When a powerful earthquake struck Myanmar in March, entire communities were left reeling. Buildings cracked, homes collapsed, and thousands were displaced overnight.
For older people like U Tin Win, a retired district law officer, the disaster didn’t just destroy property – it unravelled the fragile threads of dignity, stability, and family unity. This is his story – told not through headlines, but through the quiet, resilient voice of a man who has lost almost everything yet refuses to give up on his family or his future.
A life of service and a family reunited by loss
U Tin Win, 76, spent his working life upholding justice as a district law officer. Since retiring in 2009, he had lived with his wife and two daughters in Nay Pyi Taw. But when his wife passed away five years ago, the family’s circumstances began to shift. One of his daughters, employed by the Municipal Development Committee, helped them secure a modest apartment – just the ground floor of a house – where they made do with what little they had.
Three generations of his family were living together once more: his daughter, her husband, their two young children, and his mother-in-law, whose now-defunct business had left behind pieces of furniture and memories. Then the earthquake struck, bringing even this fragile arrangement to its knees.
“Boom, boom, boom”: the day the earth moved
It was just another afternoon when the ground began to shake violently. U Tin Win was in the kitchen preparing lunch; his daughter was in the bathroom; his grandchildren, unusually, were not playing outside but lying on the bed.
I went spinning. I tried to hold on, but it was shaking so much that I hit my back on the brass frame. I couldn’t move for five days.
As the quake continued, the family ran outside, fearing the worst. With their apartment deemed unsafe, they had no choice but to sleep on the pavement, exposed to the elements, unable even to hang a mosquito net. “We sat there till the next morning,” he said. “There was no other option.”
No shelter, no income, no choice
After several nights sleeping under mango trees, they returned to their damaged home. Repairs and reconstruction would cost more than 100 lakh kyat (approximately $4,760). The family couldn’t afford it. “We do what we can,” he said quietly.
With their apartment in ruins and the replacement housing too small and unsuitable for a family – cooking was not even allowed – they returned to their old neighbourhood. But renting again came at a steep cost. The house is now overcrowded, shared by his daughter and grandchildren, and under repair. Yet they had no other option. “A place to stay is the most important thing for me now,” he said. “We’re cramped, but we must make do.”
Living with pain and holding onto dignity
The injury to U Tin Win’s back is still causing pain. “I can’t sit for long,” he explained, though he hasn’t been able to afford a visit to the clinic. But physical pain is not the only burden.
This is the biggest loss of my life. We lost everything. I just wanted to live peacefully with my family in my final years.
What little the family earns now comes from combining his pension with contributions from his daughters. They make do with food donations – bags of rice, a few litres of water – and rely on the generosity of neighbours. A former judge, his older sister, sent 50 lakhs (approximately $2,380) from her savings to help cover the cost of repairs. “But even that is not enough,” he sighed. “The longer this goes on, the poorer we get.”
Struggling with support, remembering a life of giving
In the face of loss, what hurts U Tin Win the most is the reversal of roles. “I used to be the one giving. I always donated. Now I have to take.” His voice trembles. “I lived with dignity. I retired as an officer. Now we’re at rock bottom. It hurts – it hurts so bad.”
Survival, faith and worry for the future
He finds strength in Buddhist teachings, but he is haunted by what the future holds for his grandchildren.
We’re already dead people at our age. But I worry about them.
He looks after the children while his daughters work, doing what housework he can. Despite everything, his priority remains their safety, their food, and their education.
A call for inclusion and protection
U Tin Win’s story is not unique. Across Myanmar, older people have been disproportionately affected by the earthquake. Yet their needs are often overlooked in emergency responses. Access to shelter, food, income, and healthcare are basic rights that must not be denied based on age.
“Even now,” he said, “we don’t have any income. We have no choice but to keep going.”
His voice is a powerful reminder that older people are not just victims of disaster – they are providers, carers, and community pillars. As Myanmar recovers, their stories must be heard, and their rights respected.
The Myanmar earthquake crisis and humanitarian efforts
