“All I want is a home”: Daw Kyi Kyi Win’s life after the earthquake in Myanmar

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Shaken to the core: A city and its people displaced 

When the earthquake struck, the city of Mandalay bore the brunt of the destruction. Buildings cracked open, staircases collapsed, and thousands were forced to flee. The shock was physical and emotional, and for many older people like Daw Kyi Kyi Win, it was life-altering. 

Living on the third floor of a residential building, Daw Kyi Kyi Win was reading quietly when the earth began to tremble. What followed was chaos, fear, and a long journey of displacement – one that would rob her not only of her home, but also of her health and independence. 

 

“Help me, help me!”: Escaping the collapse 

“I was reading when it happened,” recalls Daw Kyi Kyi Win. “Suddenly everything was shaking. I shouted for help.” 

Neighbours rushed in and carried her, taking turns to get her safely down the damaged stairs. Her family escaped uninjured, but their building was left structurally unsound. The back had collapsed, and the front was deemed too dangerous to re-enter. 

“We lost everything,” she says. “The pantry, closets, dishes—all gone.” 

 

From home to pavement: A life in limbo 

Following the earthquake, the family spent a week living on the pavement. They now live in an emergency shelter, alongside over 700 others. 

Daw Kyi Kyi Win shares the space with her son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren. Once relatively independent, she now relies completely on them.

Before the earthquake, she could go to the kitchen and toilet by herself. But being dragged down in a rush injured her. Now she needs two people to lift her into a wheelchair.

Daw Kyi Kyi Win's son

Despite having a wheelchair, rocky terrain prevents her from using it freely. Her family must carry her to and from the shelter just to access basic services. 

 

A daily struggle for dignity 

The conditions in the shelter are not fit for anyone – let alone an older woman with multiple health conditions. Daw Kyi Kyi Win suffers from kidney disease, swelling in her legs, and painful knees. She depends on regular medication but receives no medical aid. 

Toilets and showers are shared among hundreds. “There are 10 to 15 people waiting when I need the toilet,” she says. “Sometimes we knock and ask, but people won’t come out. I have to wait. It’s very hard.” 

Even bathing has become a public ordeal. “This is a lake area,” her grandchild adds. “We wait in line, and then we help her wash. There’s no privacy.”

 

A home lost, a livelihood destroyed 

The family’s economic stability has also been shattered. Her son, a broker in the betel nut trade, has seen his income vanish. “We used to sell from Mawlamyine to Yangon and Mandalay,” he says. “Now everything has stopped.” 

To make matters worse, they had just paid rent on their apartment – 300,000 kyat for six months – just two weeks before the disaster struck. With the apartment now uninhabitable, that money is lost. 

 

Living in fear, giving with grace 

Despite the hardship, the family maintains a sense of quiet resilience. They accept aid gratefully, even when it doesn’t meet their needs. “Sometimes they donate what we don’t need, like lunch boxes,” Daw Kyi Kyi Win explains. “We give it to people who need it more. We just want what is necessary.” 

They’ve also experienced tensions in the crowded shelter, including unkind behaviour from some. But discrimination, she says, is not the issue. “There are good people and bad people. We just keep to ourselves.” 

 

A cry for safety and shelter 

When asked what she needs most, Daw Kyi Kyi Win’s answer is simple:

I just want to be healthy, and a place to stay. I don’t want anything else.

Her words lay bare the urgent need for an inclusive response to disasters – one that protects the dignity, autonomy and wellbeing of older people. In times of crisis, older people are too often invisible in the response. Yet they face distinct vulnerabilities that demand targeted support. 

“All I want is a home” 

For Daw Kyi Kyi Win, the earthquake has left more than physical scars. It has stripped away her independence and upended a life she had built over 86 years. But what remains is her clarity, her quiet dignity, and her plea: 

“I don’t have anything else to say,” she tells the interviewer. “But I want to ask for help to find a home. That’s all. We don’t need anything else.” 

 

 

The Myanmar earthquake crisis and humanitarian efforts

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