I was watching the news and one piece made me cry. I vowed that I will never work on anything for Myanmar (formerly Burma) again, unless it is an aid project. It shames me that I didn't question my own actions and my employer's actions before.

The Border

Deng used the wheel to smooth the last rough edges from the top end. It was a point of principal that it should fit well and there was professional pride to think of. It was finished, very well finished too, but he sighed nonetheless. On the bench the latest customer, Sanan, waited for Deng to finish working. He had a look of anticipation, mixed with a little fear maybe, which was quite normal under the circumstances.
Deng walked over to the bench and proffered the now complete work with the best smile anyone could muster at a time like this.

"Would you like to try it out?"

"Yes, can you help me with it? I haven't done this before."

"Of course, it was new to me once too. I know exactly what you are going through and see; it's not so hard. I bet if my mundu was a bit longer you wouldn't even know, eh?"

"Well, maybe not, but you still have a limp."

"Yes, I have limp, but at least I'm walking without a stick, and so can you. Here, let me help you with the straps. They need to be tight, but not so tight that they restrict your blood flow, understand?"

"Yes, I understand, tight, but not too tight. How can I tell if it is too tight?"

"If you feel your leg getting numb or if it gets pale then the straps are too tight."

"Okay, numb or pale, I understand."

"Good. Right, up on your feet! Very good! Hold onto the table and walk round a few times. Careful! If you find it too difficult to start with you should use a stick."

"I never want to use a stick again!"

"Don't be hasty. You have to learn to walk again. It's not like it was before. Now everything is an obstacle. Fate will throw rocks in your path to trip you. You have to look out all the time for things that can make you lose your footing."

"I should... I should have been looking out for that before."

The young man buckled and started to sob. Deng grabbed a chair and placed it behind him, anticipating the loss of balance that usually went with sudden tears.

"Hey, hey now. You didn't do this. It's not your fault. No-one can blame you. Blame the generals, blame the Chinese, blame the Americans, blame the British, but don't blame yourself."

"I know, I know, but every night when I wake up with the pain and I see my brothers lying in the rice field I wonder why they had to die. Malian has... had a wife with a baby on the way and Wasan was engaged, but I wasn't even courting. Why them? Why not me?"

"I can't answer your question Sanan and I have questions of my own. You rest here a while and when you feel strong again keep practising. I expect you will be walking all round the hospital by the end of the week."

"Won't my stump get sore with all that walking?"

"Yes it will, so you will have more pain until the skin gets thicker. You must keep it clean or you will get an infection, but be careful not to wash too much and stop the skin getting thicker where it rubs."

Deng returned to his work bench and picked up the next prosthesis. He only did legs now. Making arms had been fine until the young girl had come in. She was only five when the landmine exploded under her mother's foot. In a way, Deng thought, her mother was lucky. She died within minutes of the explosion. Little Boon-nam had lost her mother, her arm and the sight in one eye, but she was so brave. She never complained and although the nurses told Deng she cried at night, whenever she came to the fitting room she always smiled. She would have been so pretty, but now with only one good eye and a wooden arm she would grow up with a stigma and never have a husband or a family of her own.
The generals received yet another curse from under Deng's breath. What were they so afraid of that the whole border was seeded with mines? It was madness. The generals were surely insane, but the truth was they didn't care. Here on the border life was cheap. The only thing worth having anywhere near was deep under the sea and if what the Australian doctor said was true it was poisoned with Mercury.
Deng didn't know what mercury was, so he had asked one of the foreign nurses, it was a metal like lead, but it was also a liquid. Deng didn't understand, but one evening the American film 'Terminator 2" was showing and then he understood.

As the generator started up and the lights came on Deng put his work back on the bench. He ate with the other locals in the hospital canteen - it was free food - and made his way back to the bungalow. Like so many nights before he cried into his pillow at lost opportunities. Now he would never be able to live his dream. No amount of surgery, hormones or make-up would ever make him beautiful like one of the world-famous dancing lady-boys. Not with a wooden leg.

The insects chirped their nocturnal rhythm and Deng lay back on his mattress. Perhaps it was not all bad and perhaps some things happen for a reason. He gently massaged the swelling on his chest and with his other hand rolled the empty sack of skin between his thumb and finger. Yes, the mine had robbed him of his leg, but it had also injured both the strangers between his legs so much the Australian doctor had to remove them. Deng decided he would speak to the doctor when he had a chance. The doctor had already said he should talk to him if anything about his body changed, but somehow Deng sensed the doctor expected him to resent the changes not welcome them. Deng smiled a half happy, half sad smile. The doctor would have to learn to see Deng differently and perhaps it was time to think of a new name.