Yangon: March 13, 2025
Picture a misty morning in 1917, high in Myanmar’s Zomi Hills. The Zomi—tough, tight-knit folks who’d spent generations farming and hunting—were about to enter a story more significant than their wildest tales. A British officer, F.O. Fowler, clomped into Tedim with a pitch: join the war effort in France. Over a thousand Zomi men said yes, trading their bamboo huts for a journey to land them in the muddy trenches of Europe. This is how the Zomi and France got tangled up in World War I—a gritty, surprising partnership still kicking up dust today.
The Call to Arms—or Shovels
World War I hit like a storm on August 3, 1914, tearing through Europe and leaving 15 million dead in its wake. Britain, with its empire flexing hard, rounded up 908,371 soldiers from far-flung corners like India and Egypt. France, meanwhile, was gasping for help on the Western Front, its fields scarred and its men stretched thin. That’s where the Labour Corps came in—unsung heroes from places like Egypt (100,000), India (21,000), South Africa (20,000), and China (50,000, though only 2,000 got the nod). And then there were the Zomi.
Fowler hit Tedim in January 1917, leaning on an old 1891 deal to recruit 1,033 men—about 3% of the 30,000-strong Tedim and Tonzang population, per the 1911 census. These weren’t fighters but workers, lured with promises of cash (Rs.20 to Rs.100 by rank), medals, and 30 acres of land back home. Clans like Kam Hau (700), Sukte (250), and Sihzang (83) stepped up, rallied by local bigwig Ukpi Hau Cin Khup. After three months of drills with the Falam Zomi Military Police, they were off. On May 15, 1917, they marched out of Tedim—khaki-clad, hearts pounding—bound for a world they’d only heard whispers of.
Their trek was epic: Rangoon by June 8, Bombay by June 28, then a whirlwind through Yemen, Egypt, and Italy, hitting Marseilles, France, on August 14. For these hill boys, who’d never seen a steamship, the sight of the Mediterranean must’ve been like landing on the moon.
Digging in France, Singing Through the Chaos—and Soaking Up the French
In France, the Zomi landed in camps like Bikot and Brazil, rubbing elbows with 50,000 other laborers across the empire. They shoveled trenches, lugged supplies, and patched roads while shells rained. It was grueling—mud up to their knees, danger at every turn—but they carved out a slice of home. In April 1918, they threw the “Lawm Annek Pawi,” a bash with pork, rice wine, and songs like “Piantit La”: “Oh, the land of France, where the deer roam free, may our paths stretch long.” It was their anchor in the chaos.
But it wasn’t just work and war. France opened their eyes wide. They wandered French villages between shifts, tasting bread that wasn’t rice, hearing church bells instead of gongs, and watching locals sip wine like it was water. Some swapped stories with French farmers, picking up words like “merci” and “bonjour”—a far cry from their Tedim tongue. Others marveled at cobblestone streets and stone houses, different from their wooden longhouses. Missionaries they met in the camps sparked a faith shift, too—Christianity took root, blooming from 500 believers in 1918 to 4,046 by 1924 back home. They even played football with French soldiers, kicking around a ball in muddy fields—a taste of camaraderie that stuck with them.
Twenty-three didn’t make it back, their names etched in Zomi memory. But the survivors? They got props—certificates for guts and loyalty, and five leaders (Pa Pau Za Cin, Pa Thawng Za Kai, Pa Song Theu, Pa Vial Zen, Pa Mang Pau) scored silver medals from King George V in November 1918. Earlier, on March 11, 1918, a few shook the king’s hand at Buckingham Palace, wide-eyed Zomi in a gilded hall, tying their hilltop roots to Europe’s heart.
What They Brought Back—and Left Behind
By August 1918, 1,010 trudged home, lugging khaki gear, football tales, and a new worldview. That French exposure reshaped Zogam—military pride birthed the First Chin (Zomi) Battalion in 1921, and those hymns and bread loaves fueled a Christian boom. Their songs about France wove into Zomi lore, a thread of connection to a far-off land. For France, the Zomi were a quiet boost—hands that steadied a crumbling front, leaving a mark more significant than they knew.
Today’s Ties: Obligations, Opportunities—and a Meeting in Yangon
Zoom to 2025, and that Zomi-French thread’s still humming. On March 11, 2025, just two days ago, the French Embassy in Yangon hosted a meeting that brought it all full circle. “Through the efforts of the French Embassy, the Chargé d’Affaires and Political Counselor met with Zomi representatives from Zomi Congress for Democracy to discuss the history of the Zomi volunteers who went to France, current Myanmar politics, and other significant matters, led by the Party President, in a warm gathering on March 11, 2025,” according to the official Facebook page of ZCD.
The Zomi and France collided in 1917’s muck, a bond of sweat and song that outlasted the war. From tasting French bread to meeting in Yangon this week, it’s a story of guts and grit. As I write this on March 13, 2025, it’s clear: this isn’t just history—it’s a living tie. Whether it’s a Zomi teen in Marseille tracing her roots or a French diplomat in the Zomi land with a medal’s twin, this partnership’s got juice. Let’s keep it humming.
Sources:
Omniglot’s Tedim Language (omniglot.com) – Cracking the Zomi code.
Zomi Pedia (zomipedia.org) – Zomi roots, raw and real.
Wikipedia’s History of the UK in WWI – The war’s big frame.
G.K. Nang’s Zomite’ Khuamuh Ciilna (vaphual.net, 2010) – Zomi heart on paper.
Zomi in World Wars (sialki.wordpress.com) – Straight from the hills.