When a powerful earthquake struck Myanmar in March 2025, it left not only homes but also lives fractured. In villages across the affected region, families scrambled to safety as the ground trembled and buildings collapsed.
For older people like 62-year-old Daw Pyone, the quake was not just a natural disaster – it was a brutal blow to an already fragile existence, exposing the deep vulnerabilities that come with age, ill health, and poverty. This is her story.
“I’m not healthy”
At 62, Daw Pyone is a member of the Arr Man Thit Older People’s Self-Help Group, though she insists she’s not active – “I’m not healthy,” she says quietly. Years of battling back pain and severe anaemia have left her weak and dependent. She needs regular blood transfusions – three bottles each time – and her rare blood type, O negative, makes each transfusion a race against time.
My body needs blood every two months. Sometimes I get it, sometimes I don’t. Now with the earthquake and so many injured people, I worry they won’t have time for someone like me.
“We live three in this house”
Daw Pyone lives with her son and daughter-in-law. Like her, her son also suffers from chronic back pain due an injury. He used to work as an electrician but can no longer manage the physical strain.
“My son takes care of everything,” she says. “But he’s not well either. The three of us manage together.”
Their modest home, now damaged, is all they have. Her other children live separately and are unable to offer day-to-day help.
“It was shaking so much, we didn’t know whether to cry or run”
When the earthquake hit, Daw Pyone was in the house while her son rested upstairs and her daughter-in-law prepared to shower. The shaking was sudden and violent. Her son narrowly escaped injury when the bed upstairs collapsed under him.
“I shouted for him to come down. Things were falling. We didn’t know what to do. After the quake, we were too scared to stay. We ran to the fields with others.”
They were taken in by a neighbour who offered space in a tent on his property. Three families now live together in a makeshift shelter – a mill that’s no longer in use.
“I haven’t been able to eat. I’m terrified”
Though she wasn’t physically injured, the trauma of the quake has deeply affected Daw Pyone. “There was this emptiness in my chest,” she says. “I couldn’t eat. I was just terrified.”
Her sleep is disturbed. She can’t be left alone. Her head feels heavy. The anxiety lingers. “I think the children are playing and shaking the house like an earthquake. That’s how scared I am.”
Living in the tent offers some comfort, mainly because there are other families there. “It’s not safe,” she says, “but it’s better than my house.”
“We’re afraid of the earthquake, and of thieves”
Fear has become a constant companion. One night, a thief – armed and lurking – approached their shelter. The men chased him off, and he vanished into the night.
“They think we have something. We don’t. Just blankets and pillows. But they come anyway. What if they want what we don’t have? It could turn violent.”
It’s not just the tremors that keep her awake – it’s the fear of what might come in the dark.
The temporary shelter Daw Pyone and her family are staying at.
“I don’t dare go back into the house”
Though her home still stands, it’s badly damaged. The north and south walls have cracked, and the shrine shelf is barely hanging on. She won’t go upstairs. “I’m afraid it’ll collapse,” she says.
Her children want to keep the house. “They say, ‘This house was built by Dad.’ But I’m scared. I don’t want to go in.”
She dreams of repairing the walls with brick or stone, but she doesn’t know how or where to begin. “We need professionals. I have to discuss it with my sons. But what if there’s another quake?”
“I just want to get my blood transfusion”
More than anything, Daw Pyone is worried about her health. With hospitals overwhelmed, she fears she’ll be forgotten. “O negative is rare. One out of 100, they say. I have to buy it myself. And now, I don’t think they’ll have time for me.”
She’s considered asking the local monastery for help. “If they can’t get the blood in time, I don’t know what will happen.”
The cost of hospital rooms is rising too. “It’s hard. It was already hard before. Now it’s worse.”
A call for dignity and protection
Daw Pyone’s story is not unique. She is one of many older people caught in the intersection of poverty, poor health, and disaster, with little to no safety net. Her experience underscores the urgent need for humanitarian responses that include and prioritise older people.
For Daw Pyone, dignity, safety and access to healthcare are human rights – not luxuries. As the country begins to recover, we must ensure no one is left behind – especially those, like her, who are too often invisible in times of crisis.
The Myanmar earthquake crisis and humanitarian efforts
