An outline of my life
I was a small person who was welcomed by the world even when he was born.
The old grandmother, who is a blind mother, did not catch the baby that was born free from the mother’s womb. freed.
With the sound of something falling on the floor, and the sound of a baby crying loudly, I knew that the baby had been born.
Burma, the place where the world first introduced us to the pain and difficulty of even breathing the air of the world. Yangon, Thuvaand city 24 ward. Kerita Road, Kama Lane House No. 74 Room (1). 1975 AD when she fell on the floor immediately after giving birth. June (10) Tuesday in Burmese.
This is a picture of Tekkthol’s annual magazine published in the year Ne Myo Zin was born.
Born to a poor MOGE (Myanmar Oil&Gas Enterprise) clerk worker, father and a manual fryer mother, I grew up in a time of turmoil in my country. When historical events are happening, I don’t know if it’s because I was born when all the schools were closed. Schools open and close until we are aging. Still not stable.
During and shortly after my birth, there was a series of political upheavals.
When I was a little old enough to remember, my father, U Nway Zin E, was working as an oil worker in Minbu City. Kindergarten age students By the age of second grade, he was already participating in school dances and singing poems. Even a small photo record remains.
As a joke, I recited a poem at a school dance. ….. go there, Po Lamin, Go here too, Po Lamin …….. When Lamin was singing a poem, the cloth I was wearing as an adult fell off my waist when I was six years old, and my younger brother, Shwe Dom Than Lang, smiled and blushed from the stage.
Fathers, sons, and brothers were running and playing along the main road of Mann Oilfield area, where the smell of tamarind was wafting. Big sesame fields I remember seeing and playing among the rice paddies.
When I was a third grade student, I had to move back to Yangon again. I live in Room 4, House No. 178, Khuk hlin Road, Thuwunna City. Mother (16) goes to school in Thuwunna. I loved reading since I was young. At the age of four or five, Mr. Aung San poems I have already read a glimpse of the political literature of the socialist era. I think it came with instinct.
5th grade, knowing people As a child in the sixth grade, my images are full of sweat and exhaustion. Fried buns for my mother. At three o’clock in the morning, my eleven-year-old son has already woken up. over a large loaf of bread fried bean paste For my mother, who had to get up early to send fried rice cakes to moonshine shops, I would make a pot of incense oil every day. He was the one who gave me the blanket. Before going to school, I hurriedly walked along the road, the vanda trees picked the leaves, I searched for shrimp sheets with a bag. When the market is busy, the tray of bread is placed on the head. He wandered around the Thuwanda market until he ran out of bread, fried big buns, fried beans, fried Vaya, fried them and sold them. Before going to school in the afternoon while helping my mother, Kathilanta had to cut through the chaos of everyday life.
That’s why I think. I used to do whatever job I honestly needed to earn a living without being afraid. I don’t care about anything, that’s why.
As a sixth grade student, As soon as my parents, who were too poor, stopped looking at the situation, I stopped going to school. I would like to decide that I will dig the ground randomly and feed my parents. Or not happy at school. It must be because of the youthful desire to turn life upside down. I refused to go to school and looked for work without going to school. It is an act of wanting to find a way out of a young teenager’s life.
At that time, our class teacher, Daw Khin Than Nwi, came to my house and gave me a pink maternity bag, which was very valuable at that time, and flattered me to go back to school. My mother tried to force me to go back to school by telling me to go back to school because my son was not happy at school. That’s why I went to the military university in the tenth grade and became a member of the People’s Army. Therefore, to change my thoughts about education, to continue basic education, I will not forget my special gratitude to my beloved teacher, Daw Khin Than Nwqi, who even used her salary to make the student want to go back to school. But he still hasn’t visited the teacher. I remember not long ago.
I carried a heavy bag into the classroom with ease
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