By Aurnt Bwe Kaung

MY mom is a great artist, indeed. Although her expertise is managing her office, household works and cooking, she never fails to put a sense of art anytime she does her works.

Last 10 years ago, our family was faced with a really tough time. Both my mom and dad were government staff. The whole family depended on my parents’ salary which was not sufficient at that time to support a family since my dad was transferred to Sittway, Rakhine State. I was in Grade-9 and my two younger sisters were still at the primary school. So, almost half of my parents’ money always went for school costs. Both of our parents had to struggle for the family.

Our family dinner was usually at around 7 pm as my mom went back from her office at 5:30. As soon as she was home, she changed her clothes and started cooking dinner for us. She gave us lectures like “how to clean the house, when to get up, how to behave well at school” while she was cooking. Since she was in her office compound, she plucked some leaves which are good to be meal such as water plants, rosselle, tender bale leaves, and tamarind, sometimes. We did not understand that it is a way to save money for the kitchen.

Indeed, meat was so rare to find room on our dinner table. Though we did not have much meat, we loved what our mom cooked for us as she gave appetite talks while we were having dinner. If the curry is only a bowl of sour tamarind soup and pounded chilies, she would start to talk about the life of happy peasants. She could illustrate our insipid dinner into a delicious scene without changing the curry theme.

“After our ancestor peasants have done their farm work, they plucked fresh leaves nearby the farm. They cooked a big bowl of soup with fresh leaves. They pounded chilies with a bit of salt. Then, they have their warm meal altogether happily.” She expounded her lecture while putting more soup into a bowl in the middle of the table.

She somehow decorated our dinner with her words and stories. She might not want us to think that we are having poor meals. We do swear that we had the meal much better than we could by the power of my mom’s appetite words. When she cooked bean soup, she would talk about the carefree life of Indians. Plus, she would add a remark that bean makes us strong. When we had just a bowl of fish sauce (Nga-piyae), for dinner, she created our appetite by making a medical remark that fish sauce is a combination of fishes so that we must be definitely healthy.

To be honest, we never think what our mom cooked for us was poor. Till now, I often have had great dinners at restaurants but I always yearn for my mom’s appetite talks. I believe that there would be no more delicious dinner in the world than the dinner which is full of love under the dim candlelight with my mom’s sparkling beautiful words.