My Hand Marred in Myanmar

Machete for hacking through the Burmese jungleHello everyone. Sorry I’ve been so quiet lately, but I ran into a little trouble with the INS during the audit. My network of office spies alerted me that it was Fred’s doing. You see, he and I had a little co-worker rivalry going on. The result is that for the last few weeks I’ve been busy trying to get back.  Not at him, just to get back … into the country.

You see I was deported to China. That would make a certain amount of sense except that I’m Japanese. The Chinese don’t like us much (I’d say that was the icing on that prank, but I can’t imagine Fred would be so worldly to know that). Anyway, I caught a bus to the western Chinese province of Hunan where I made contact with a man who was willing to smuggle me out to Myanmar. For those of you not in-the-know, smuggling Chinese natives (or Japanese in my case) OUT of China and INTO Myanmar is like smuggling a diamond into a sewer — no one cares that you’re doing it, they just don’t understand why you’d bother. Anyway I’ve been holed up with some local Jinghpaw militants until the fog of war clears. They have a satellite uplink on a laptop computer so I borrowed it to do this post. Then it’s a straight shot to the Bangladeshi border, a quick hop into India, and a back home via “Get-Me-The-He77-Out-Of-Here Airlines”.

I’ve been really fortunate to have my BlackBookBerry with me this whole time. All of my contacts from my international studies are in here. That’s how I was able to find Bama Naga my school chum from the University of Seoul, now part-time Junta and spiritual leader for the Jinghpaw. During a particularly nasty firefight, I managed to get this ugly gash on my hand. I cleaned it up with some cheesecloth soaked in rice wine and got a field dressing, but it needed a splint. I duct-taped two WORM drives together and was good to go.

What I could really use though is a shower. Whew. I’m told that on the “spectrum of smells” I’m somewhere between a diaper full of lobster bisque and Fred’s cube after my first practical joke had been going about a week.  No matter.  I had the underground call ahead to the Hyderabad Hilton — they’ve got a room waiting for me.  A bath, a haircut, some competent medical attention for my hand, and I’m all set to make my way home and plan my revenge.

Oh, Fred.  I can’t wait to be home.

Last 5 posts by Tammy

TammyAbout Tammy
Marketing

Comments

  1. Patrick says:

    I saw the machete next to your post. I have been trying to find one “exactly” like it. Any Idea where I can get one?

  2. morgan says:

    i got one :) its actually really comfortable

  3. chindit1 says:

    Its not a machete its a Kukhri

Speak Your Mind

*

Cast Photos by Scott Smallie Photography