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“Dear, we’re invited to have Monhinga at a house two doors away; will you just drop in there on your way to work?”

“I’m late, Aye, you go. Then you’ll get to know your new neighbours. Better you than me, you’re a woman.”

We had moved into this place recently and we were still strangers in the neighbourhood. We liked our privacy and the neighbours seem to be checking out our behaviour from afar. We knew that living in a close community like this would mean everyone getting into everyone else’s affairs, so we thought it would be best if we did not get too familiar. But then, when it comes to social dealings, we could not very well stay away, ould we.

A lot of guests were already there as I went into the house holding the ceremony. Since I was a new face, the others turned as one to stare at me. The hostess came up to greet me, and gave me a place to sit. One lady already at the table stared hard at my longyi apparently to access its worth, fashion and financial wise, before speaking to me.

“You just rented Daw Hla Myaing’s house, didn’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“Where did you live before?”

“Oh…. downtown.”

“So, why didn’t you stay on there?”

Someone interrupted with this blunt question. I tried to keep a smile on my face: I was going to be living among them, after all.

“After we got married, we couldn’t find a place yet, so we had to stay in town.”

“Oh, were you living with friends?”

“No, no…with my in-laws.”

“Is that so? Then why did you move…didn’t get along with your in-laws?”

Dear god. I never thought such a rude question would be hurled at me. I felt the smile leave my face.

“N..no. …there were too many relatives there, and we wanted a place of our own.”

Facing such curiosity I wanted to leave as soon as could. I did, after having a plate of Monhinga, saying I have a baby left at home with my maid.

I was apprehensive about living in this neighbourhood, but I would have to try my best to get along with the community. Having a place of one’s own was very difficult in this city and although we had been looking for a place to rent since before our marriage, our son was already four months old by the time we found this house. The landlords are usually fussy but since we were just the three of us and one maid, we were able to rent this small bungalow easily.

“Sister, is the sister of the house at home?”

I heard a call from outside; it was one of the ladies I had met at the morning feast, the one who had asked bluntly about quarrels with my in-laws. She was elderly, but kept herself well turned out and made-up so she looked younger than her years.

“I wonder if you have pretty new blouses, I’d like to borrow some for my daughter to copy the design,” she smiled as she came in.

“Yes, of course, please sit down. I’ll get some.”

I invited her half-heartedly but she even followed me to the bedroom, not sitting in the living room as I had indicated.

To get it over with as quickly as possible, I dragged out three or four blouses out of my suitcase. She pretended to choose, but her eyes were roving around the room. Moving to a new house meant so many expenses that we had few pieces of furniture: we had no bed yet and we slept on a mattress laid on the floor. She said nothing, chose two blouses, and came out to sit in the living room. She did not look as if she would be leaving anytime soon.

“Where do you live, aunt?” I made polite conversation.

“Oh, next door, don’t you know?”

So it was she, screaming at her children every morning.

Picking up my son she asked how old he was,

“Four months.”

“Hmm…big for his age…what does his father do?”

There she was again, bluntly inquisitive.

“He works at a printing press.”

“Oh, a mechanic?”

“No, a proof reader.”

“A what? A compositor?”

“No, he reads proofs.”

She did not seem to understand, and the big bookcase overflowing with my husband’s books did not seem to impress her at all. I did not bother letting her know that my husband worked at his parent’s publishing house.

“How much do you pay your maid?”

The direction of her attack changed.

“Forty a month.”

“Well, I suppose you must have a maid. Now what is your name again?”

“It’s Aye Aye, Aunt.”

“Is your husband’s salary good enough?”

“Yes, not bad.”

“Does he write?”

“Yes, a bit.”

She just sat there, cooing to my baby. I was fed up; I knew the next round of questions would start again soon.

Just then, the maid called from the kitchen about how to cook the fish for lunch, and I excused myself and stayed back there. After a while she called good-bye and left. Thank god she did not follow me into the kitchen to inspect the food.

When I complained to my husband, he said I should relax and adjust myself to the neighbourhood. But it was not easy: there was Ma Ma Nu, who usually calls me if she saw me on the way to the bazaar to ask me to get her a chicken or something else. Not that she would give me the money then or afterwards. Only when I pressed with broad hints would she reluctantly hand over some notes which did not cover the costs. Now I have learnt to lie:

“Oh dear, I forgot to get the chicken for you!”

Or, “I didn’t see it anywhere in the market!”

“Now what are you cooking?”

Ma Mya Than strolled straight into my kitchen. Being almost the same age, we got together more often: going to the Government Shop to get our ration of rice or milk powder, for example. However, she already had five kids who usually come along, messing up my husband’s books or pulling at my son.

“Nothing, the maid’s doing it. Come, come to the front room.”

I dragged her and her kids out to the living room.

“I came to show you this piece of nylon; it’s only Kyat 37 a yard. One yard is too much for me so maybe we can take half each, for short-sleeved jackets?”

“It’s only Ks. 40 in the market so the price isn’t that cheap. Anyway the green colour doesn’t suit me and you know I don’t wear short sleeves.”

