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There is a small village about an hour’s drive from the Muir School for the Deaf here in Kale, Myanmar. The extraordinary thing about it is that 48 of those who live in the village are deaf. I ask Neville why one small village should have so many afflicted. He said he didn’t know why. The only thing he knew was that they had to be reached.
And so it was that on this day we were travelling to visit the new church premises that DMI had been erecting. Though it had taken a long time to build and was still incomplete, the church family had been meeting there for services for quite some time, usually led my Monday (see blog #3).
The road there wasn’t exactly an expressway. In fact, it was probably the most dilapidated, pot-holed, meandering dirt road I’ve ever been on, with each bump and shake accentuated by the fact that half a dozen of us were squeezed in the back of a small van and being thrown all over each other. Meanwhile Neville was riding first class up in the front cabin, probably enjoying some scones and tea.
I shared the back of the van with Monday and four of the high school students from the deaf school. And one of those was Man San Nuam (Nuam).
Nuam has the distinction – without doubt – of being the most expressive signer I have ever met. I could barely understand what they were all signing backwards and forwards in the back of that van for an hour but watching Nuam at work was sheer joy. And she and the others were wonderful at presenting their beautiful country to me as it passed by, and teaching me how to sign in Burmese at the same time.
And so the excursion became far more than a service trip. It was a stunning look into the people and the landscape of Myanmar. It took us by endless runs of rice fields, through poverty-stricken villages, amongst stunning mountain scenery and rivers, and past small local schools where some of the girls held babies in colourful slings as they entered the grounds. At each point, Nuam would tap, poke or occasionally slap to get my attention then point with excitement. ‘These fields are rice’ she would sign by clicking her thumb nail to her pinky nail (on the same hand). ‘These fields are corn’ she would sign by going at an imaginary cob like she hadn’t eaten for days.
At one point the road was cut off by a stream. We drove through it gingerly, with Monday walking out front to check that it didn’t get too deep. Nuam indicated all too clearly that if we got stuck, we’d all be out and pushing the van, except for Neville, of course, who was probably just finishing some crackers and dip. At another point the back of the van was absolutely filled with flies, followed soon after by a stench as horrible as any I have smelt before as we drove through a dump. Nuam shared her feelings about this in what I believe is a universal signing – by screwing up her face, pinching her nose, holding her throat and pretending to violently retch.
We eventually arrived at the church, looked over it enthusiastically, and met some of the local congregation (who were also the builders). It was there I got to sit with Nuam and hear more of her story.
She is the seventh of eight siblings and came to the Muir School for the Deaf at the age of 7 or 8. She remembers her first day very clearly. She was so nervous and wondered what sort of place this would be. She had started earlier at a hearing school but as she couldn’t understand a thing they were doing it was a wholly negative experience. But the deaf school quickly turned out to be very different. Suddenly she could understand everything. She could now learn how to sign and communicate with others. Finally she fitted in!
Nuam has excelled at the school in every way. Academically, she is strong. She is physically healthy. Socially she is a star. And spiritually she is rich. She is keen to share her faith with me and tells me how much she enjoys sharing her faith with the other students. She loves the daily devotions and worshipping every morning is her special joy.
I ask her what things she prays about. She signs about school. She prays that she can get good grades and graduate from hearing school. (The deaf school here only goes up to grade six. Those who are capable, then attend the local hearing high school but come back each day to live at the dorm at the deaf school.) She thinks a little more about that and then her face becomes more serious. “I pray for Neville,” she signs. She knows how sick Neville is and says that she and her friends pray every day for him. A little tear forms in the corner of her eye as she thinks about it, but then she smiles again.
This community is her family, she tells me. She goes home to visit her parents and siblings once a month on a Friday and she loves this, but she feels that her real family is right here at the school. Her affection for this place – for the people here – is palpable.
Nuam’s life story continues a narrative that I see developing in all the students I interview. Their lives are all different but they all follow the same simple pattern and it’s this:
Before and After.
Before coming to the school here they were lost, lonely, frustrated, bored, misunderstood, without purpose, and even scared. After coming to the school they find not just friendship but family, they find stimulation through the school programs, they experience deep personal fulfilment in the fellowship of signing, and they find peace through their faith in Christ.
This is not hyperbole. This is radical life change – the before and after testimonies – and I see it in the kids as they laugh and play, as they interact with each other, as they succeed in their studies, and as they worship.
I look at kids like Nuam and I’m amazed at how much DMI has achieved, yet I am at the same time amazed at how much we still have to do. There are so many more Nuams and Hughs and Lians and Deihs and Wendys right here in Myanmar and in developing countries around the world who remain unreached and who need to be reached.
For the joy set before us, we continue to serve.
If you would like to know how you can support Nuam, any of the kids or teachers, or help meet any of DMI’s needs, please click on the donate button below, or mail to info@deafmin.org
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