Miles and hours of rice fields, tall green sugar grasses and water buffalo slowly gave way to dusty roads traversed by many more bicycles than trucks piled perilously high with produce, people and farm animals. As we slowed, happy smiling children ran alongside offering food and trinkets for sale through the open window.
‘Do you want to go to passport office’? he asked. Silently out of nowhere and standing beside me was a young muscular man, brown skin gleaming in the hot, sticky air. Glancing along the crowded carriage I could see other young men shimmying agilely through the windows, alighting next to weary travellers who had endured the slowest of night trains.
I looked back at this man. His green and blue striped longi was gathered in a twist at his navel, dark bare feet splayed broadly out below. His black hair was wet from the early morning heat and exertion, his dark eyes sparkling. Grinning largely he extended his hand and nodded at me to take his tatty note book. ‘Please look quickly’, he said. His book was crammed with faded polaroid photographs of him alongside others, comments written in pencil and faded colored inks. By all accounts this man was friendly, knew the best places to go and had great local knowledge. I didn’t need to read them all to get the gist – here beside me stood Zaw Zaw who would cheerfully attend to anything I wanted while I was here.
Throughout the carriage tourists were looking at similar books as other young men solicited their work for the next couple of days. ‘I can be your tour guide’ said Zaw Zaw, ‘but first I must take you to passport office’. ‘Do I need to go there?’ I asked. ‘You must’, he replied earnestly, ‘all tourists must report to passport office for registration as soon as they arrive. It’s at the Mandalay hotel, I have rickshaw and will take you there’.
As the train slowed to stop, Zaw Zaw leaned in close towards me. ‘I must go now, I will see you at your bags’ he whispered conspiratorially, his breath hot in my ear. As quickly as he had appeared, he moved to the open window, turned to face me and swung himself out and upwards to an outstretched arm. He dazzled one more infectious grin at me and I watched as his feet disappeared upwards onto the roof of the train.
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