Located in the Dedaye Township, Chaung Gyi Village is just 1 out of (possibly) the 10,000 villages in the Ayeyarwady Division. Situated on the west bank of the Toe River (the river that separates the divisions of Yangon and Ayeyarwady), it is the home of approximately 485 families (or about 1,500 people). When Cyclone Nargis swept with its might in May 2008, about 15% of the population perished in the disaster. While the figures may not ranked Chaung Gyi tops in terms of casualty rates, lives and property were still lost in the process. Like a typical village in the delta, almost 95% of the houses were made by either attap or wooden planks (if the owner was slightly richer) and they were usually situated beside their fields. An concrete building might occasionally be seen at the horizon; that would usually be the village monastery (cum village hall). Served by 3 monasteries, the villagers of Chaung Gyi are pre-dominantly Buddhist.

After our friends from Yangon boarded the bumboat back for "civilisation", we were "formally" left on our own. For the next 3 days, we would stay with a family who had kindly volunteered to host us. I felt uneasy (in a way) because we had to depend on them for almost everything we require; food, drinks & a roof over our heads. But all our hosts did was to make us feel comfortable by constantly serving us snacks and weak Chinese tea (I probably drank a big flask everyday). They even fanned us when the weather was hot. At no time did anyone actually request remuneration from us.

A typical day in the village starts at 5.30am where the sun is just about to rise. We were pleasantly surprised to be woken up by the continuous (like a relay race; one family would continue once the other is done) chanting of 3 refuges and the 5 precepts. After the simple washing up (i.e. brushing teeth by the water pots), the villagers would quickly eat a simple breakfast of sticky (or glutinous) rice with some dried fish. While some of them would get ready for another day's of hard work in the fields, my volunteer (Sabi) and me prepare to explore the village, with the luxury of time of course.

As the rainy season had not yet started (usually it would start in late Jul 09), most of the le-gwin (or padi fields in Burmese) were nothing more than dried flatten cakes of mud. The work done by villagers now are primarily in preparation for the rainy season; making repairs to their huts (the roofs especially) and maintaining tools required for the cultivation season. While we walk along the narrow paths in between padi fields, we saw the village in entirety. While it looked like a wonderful place with wide open acres of spaces (none of that urban jungle feel), it must had been scary when the cyclone came. Apart from the monasteries, there were absolutely no concrete buildings where people could seek refuge. From the most remote point of the village, one (if he/she is fit) would have to run for at least 20mins to get to the nearest shelter. As we got further and further away from the village, unrepaired huts (or its frames) stood in front of us 1 year after the cyclone. We tried to imagine on what could had happened on that fateful day but it proved to be all too difficult.