Today I was skimming through the happiness report, a report done by the UN. Read the report here. I fully plan to read the whole document when I get the time. I think it is interesting to read about where people are the happiest, and why. I have to ask myself if I am happy from time to time too.
And, many of you know, I have written about happiness on the blog many times before.
Last week I wrote about the Kachin in hiding who told us that they have everything they need. It was shocking to hear that. Especially when I looked around at where they were living. Bullets holes decorated the walls. The toilets reeked. The food left much to be desired.
I met a man and a woman. They travelled for hours to meet us. At first they were shy to talk, but little by little they started sharing. They told us about their brother in law who had been brutally killed by the Burma Army just a few months ago. He had waited for church to start and went to tend his fields in the meantime. That was the last time they saw him alive. Days later they found his tortured and destroyed body hidden in a sugarcane field. A bullet hole went through his chest. He was dressed in a uniform that did not belong to him.
It was hard for them to recall the loss of a relative, a neighbor and a good friend. They knew that it could just as easily have been one of them who was caught that day.
“The Burma Army comes to our village a lot,” they told us. “When they do, we need to pick up whatever we have and run to our hide site. Sometimes we are able to bring blankets. Other times we don’t have time to bring anything.” They told us that they cannot even count how many times they have had to run. Perhaps 20 times in a year. Each time they stay in their hide site from one to three, four days. Depending on the fighting.
“It is hard to run and hide so often,” they said. “We need to put up new shelters every time. It is often cold and rainy. The mosquitos and other bugs are terrible.” They also said that it was impossible for the children to go to school now because their daily routines kept getting interrupted. “We are also not able to produce enough food,” they said. “Since we are always busy running from soldiers, we cannot work our land properly, and this makes it so we cannot get enough harvest.”
They told us their story as if it was a normal story to tell. For their people the story is nothing out of the ordinary. They have all experienced similar fates.
But for me it mattered a lot. It confirmed that I was in the right place. It confirmed that I needed to keep sharing the stories of the people in Burma, be it the Kachin, the Rohingya or any of the other ethnic groups who are currently suffering under a regime who says they have changed, but who actually have not.
What is happiness? For the man and the woman I talked to happiness would be to be allowed to live in peace in their village. It would be to grow their own food, and to keep their animals. It would be to see their children go to school. It would be to have medicine when they or anybody in their family got sick. It would be to live with the absence of fear.
They never mentioned the need for a new purse, for Botox to cover up their wrinkles, or for a car that would run a little faster. They never mentioned remodeling their homes, nor a new diet they were on. They just said they want to live in peace. For them that would be happiness.