“Oh, I buy everything that’s new, it doesn’t matter if I never wear it. Why, I have five kids and you have only one. Can’t afford new clothes, eh?”

“Well, we prefer to eat well to be healthy, you know. And my husband buys loads of books.”

I noticed that her kids were rather puny. With such different tastes and different views, I was hard put trying to be compatible with her.

Ma Tin Hlaing my neighbour on the other side seemed like a quiet lady. One day I went over to use her sewing machine. But she turned out to be quite a gossip for within minutes she had related to me most of the personal matters of the neighbouring houses.

“You know that thin woman living one house away from you?” she asked suddenly.

”You mean Ma Ma Nu?”

”No, the house next door to me…there.”

“I looked and felt guilty when I saw that woman herself staring out the window at us.”

“Her husband’s never home.”

“Oh, does he work out of town?” I asked more out of politeness than anything.

“No, he’s got a second wife…spends all his time there. Comes here once in a blue moon, doesn’t even give her enough money.”

“Poor thing! And she’s rather pretty…how nasty of the husband.”

“And that Ma Ma Nu, have you seen her husband yet, Aye?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s that young chap….much younger than her. That’s why she’s always trying to look young, too.”

“Oh, is that him? I didn’t know…I thought he was a son or nephew or something.”

I hurried home as I did not want to hear more.

Two days later I was sitting on the front stoop when Ma Mya Than came to chat and to look for non-existent lice in my hair. I protested that it was embarrassing to be doing that in full view of passers-by, but she insisted.

Then Ma Ma Nu came up the steps, a sulky look on her face.

I wondered what was wrong.

“Do sit down, Ma Ma Nu,” I welcomed her.

“No need; I’ll say what I have to say.”

As I stared at her in surprise, she went on in a furious voice, hands on her hip.

“Now, I heard that you’ve been telling people that my husband is young enough to be my son?”

I was silent with shock.

“You moved in a few weeks ago and think you can lord it over us? Look, I own my house, I don’t live in a rented place and I’ve lived here longer than you. Don’t think you can get away with bad-mouthing me. Keep your nose out of my affairs. You really don’t know much about what I can do, do you?” she sneered.

“No, Ma Ma Nu, you’re wrong; I didn’t know anything. I just said I’d thought him to be a son or nephew. I said what I thought so what’s wrong with that?”

First I was going to be polite but rising anger made my voice shrill.

Ma Mya Than entered the fray.

“Well, what’s wrong with that, she’s just saying what is correct!”

Then the battle changed to one between the two of them. I could not say what past resentments the two harboured but in no time they were hurling personal insults at the top of their voices. I saw the thin woman standing in the lane, looking on with an angry look on her face. I learnt later that she had eavesdropped on my conversation to sneak to Ma Ma Nu.

“It’s so embarrassing! So embarrassing! I hate it here…I hate the sleazy people. I’m going to be like them if I stay…I’ve never ever quarrelled in my life, now look at what happened.”

Every evening I complained to my husband. Every morning before he leaves for work I would urge him to find another house. He began to come home late and leave early: but I did not give up. Soon it worked: my husband said he had found another place.

We moved to a flat, not really downtown but nearer to it. My maid went back to her village and I was left to look after my son all alone. Where we lived before one of the neighbours could be relied upon to baby-sit so I had more free time. Now I hardly left the house.

Before my husband left for work I had to hurry to the market. The new neighbours seemed to have no interest in us so it did not seem possible they would baby-sit. They seemed to treasure their privacy more than we did. When we moved in, lugging pots and pans, nobody bothered to glance at us and even if we meet on the street we were like complete strangers.

One afternoon all of a sudden I felt ill with a high fever. I wanted to phone my husband but there were no public phones nearby. I knew my neighbour had one so I went to press their doorbell. Someone looked from the peephole, and opened the door.

“Please, I don’t feel well and I need to call my husband. May I use your phone?”

The lady stood and stared at me silently. Then she said dourIy, “Go ahead”.

I made a hurried call, and with an even more hurried Thank you, left at once. The door was slammed behind my back.

In this new place I must admit I was thoroughly bored. No one made friends with us, and when they had guests for a function, we were never invited.

One Sunday, I was sitting chatting with my husband, when there was a knock on our door. We opened it to see my aunt who lived in the country, bundles in hand. As was her habit she started to complain loudly.

“What a time I had, looking for your place! As if it were war time and everywhere a mess. I forgot your house number so I had to ask by your name but nobody knew you! Even the people next door said they don’t know. And they glared at me just for asking that, can you believe it? And what was wrong with your previous house, may I ask?” she went on.

“That place? Oh..um..this place is better, really, Aunt. There, people are so inquisitive.”

“Well so what, then, it’s like a big family wasn’t it. They do give you help you when you need it, don’t they?”

It was true; whenever I felt under the weather, Ma Mya Than would hurry over. Even Ma Ma Nu would bring over a bowl of soup.

My Aunt turned to my husband and jerked her chin at me.

“She’s always so fussy, isn’t she…not liking it here, not liking it there. There’s no pleasing her.”

I was silent. I had nothing to say and honestly, I had no idea what sort of neighbourhood I want to live in anymore.