The baby was born in the aftermath of Myanmar’s earthquake and given to the flames of Buddhist funeral rites two days later, too young to have been named.
The child’s pregnant mother was knocked over by the force of the quake while working in a paddy field, said grandmother Khin Myo Swe, and gave birth the following day.
The baby was brought to a hospital in Mandalay to be incubated, but died on Monday.
Photo: AFP
“We are all living in hardship,” wept Khin Myo Swe as an ambulance worker gently cradled the little body before a Buddha statue decorated with flowers, then took it away to be cremated.
Three days after a 7.7-magnitude earthquake struck central Myanmar the death toll has hit 2,056, with more still buried in the remnants of ruined buildings in the nation’s second city.
Since the quake hit Friday, ambulances have been bringing the remains of the dead to the crematorium in the Kyar Ni Kan neighborhood on the outskirts of Mandalay.
Photo: AFP
‘WHAT OTHERS CANNOT’
Some 300 bodies have been delivered in total, more than 100 on Sunday alone, forcing them to work six hours beyond their usual closing time.
Some vehicles peel in with frenzied haste. A crew of men say they are bringing a 16-year-old female quake victim.
The bundle of cloth they deposit before the crematorium’s sliding metal door is much shorter than a typical teenage girl and one man retches as they bundle back in the van.
They do not speak as they leave the crematorium lot — eager to ferry her clothing home to bring her soul back to her family.
Nay Htet Lin, the head of another four-man crew who have brought in around 80 bodies since the quake, said: “On the first day of the earthquake, we helped injured people get to hospital. On the second day, we had to carry only dead bodies.”
CLEANSING FIRE
Cremation is a core tenet of the Buddhist faith, with adherents believing it frees the soul from the body and facilitates rebirth in a new life.
In some Asian cultures, those who deal with the dead are regarded as outcasts, on the margins of society.
But Nay Htet Lin said it was “noble work.”
“We are doing what other people cannot,” he said. “We will have a good next life.”
One 15-year veteran crematorium staffer had no regrets over his choice of workplace, even as he witnessed a parade of anguish.
“Everyone is coming here with their sad feelings, with their suffering,” said the 43-year-old, asking for anonymity as he was not authorized to speak to the media. “When they come here I also work for them.”
FOOD OFFERING
Much of the focus of rescue teams has been in urban Mandalay where apartment complexes have been flattened, a Buddhist religious complex eviscerated and hotels crumpled and twisted into ruins. At some disaster sites the smell of rotting bodies is unmistakable.
Khin Myo Swe’s short-lived grandchild was the 39th body delivered on Monday. She said the baby’s mother had not yet been told of her child’s death. It costs less than US$3 at free-market rates to cremate an adult in the diesel-fueled facility, and half that for an infant.
“I had to lie to my daughter, telling her I left the baby in hospital,” said Khin Myo Swe, 49.
“If I tell her now I’m worried the shock would kill her too. I will send food as an offering to the monastery for the baby’s soul.”
May 11 to May 18 The original Taichung Railway Station was long thought to have been completely razed. Opening on May 15, 1905, the one-story wooden structure soon outgrew its purpose and was replaced in 1917 by a grandiose, Western-style station. During construction on the third-generation station in 2017, workers discovered the service pit for the original station’s locomotive depot. A year later, a small wooden building on site was determined by historians to be the first stationmaster’s office, built around 1908. With these findings, the Taichung Railway Station Cultural Park now boasts that it has
Wooden houses wedged between concrete, crumbling brick facades with roofs gaping to the sky, and tiled art deco buildings down narrow alleyways: Taichung Central District’s (中區) aging architecture reveals both the allure and reality of the old downtown. From Indigenous settlement to capital under Qing Dynasty rule through to Japanese colonization, Taichung’s Central District holds a long and layered history. The bygone beauty of its streets once earned it the nickname “Little Kyoto.” Since the late eighties, however, the shifting of economic and government centers westward signaled a gradual decline in the area’s evolving fortunes. With the regeneration of the once
In February of this year the Taipei Times reported on the visit of Lienchiang County Commissioner Wang Chung-ming (王忠銘) of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) and a delegation to a lantern festival in Fuzhou’s Mawei District in Fujian Province. “Today, Mawei and Matsu jointly marked the lantern festival,” Wang was quoted as saying, adding that both sides “being of one people,” is a cause for joy. Wang was passing around a common claim of officials of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and the PRC’s allies and supporters in Taiwan — KMT and the Taiwan People’s Party — and elsewhere: Taiwan and
Even by the standards of Ukraine’s International Legion, which comprises volunteers from over 55 countries, Han has an unusual backstory. Born in Taichung, he grew up in Costa Rica — then one of Taiwan’s diplomatic allies — where a relative worked for the embassy. After attending an American international high school in San Jose, Costa Rica’s capital, Han — who prefers to use only his given name for OPSEC (operations security) reasons — moved to the US in his teens. He attended Penn State University before returning to Taiwan to work in the semiconductor industry in Kaohsiung, where he