Queen’s Tattoo

A Chin village, Rakhine State, Myanmar. October 2016

 

https://soundcloud.com/user-564500617/queens-tattoo-kristan-emerson?in=user-564500617/sets/blurry-borders-exhibition

 

Whilst sitting in Ma’s bamboo house, in remote Rakhine State, Myanmar, she told us about her face tattoo, a tradition of the Chin ethnic group. When she was young the practice was banned by the military government. Ma was not meant to be tattooed but she was not one to be told what to do. She begged her family to let her receive the tattoo, even going on a hunger strike.

She began to tell us the cultural reasons why the tattoo was so important and how it was done. This story was interrupted as her daughter-in-law nudged her and motioned towards my face. They were interested in my face covering; to them it was a sight rarer than a heavily tattoed grandma.

Ma’s grandson had recently lost an eye, for what reason we couldn’t quite gather. She asked me about why I wore the patch and I tried my best to explain a complicated medical history. She told me about her fears and concerns for her grandson. It was a story I knew well. Her concerns were the same as my mother’s towards me. The grandson’s struggles were my struggles. We both did our best to hold back tears as we talked. The language barriers and cultural differences dissapeared.

I found a spare patch and offered it to Ma. She took and held it softly and with reverance. She was genuinely touched to receive something from a tourist, being more used to tourists wanting to take something away, and I was humbled to be able to share.

When it came time to take a few photographs I struggled. The tear stained eyes were one thing but the desire to not treat Ma as a freak show oddity was more overwhelming. I quickly snapped a few photographs so I could see the tattoo on my computer screen. I couldn’t see it in real life.

I prize Ma’s photographs and the story behind them but was even more humbled by the photo I received via email after returning to Australia. The picture was of her and her grandson. The grandson was wearing my patch. His patch. The tears started again along with smiles.