Having lost her parents, siblings, and school to the deadly cyclone that struck Myanmar in early May, Nway's future is uncertain.

June 2008

The school season officially starts on June 2 this year. But for many children who survived the cyclone, school is a distant memory.

This time last year was the most exciting time of Nway's life. It was her first-ever week at school, and she joined 50 other children in the kindergarten class at the school in her village of Nat Sin.

"I loved to go to school," says Nway, with an endearing smile.

Nway used to play with her friend in the open space in front of the school. She used to shout out the new words and songs she'd learned. Surrounded by rice paddies and an inlet of the Bogale River, the one-story brick school in this small delta village was a paradise for the 7-year-old girl.

But one year later, the school where she used to have fun with books and games is lying in pieces on the ground. Even worse, she has no home or family left. Cyclone Nargis has taken everything away from Nway.

These days, Nway comes here not to learn, but to search through the debris, the adults of her village too busy rebuilding to continue any form of education for their children.

Normalcy turned to terror

Nway's family was typical of the delta village — six people living in a little wood and bamboo house built in a rice paddy who earned their living growing rice. The village is near the town of Bogale. Nway was the second youngest.

As her house was a bit small for the whole family, Nway often slept at her aunt's house, a wooden house on stilts located beside the only main road of the village.

On the evening of May 2, she was with her aunt. The wind started blowing around 4 p.m., but villagers thought it was just a normal thunderstorm.

The water started rising over the next few hours as the wind became more ferocious.

"When the water entered the house, I placed Nway in a wooden box, thinking it might save her," recalled Nway's aunt. "But later, I changed my mind and took her back into my arms."

In the dark, after a few hours of tearing wind and rain, the storm slowed. Most houses in the villages had already lost their roofing, and the water was up to five feet deep. Villagers thought the worst was over. But after about a half-hour break, the wind came again from a different direction. This time, it was even more fierce.

"As our house started breaking down, my uncle took me to the house of the village head," recalled Nway. "It was totally dark but very noisy. We fell into the water several times. Water came into my mouth."

A devastating scenario

More than 100 villagers squeezed into the house of the village head that night. They tightly stood up, praying in fear. The water was now up to 10 feet.

But luckily, just after midnight, the wind stopped. This time, nobody dared to go outside. Injured and frightened, they waited for the dawn.

When the sun came up, they found out that the village head's house was the only one remaining. Many family members were missing. They searched and only recovered dead bodies under the debris. A quarter of the population of 400 perished, most of them women and children. Among them were Nway's parents and her three siblings.

The post-storm period was as hard as the storm itself. Nothing was left. What the wind blew down, the tidal surge swept away — rice, household utensils, farming tools, cows, buffaloes, and even clothing.

Nway remembers eating a meal on May 3. "I don't know what it was, but it was plain white and very salty," she recalls. In the next few days, the survivors ate and drank just coconuts. Then, realizing no help was on its way yet, the women and children were sent to other nearby villages where at least water could be found.

Taking shelter at one of those villages, Nway received food and clothing. Among the gifts, the yellow silk blouse she wears is her favorite. When World Vision arrived at the village of Nat Sin with much-needed rice and household items, the villagers who had left could return.

'It's like the Stone Age'

Throughout, the farmers of the village have been trying to rebuild their lives, even though they have had almost no outside assistance. Normally, this would be a time for new planting, with men and animals working in the field while children return to school. But the rice paddy walls have split. The fields are empty, and the school is gone.

"It's like the Stone Age," said the village head, tears forming in his eyes. "Burying the dead bodies has become our daily business. We can't feel it any more."

Even on May 29 — nearly a month after the storm — three more unrecognizable bodies of a woman and two children were found under a pile of debris.

When Nway was asked about her future dreams, the girl hesitantly answered: "I want to be a doctor."

Challenging times ahead

But that dream seems a long way off. The middle school of Nat Sin served more than 1,000 children from that village and surrounding areas. Now, only a pile of green colored wood and brick remains. Chairs, desks, benches, and blackboards were all washed away. Three of 20 teachers who worked at the school had been killed, with some still missing. Nobody has yet counted how many children from the school died.

People from Myanmar are very familiar with the Burmese phrase, "Ko Htu Ko Hta," roughly translated as "with our own effort." They often manage to build basic infrastructures like roads and schools with their own community budget.

But when a village elder and member of the school managing committee was asked about reconstruction, the answers were not encouraging.

"In the past, we built this school with our own money for the sake of our children," explained the elder. "But now, without outside help, there's no way to rebuild it."

"This time, no 'Ko Htu Ko Hta,'" he said, disappointed and sad.