The Kindness of a Stranger in Myanmar

It wasn’t until I’d left Yangon International Airport, and on my way to Mandalay, that I realised I’d left my Techcombank debit card in the ATM. Just before accessing the ATM and withdrawing local cash, I was panicked distracted by the sight of a local Burmese man in the arrivals hall. He had been referred to me by another friend in Hanoi — someone she had used as a driver cum tour guide. After having a number of Facebook Messenger conversations with this man in the weeks prior to arriving in Yangon, I had ceased communication with him, because he was pushy and I don’t like pushy. He knew my flight details because of those earlier conversations. I knew his face because social media, which was how he communicated. There he was, sitting on a bench grinning at me as I walked past. I pretended I didn’t know him and kept on walking but his presence freaked me out, hence the leaving of the card in the ATM.

Once I realised I’d left my card in the ATM, which wasn’t for a few days, I asked the concierge at my hotel in Mandalay to call the airport to see if it had been handed in. “Ms Lee, you’ll have to check at the airport. It may have been handed in to Lost Property.” There was nothing to do but wait until my return to Yangon and my flight back to Hanoi to see if my card was there. I had plenty of cash on me — and other cards — so I wasn’t in a desperate situation. And I was travelling with a friend, so if I did end up needing money, I could have borrowed from her.

Two weeks later, I was back in Yangon International Airport, ready to fly out to Hanoi. I was exhausted from enforcing my financial boundaries as a foreigner who, it was assumed, had lots of money. To be fair, in comparison to local Burmese, I did have lots of money but I felt like an ATM and I couldn’t wait to get back to Vietnam. My friend went in search of coffee and I found the Lost Property counter, explained what had happened and asked the woman manning the counter if my card had been found. “Different place,” she said. “Let me make call”. She picked up the handset and dialled, then handed the phone to me, so I could explain. Unfortunately, the man on the other end did not speak English — or not enough English — that my situation was easily explained.

A Burmese man in his mid fifties appeared from nowhere and asked me — in perfect English — if he could help. I had nothing to lose so I thanked him and told him my story, and passed the handset to him. He relayed the information — in Burmese — to the man in the different place. “They are checking,” he said to me. “We must wait. They will call back. I will wait with you.” We waited for a good fifteen minutes until the man from the different place called back. The woman handed the phone to me and I handed it to the man waiting with me. He nodded as he listened and told me: “Your card could not be located, unfortunately.” I thanked him again for trying to help me, and he gave me his business card, all blue and white and silver with details in Burmese and English. He was a seafarer — a ship’s captain to be precise — and he told me he’d travelled the world. “I know what it’s like to be stuck,” he said. “I’m glad I could help, even if the outcome wasn’t what you hoped.”

I went to find my friend, grateful that at least that one person in Myanmar didn’t treat me as way to make a quick buck.

About the #MicroMemoir2025 Challenge

After successfully completing my #12Essays2024 Challenge — by the skin of my teeth, mind you! — I’ve set myself another writing challenge for 2025. This time, my challenge is to write 62 micro memoir pieces this year because I’ll be 62. I’ve done the maths: it’s one piece every five days or so. I got the idea from Deborah Sosin’s post on Brevity, where she wrote about the 70 x 70 word micro memoir pieces she crafted to commemorate/celebrate her 70th birthday. She ended up publishing these pieces as a book. Like Deborah, I enjoy the creative constraints of writing short pieces (and I’ve had some success writing flash fiction). I’ve done a number of Craft Talks workshops on writing micro memoir, but haven’t really written any. So, self, let’s get to it. Challenge accepted, although my word count will be a tad more lenient.

Image by me, taken in Bagan on the Irrawaddy.