How long have you lived in Myanmar, and where have you spent most of your life?
I've never lived outside Myanmar for a long period except for during college. I think mostly because of family and business, since both my parents, my wife and my children stayed here. Besides that, maybe it was also because I spent so much time there. Leaving permanently would feel like cutting myself from my heritage, even when the situation here became difficult.
What does Burmese culture mean to you personally? How would you describe its core?
To me, the core of Burmese culture is consideration for others. It is more of an unspoken understanding: knowing when to speak and when to remain silent, respecting elders, and avoiding unnecessary conflict. I think it's the most important thing in how people here survive and coexist.
Which aspects of Burmese culture do you feel most connected to or protective of?
I guess similarly, the aspect I hold onto most strongly is the sense of collective responsibility. We shouldn't live only for ourselves. Our family, neighbours, and community are deeply connected, so that when one person suffers, others feel it too. This mindset shapes how we act and how we endure difficult circumstances together.
In your view, what is the most essential part of a Burmese identity?
It's probably resilience mixed with humility. This country has been through uncertainty for generations, and people here have learned to endure it quietly. Of course that doesn't mean we stay still, but I think we always like to carry pain without always expressing it.
Has your sense of belonging to Myanmar changed over time?
Not really. When I was younger, I don't think I ever questioned it. Right now I still feel the same attachment, but also a greater concern. Feeling like you belong in a country that has always faced difficulty is strange.
You've spoken about the things that hold a Burmese identity together. What about Myanmar do you most want the next generation to carry?
I think it is the way we gather. In Myanmar, even a small occasion becomes a roomful of people, and the room is filled with food. When my daughter moved to Singapore, she told me that the hardest part was not the weather or the language. It was the silence at mealtimes. The next generation, I hope, will keep the habit of making a table that is too small feel too big. There is a Burmese word for this, အိမ်မှာလာပြီး, which means "they came to the house", and the only correct response is to put another plate on the table.
And what about Myanmar would you want them to leave behind?
I would want them to leave behind the suspicion. In our country, people have learned to be careful with each other. We watch how someone enters a room before we speak. I understand why this exists. It came from a long period of fear. But I do not want my children to live that way. I would want them to leave behind the hierarchy too, the way we use titles and age to put distance between people. In Singapore the children are polite in a different way, more direct, more equal. And I would want them to leave behind the economy that forces them to leave. I do not consider that a value of the country; I consider it a failure of the country.
How has your relationship with Myanmar changed since the 2021 coup?
It has become more complicated, and more honest. Before, I think I was able to tell myself a story about the country that made sense. The story was that we were going through a difficult patch but we were still ourselves. After 2021 that story stopped working. The country I grew up in is not the country my children are growing up in. The economy has collapsed. Many of the people I went to school with have left. My neighbourhood is quieter. I do not feel betrayed, because Myanmar was never a single thing. It was always a country of contradictions, but I do feel tired. What I have not lost is the feeling of responsibility. My children are not in Myanmar, but their cousins are, and the people who taught them are. I am still responsible for a place I am no longer living in.
What advice would you give to a young Burmese person building a life in Singapore?
Do not let the efficiency of Singapore make you feel that your family is inefficient. We are not slow; we are thorough. Learn the rhythm of the place you are in. Make some gatherings something you are inventing together. Do not lose the language. I know it is hard. The children speak faster here, they pick up Singlish, the school teaches them in English. But Burmese is the way you will pray, joke, and argue with the people you love. Try to keep it, even at home.
About this interview
A conversation with my father about his experiences with Myanmar and Burmese culture, recorded for Lahpet Voices. Names and identifying details have been kept as agreed with the contributor.
This interview was recorded across three afternoons at the family home in Yangon, transcribed in Burmese, then translated with the contributor's review. The contributor chose to keep his relationship and the family's neighbourhood identifiable at a district level; the names of immediate family members and the specific location have been withheld at his request.
Concluding thoughts
After the recording stopped, he said belonging, for him, was no longer a place. It was the way his wife laughed when she was nervous. It was the name of a street he used to walk to school.
He said he had not realised until he was older that the country is also made of these small things. The big things, the politics, the economy, the history, happen around you. The small things are what you carry.
It was the most Burmese thing he said all afternoon, and he did not know it was Burmese at all.