I held on tightly to my armrest in reaction to the efforts of pilots flying the A319 I was on as it was trying to stabilize itself over the skies of Yangon before landing. Grey clouds covered the capital of Myanmar; it was the rainy season afterall. This (incidentally) happens to be the season where young padi seedlings are being planted in the knee-submerged fields that were distributed vastly in the Irrawaddy Delta. This is also the season of hope; every farmer hopes that it will be the start of a good season. But for this year, it became the season of pain and sadness. Cyclone Nargis came on 2 May 08 and took away everything it can find; roofs, buffaloes, equipment and souls alike.

And it is precisely because of Nargis that I found myself back into Yangon after 8 years. My impression of Myanmar remains to be what I had seen 8 years ago; coupled with limited reports from the mass media. Questions ran wild in my mind. Had Yangon changed? If it has, what would it be like? Does it still look like the Sillypore in the 50s? Can I still have mohinga for breakfast?

The purpose of this (short) trip was to conduct an initial assessment (with the Buddhist society that I was affiliated to) on providing aid to the cyclone victims in the Irrawaddy Delta. While we concentrated this time on supplying first-level aid (i.e. food, blankets and daily essentials), our ultimate aim was to help them rebuild their lives by providing any necessary tools or skills. We all knew it is not going to be easy but the team were motivated enough to help as much as they can.

After dinner, we boarded our bus and braced ourselves for an overnight (and grilling) bus journey to Laputta Township, Ayeyarwady Division (this is the town where villagers from the delta get their supplies from). The road was pretty good initially but once we got out to the outskirts of Yangon, the well-paved roads that Sillyporeans are so used to became muddy paths filled with potholes. At some parts of the journey, the bus (averaging 20km/hr) was rocking like a sampan on high seas. It probably reminded us how important paved roads were. In the end, we took 12 hours (instead of 8) to reach our destination. The experience was no doubt tiring, but enriching and just plain dizzy!