And a poem by Wieke Vink
Tables under camouflage
If only kitchen tables could speak
They would tell the stories of
Camouflage under trees
Taking cover against
Gun shots and drones
Tales of warzone surgery
The wood would speak of doctors
Of wounded, of wounds
Of demarcation lines layered
Across kite-shaped land
Of following the river
Of lack of supplies
No ventilators
Limited blood to transfuse
Perhaps an X-ray or two
Close to where the fighting will be
Where medics still pull the tables along
Waiting for the calm before the storm
To support those in need
Indeed
If kitchen tables could speak
They might ask whether we might remember the map
Whether we understand the difference between wounding patterns
Do you remember, they ask,
When Myanmar was last on the news?
When was it, that others
At other tables
Took note
Of a land of millions of people
With rich colours and traditions
With histories intertwined across the globe
Listen, the tables would say
Really listen
Names might carry different meanings
But the meaning of a healing wound
Cannot be understated
No matter the allegiance or accusation
Of clandestine entry
Where a boat almost sank
Where once soldiers set foot
Under different jurisdiction
Now medics make their way
from Germany and the UK
And months later
On a hot summer night
At the Frontline Club in London
Photos of wooden tables tell tales
Of fathers and daughters
Of fathers following their fathers
Of fathers wanting to be role models for their sons
Determined to pass know-how on
So that we all know
People were not left alone
The brave ones were the young ones
Standing on generations of skill and resilience
Using First World War burr holes and on-the-spot thinking
Local organisers insisting on the importance of care distribution
A simple question, they say
Indispensable, say the tables
As a son brings the conviction
That doctors, nurses, anaesthetists
Should be trained
Should be equipped
With all the material
That their endurance calls for
We hear of faculty setting out new footsteps
On hours-long truck rides
For histories to not be repeated
But remedied
Not for gratitude or praise
But for healthcare’s accessibility
Listen, says the wood
There are tales of local doctors
Walking for miles
Dodging bullets
To gain life-saving knowledge
For there may be aerial superiority
But close to the ground, underground
There is the best of human reciprocity
In make-shift treatment units
With clinical practitioners working
With all their might
Moving from amputations
To limb-saving operations
Where the impact of anaesthesia
Is amplified
Through better distribution lines
And the impact of further learning
In a healthcare system
Which has been kept ill, kept target
Under decades of conflict
With fragmentation wounds
In both patients and infrastructure
Amidst full determination
Of those providing
Aid and access
On found furniture
On kitchen tables
Speakers pay homage to the local medics
Having navigated many
Ethical dilemmas
Young as they are
Caring, careful
Washing hands
Lighting candles
Carrying syringes
As a contribution to revolution
In a context
Of life pitted against life
Of medical studies interrupted
Yet new knowledge crucial, vital
For so many to survive
With elephants witnessing the work
Of doctors retreated into bunkers
Holding out against dreadful injuries
Holding onto democracy
Where vital signs are checked
Building on these initial foundations
Crafting out treatment plans through an oversupply of community connections
If tables could speak
They will tell us to speak up
For the people of Myanmar
For health, for aid, for immunisation
Where it may be David against Goliath
Yet Doctor David brings not stones
But teachings
Medical insights
Adapted to local realities
Where local faculty are the experts
Of their draining, self-sustaining contexts
The medics dotted around difficult terrain
Provided with mentoring and bedside teaching
Building colleagueship for this work to be sustained
So local staff can gain better skills more quickly
Putting plasters on gaps in knowledge from long before
Adapting to the patient on the table, on the floor
With roosters moving in the early morning
And skilled preparations for the protection of life
For ‘If we do nothing, he will almost certainly die’
But if we do anything, there’s a chance he might thrive
‘Are you the one with the most information about this patient?’
Asks a human to another human
Colleagues working together under the canopy
Professionals committed to their medical oath
Where a kitchen table is never just a kitchen table
It’s an operating table
It’s a study table
It’s a tangible, sturdy token of hope
This poem was written by London-based poet Wieke Vink, following the event ‘Mission to Myanmar’ at the Frontline Club in London on Thursday 2nd July 2026.
The poem reflects on the short movie shown at the event, as well as the panel event with Doctor David Nott and other speakers – local and international - who were part of David Nott Foundation’s recent medical mission to Eastern Myanmar.
Originally from the Netherlands, Wieke writes poetry in English in Dutch, infused with further multilingual influences. She has a background in law and psychology, and write about topics related to human rights, heritage and the stories of human lives.
More of her work can be found on @comm.unitypoetry on Instagram and @nooksofwonder on Substack.
Mission to Myanmar, the documentary was filmed by Carsten Stormer @carstenstormer on Instagram and edited by Ugne Deres @ugnederes on Instagram.
