I was brought up from a village of Myanmar; the way of life there is
very simple and ordinary. I attended primary and secondary school at my
village. We got to enjoy three months holiday every year, from March to May.
My father and mother were raised from different villages, and we were
living in my father’s village. Two villages of my father and mother are very
far, and we visited to my mother’s village during summer holiday. It had been a
great time for us to see our grandparents, cousins and all other relatives of
my mother.
Those days in 1980s, bull-carts were the only popular vehicles for the
rural families to travel around. Bicycle was another choice of vehicle, but it
could carry only two persons not the whole family. Therefore, we travelled from
my father’s village to my mother’s village by bull-cart which could accommodate
seven family members of us and some goods. Two pitiful bulls had to carry the
heavy cart occupied by seven persons and the stuff which is brought to give
presents for our grandparents and relatives.
