When my father was younger, this is what his house looked like. I asked my father about his life when he lived in Burma. When he was little, he lived with his parents and six siblings in this house which they built. My father would help his parents. Every day he would go on a small boat with his brother to pick vegetables and go fishing on the river to catch fish to cook for dinner. On the other days he would be helping out his parents on the farm with the crops. The meat they ate, like chickens, ducks or swine, were all raised by my dad and his parents. The animals were not injected with chemicals to make them grow bigger or faster; they were all raised naturally. When he was little, he had no worries; he only knew how to help out his parents, go have fun, and go to school. My father doubts his place still exists. He hasn’t gone to visit since the Burmese came and destroyed it over twenty years ago. He escaped from Burma when he was 20. He went to Thailand. That’s where I was born. My dad and I came to this country in 2016. My dad came here with his memories of Burma. Now I, his daughter, have painted his memories of his life in Burma for all of us to see here in the United States.
– LEAP High School Student