I was surprised when the boat driver picked me up early to take me to the airport, but I quickly put away my book, gathered my things, and waved goodbye to the nice people in the hotel lobby. On the way to the market (where I would be met by a different driver who would take me to the airport), I planned how I would give him a $20 tip. I wanted to give him the money discretely but I knew that the bills had to remain crisp, so I couldn’t stuff them in my pocket. I also debated what I would say and when I would give it to him.
As we approached the docks, I simply pulled the bill from its envelope, asked the driver if I could give him something, and then handed him the bill as I thanked him for showing me Myanmar and its people. He smiled and thanked me and told me that the driver would be here at 1:30 (it was 1:00).
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll meet him here at 1:30, near the oil cans,” and I pointed to the oil cans near the dock.
“I stay here,” he said. “Until the driver comes.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “You can go.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You keep your bag here,” he said as he motioned to my large backpack.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I’m sure,” he said. “No money in it, right?” he asked.
“Right,” I said. I pointed to my smaller bag. “I have that with me,” and I thought hmmmm, I hope he doesn’t leave it somewhere unattended. Then I thought, eh, it’s probably fine.
I walked into town, looked around a bit, found a really cool NLD t-shirt for my friend, and then realized I needed to get back because it was almost 1:30.
As I approached the dock, I saw the driver sitting on the steps and waved at him. As he stood up, two other men stood up with him and they all walked toward a car.
“Oh,” I said, realizing that they had been waiting for me. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “Bye bye, see you next time.”
“JaySuBay,” I said to him as I got into a strange car with two strange men. It occurred to me that I didn’t have my backpack. I was pretty sure it was in the trunk and I didn’t want to be the jerky American who asks, but I also didn’t want to be the idiot who didn’t.
About two blocks later I asked, “My backpack? It is in the trunk?”
“Yes,” the man in the passenger seat answered.
“I thought so,” I said. “He takes care of everything,” I smiled as I pointed back towards the driver who was waving goodbye to us.
Then the man asked me when my flight was and we laughed about how early I would be and then we stopped, outside a bank, and the man got out of the car. I didn’t see where he went, but then the driver pulled farther forward, parked, and then he got out of the car too.
“I guess I’ll just stay here,” I said to myself jokingly as I looked around but couldn’t see either of them anywhere. Then I looked behind me and saw the man in the passenger seat doing something in the trunk, then closing it. He walked over to my window. “My brother will drive you to the airport now. Goodbye.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For robbing me,” I thought.
I wondered whether he took my whole backpack or just parts of it. I wondered if we would get to the airport and the brother would say, “I don’t know what happened to your bag! It was here when I got in the car.” I wondered if they stole it when they first got out of the car or if they had stolen it way back at the port. Then I remembered what the boat driver had asked me, “No money in there, right?” and I decided this was a racket. He brought them the stuff (the passenger’s heavy luggage) but didn’t partake in the thievery, that was up to them.
I made a mental calculation of what was actually in my backpack, what they might have taken, what I would be sad to have lost. I was pretty sure I had my kindle with me, but the only other things in there were my clothes, a copy of my credit cards and passport, a bunch of souvenirs, and the power cord to my laptop. I pictured them picking up the power cord to steal it but then then being told by the boat driver to leave it, that I was a good person, that the power cord wasn’t worth robbing me for. I thought they might take the photocopy of my credit cards and figured I’d call the bank when I got back to my friend’s house in Yangon. It would be an inconvenience, but not too bad. Really, the only thing I would be sad about was if the power cord were stolen, because I would only be able to write for 6 more hours.
I desperately wanted to get in to the trunk to see if my backpack was there. It was weird to be sitting right in front of it and not be able to get it, to check it, to see what had been stolen. And then I thought, “It doesn’t matter. It’s already been done. Seeing it? Checking to see what has been stolen doesn’t change whether or not you were robbed. You have no idea if you have been robbed or not and even if you did, that already happened, let it go. You can’t do anything about this.”
I took a deep breath and tried to quiet my thoughts. I tried to be present to the things around me. But then I started reliving the incident over in my head. I wondered whether the boat driver had picked me up early on purpose. I thought about asking this driver to let me check my backpack. I considered all the things I could have done to prevent this. I thought about how I would have reacted to this if it had happened a year ago, before I started going to the zen center.
“Stop!” I said. “Stop thinking about this.” But then I thought, “How is this harming anyone? I’m not that upset thinking about this, I’m just thinking about it, not worrying or being stressed.” But then I looked at the guy in the front seat and I realized that I had made him in to a thief- that I now looked at him as someone who would rob me, as someone totally separate from me, capable of doing me harm. And I thought about all those different Buddhas in the pagodas and how the Buddha is everyone and I tried to see him as the Buddha, and then I thought, “My readers would be so proud of me right now. I’m being present to being robbed and I’m trying really hard to see the Buddha in the man who I think robbed me.” I did, it’s really what I thought. I really did try to be present and stop thinking that I was robbed because I thought you would be proud of me for doing that. So thank you, for being my motivator.
I struggled some more with my thoughts but then I remembered how much I had missed of my ‘driving tour’ of Bagan when I was lost in my thoughts, so I started looking out the window and tried to be present to the scenery of Myanmar.
When we finally arrived at the airport, I quickly got out of the car, eager to see if my backpack was in the trunk. As the driver handed my backpack to me, I immediately noticed two things about it: a metallic red, handmade, origami-like paper flower had been placed in one of its buckles, and the top of my backpack was partly unzipped.
I pointed to the flower, smiled, and said goodbye to the driver. He was probably confused because I don’t think he was the one who put it there, I think it was the boat driver with whom I had spent the past two days. I walked into the airport terminal, put my backpack down as quickly as I could, and unzipped it…everything was there. I don’t know if they rifled through it or not, maybe I had left it unzipped, maybe they had left it unzipped; at that point, it didn’t matter, I had my things, and I had a shiny red flower.
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