Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

SAVING FISH FROM DROWNING
did this only because it was part of the itinerary required by the gov­
ernment’s efforts to infuse a little capital into local businesses. But
Lulu had also seen the look of disappointment in many tourists’ eyes
once they reached central Ruili. Most had added the visit to their
itinerary only so they might say they had stuck a toe into Myanmar.
In fact, there was a white wooden post on the outskirts of the town
where you could stand with one half of your body in China and the
other half in Myanmar. You did not need special permission to do
this. So without going into Myanmar, you could claim you had been
there. This tourist spot was where Lulu had been called upon a hun­
dred times to take a picture. Usually her clients stood in contorted
poses, legs in China, head and shoulders in Myanmar, or a couple
might divide up and face each other from their respective chosen
country, and stare at each other with binoculars from six inches
apart.
“Look at that,” she would tell each busload of tourists, pointing
to a small house nearby. “There one family lives, kitchen is in China,
bedroom is in Myanmar. In this way, this family eats in one country,
sleeps in other. I think this house been standing there for many cen­
turies, yes, long time, before anyone decided where one country
stops, the other starts.”
Dwight, still gray in the face, looked at the surrounding land­
scape. He pictured it as it might have been more than a hundred years
earlier, when his great-great-grandfather had come to this part of the
world. Perhaps he, too, had entered Burma via the silk route and had
passed this way station. Back then, it must have been a beautiful out­
post of green mountains and rainforests, ambling waterways and
profuse wildflowers, unmarred by barriers and signs.
I, too, could imagine it. By virtue of its geographical fates—the
lucky juxtaposition of a river between two countries—this was a
natural stopping point for thinking about what you were moving
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