Tea Time

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Inle Lake, Myanmar (Photo: Julien de Salaberry on Unsplash)

 

Arkar waited. The sky, his namesake, spread gray and calm above him.

Sometimes it took Dachen a little longer to make it. No matter.

Long breaths passed. A dog barked in the distance. Children laughed, and Arkar thought of the first time he’d met Dachen. They were but boys themselves then. Dachen had just come to live with his grandparents, who lived downstream from Arkan’s childhood home. The old folk enfolded the young orphan. “Our great joy, he is, true to his name.”

Dachen was as gregarious as Arkar was shy. They balanced each other. Then and since.

A pat sounded and Arkar lifted his pole in welcome. Dachen neared and expertly swiveled his boat to face Arkar’s.

“Twelve fish today,” Dachen’s face shone. He accepted a cup from Arkar. “Two big ones here for your wife.”

Arkar smiled his thanks. For the fish. For his friend. “Tea time?”

 

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Myanmar

 

 

Not Minor

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Photo: Adi Rozen-Zvi

 

You hold on in the mountains

Where the way of life you had fled

To protect

Has become

Tied into tourists arriving:

Some to gawk

Others to try and learn a bit about

Your rich traditions,

The pain and pride,

The dignity and patient ways,

The complicated significance

Of who you are

And may wish to remain

And how it is bound into the realities

Of avenues still open to you

In a country where you are

Curios and assets,

As well as precious human beings

Full of life and memories,

And to me rare less in your numbers

Than in the profound window

You open into the uniqueness of

Each one of us

And the minority we are or can be

At any time

To some.

 

 

For the Friday Foto Fun challenge: Minorities