Phyu Phyu Win expertly bounces a cane-ball up and down on her foot while twirling a ribbon.

THE little cane-ball bounces up and down for several minutes on the instep of a beautifully elongated right foot. It is then switched to the left foot, before being thrown up high in the air and rebounded off the head.

The cane-ball goes up and down repeatedly, revolving in the air and then bouncing back to some part of the body – the head, knees, heels or insteps.

So amazed are spectators to find that it is a young woman, 34-year-old Phyu Phyu Win, and not a man that is manipulating the cane-ball or chinlon, as it is known, with such precision, that they stand in stunned silence for several seconds almost forgetting to clap once the performance is over.

“Since the time of the Myanmar kings, it’s been a tradition that men play cane-ball but it is odd for a woman to play it,” Phyu Phyu Win, who has devoted herself since the age of seven to playing cane-ball, says.

She started learning the art of the chinlon when a former master cane-ball player, U Thein Tun rented out an apartment in her family’s house.
“Having a master of cane-ball in my house brought me a great chance,” she says.

Since then she has trained tirelessly to get to where she is today — a Yangon Division Cane-ball Champion for several years running whose skill is acknowledged throughout the country.

She is recognised not just for being a female chinlon player but for being highly skilled, and she regularly wins against men in competitions.

At 19, she was chosen by the Ministry of Culture to travel to Bangladesh, France, India and Thailand to demonstrate the art of playing the cane-ball.
“I received incredible applause from spectators there. It was unbelievable,” she exclaims proudly.

She says she has had to sacrifice her education and other opportunities to reach the top.

“I couldn’t go to school regularly and I couldn’t pay attention to the lessons because I had to go around the country, performing with the cane-ball,” she explains.

“Even my parents didn’t go to work so they could accompany me wherever I went.”

But she has no regrets.

“If I can not play cane-ball one day,” she says, “I’ll work as a cane-ball trainer, teaching the art to others for my living,”

She practices every evening and during the day performs, using every part of her body to keep the cane-ball in the air.

In her performances she shows off bouncing different-sized balls, and is even able to keep a cane-ball in the air while balancing on one foot on the top of a glass bottle.

Not surprisingly, her demonstrations are always a hit, with audiences.

“Patience is vitally important if one wants to become a cane-ball expert,” she says.

“Without patience, we cannot play it, for playing cane-ball is an art.”
But she adds that there is also a spiritual aspect to the game.

The massive Wazo Cane-ball Festival held near the great Maha Myat Muni Buddha image in Mandalay every year, is a way of paying homage to the image.

There more than 500 cane-ball teams, who go there every year, do so to pay respect to the image.

Her team of five players, all men apart from herself, never miss the festival, she says, and this year will be no different.

Even now at the peak of her career, she worries what will happen when she retires, whether the younger generations will take over to keep her art alive.

“Most fresh players are eager to learn how to play cane-ball, so they ask me to teach them. But just a few trainees keep going after about a month,” she says.

Few are interested in putting in the hours of practice necessary to become a professional that she has.