It’s all a question of balance, both physical and mental - transport solutions in Myanmar.

-A day in the life of a VSO volunteer. Naypyitaw, Myanmar, 27 July 2018-

A bicycle is essential in this city, which covers a vast area, as there is no public transport and taxis are expensive. So, my wife, Lisa and I, were forewarned when we moved from Yangon to Naypyidaw in February to work as volunteers for VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas – an international aid organisation). To be mobile, we bought e-bikes at the market in Yangon and took them with us. Little did I know then that my e-bike and I would have a very eventful day together.

Our heavy Chinese e-bikes in Myanmar

It started with the chain of my electric bike making strange noises. The cause was quickly found. There was a chain tensioner fitted to the bicycle chain, and the chain had slipped over the worn cogwheel of the tensioner because it could no longer find a grip. So it had to be repaired.

The bicycle needed to be repaired

There was a bicycle repair shop in our area, and so I took my bicycle there to have the worn cogwheel replaced. Communication was a little complicated, but with a bit of ingenuity and sign language, I managed to explain the problem to the bike mechanic.

However, he did not have a new cogwheel and said there was another bicycle workshop in town, about 5 kilometres away, that would have one. When I could locate this workshop on the map of my mobile phone, it was more like 22 than 5 kilometres away. That was definitely too far to cycle there and back, even with a fully charged battery. So, what to do under these circumstances?

A motorbike taxi was a good solution in my eyes. So, I suggested hiring such a motorbike taxi, removing the worn cogwheel, giving it to a motorbike taxi driver and asking him to drive to the other bike repair shop, present the old cog as a sample to the bike mechanic there, purchase a suitable new one and bring the new cogwheel back to us so that we could install it in my e-bike.

The bicycle repair shop owner must have understood my plan because he nodded his head in agreement, and a few minutes later, the motorbike taxi appeared.

I pointed out the worn cogwheel of my e-bike to the driver, and he also nodded his head knowingly.

But then, to my surprise, the driver thrust a crash helmet into my hand and signalled for me to sit on the back seat. The bicycle mechanic lifted my e-bike and placed it between me and the rider of the motorbike taxi. Understandably I was baffled, but I let everything happen as if I had planned it exactly that way.

Motorbike taxis often offer the solution to transport problems in NayPyiTaw

Good balance is needed

I held the bike by the saddle with one hand to balance it, supported the frame with one knee and the rear wheel with the other, and then clutched the seat with the other hand to avoid falling off.

In the half-hour it took us to get to the other side of town, I mostly managed to balance my e-bike well, but the muddy country road we took was a challenge in itself.

When we arrived at the bike repair shop, I dismounted with relief and put my heavy bike on the ground, and I thought I was a big step closer to solving the problem.

However, it was the wrong repair shop.

I lifted the bike back onto the seat, balanced myself and my bike, and we rode to the next bike repair shop.

With great expectations, I picked up my bike and put it in front of the workshop. But again, it was the wrong repair shop. So, I lifted the bike back onto the seat, balanced myself and my bike, and we rode to the next bike shop.

This was not a bicycle shop, however, but a junkyard. The owner came out and wiped his oily hands on an even oilier rag. I pointed to the worn cogwheel, and he immediately knew the problem.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a new cogwheel, so he went back into the bowels of his junkyard and came out with a handful of tools and a big box of spare parts, accompanied by two young lads. They squatted down next to my motorbike taxi driver in their longyis (the customary skirt-like wrap-around for men) and watched intently as the mechanic set to work.

He removed the old, worn cogwheel, replaced it with an even older one and took my e-bike for a test ride. However, he was not really happy with the result. So, he stripped the bike down again, found another old cogwheel in his spare parts box, and set to work again. While he was installing the cogwheel, a skinny and stooped older man with a long, shaggy beard shuffled up and joined the other three to watch and comment on what was happening. More people arrived to see what this foreigner was doing in their village. This crowd of quizzical onlookers did not make the mechanic nervous in the least.

The bicycle is working again

When he returned from another test ride, he shrugged his shoulders and, with the help of the crowd and universal sign language, told me that the repair had been successful but that a new cogwheel would, of course, have been far better. The repair took the bike mechanic an hour and cost £1.50.

I lifted my now fully functioning bike back onto the seat of the motorbike taxi, and once I was balanced, we set off on the long journey back. The staff of the scrapyard, namely the bike mechanic, the two boys and the older man, waved us an enthusiastic goodbye.

Five minutes later, we stopped at a shack, and my driver told me to dismount together with my bike. I suspected he had got a stiff neck during the transport. Since we couldn’t communicate in English, he always just shook his head when I asked. It turned out that the air hose lying on the ground indicated an urgently needed service. The air in the rear tyre of his taxi motorbike had slowly but surely escaped and was almost flat due to the extra weight of my bike and myself.

The lady who operated the air compressor pumped up the tyre. Then he turned to me and pointed at her. She held out her hand, and I offered her a handful of notes, and she took 200 kyats, less than 10 pence. I then lifted the bike, placed the bike between us and, when I found the right balance, off we rode.

Ten minutes later we stopped at a petrol station because we were running out of petrol. I had to get off again because the bike’s tank was under the seat. This time the driver paid. I lifted my e-bike up again, and we set off when I’d found the right balance.

By now, it had become very hot and sweaty under my crash helmet, and it didn’t really help that the visor was scratched and wouldn’t stay open. I was tired, my arms, legs and knees ached, and I longed for this ride to end.

But there was one last challenge to overcome.

We came to a narrow, rickety bridge that spanned a wide river. Halfway across, another motorbike approached from the opposite direction. Strapped to the back of the rider was a large circular wooden table, and it stuck out on both sides of this motorbike.

He didn’t slow down, and neither did we. I don’t know how we missed each other because the rear wheel of my bike skimmed the right wall of the bridge, and I fully expected my front wheel to hit the round table and flip the other motorcyclist around like a coin and us over the side of the bridge. But we missed each other by millimetres.

The rest of the ride back was uneventful and never-ending, and I was more than grateful to get back in one piece.

How much did this epic adventure cost? The equivalent of £5 plus 10p for pumping up the bike’s rear tyre. This adventure shows the immense ingenuity of people in Myanmar to find transport solutions. All you needed was to maintain balance.

Yes, this was an eventful day in the life of a VSO volunteer, but I wondered what adventures tomorrow would bring.

(DL)