Pilgrims climb the long stairs to Mingun Pahtodawgyi.

A MOB of children, aged between eight and 16, approach our pick up. Their faces smile but only hide for a few seconds their hard sales pitch as they attempt to aggressively offload incense sticks, Chinese-produced fans, local beads, thanaka, colourful rulers and jade in all shapes and sizes.

They are not pint-sized entrepreneurs, however, looking to make a fast buck and blow it all at the corner store. They peddle these goods to support their education. They are not like students in the cities – they have never heard of international schools. They are honest about who they are, what they are doing and why.

As soon as one of my Australian companions buys a ruler, a group of young boys and girls besiege him, imploring him to buy more. If you hesitate, you’re finished; looking at their genuine faces and listening to their nice manners, it’s almost impossible to say no. But somehow he breaks this spell. “I have bought many items already,” he says, clutching fans and jade bead bracelets.

These salesmen and women live nearby. On their holidays they come here, to Mingun Pahtodawgyi, a famous, semi-ruined pagoda on the west bank of the Ayeyarwady river, about 10 kilometres from downtown Mandalay.

King Bodawpaya started construction work on the massive, unfinished Mingun Pahtodawgyi, in 1790. Had it been completed, it would have been the largest pagoda in the world and is still one of main tourist sites in Myanmar.

We started our trip to Mingun at 7am, passing through many tollgates on the road out of Mandalay – at K200 a piece, it was getting to be an expensive venture.

The water level of the Ayeyarwady river is still high from recent floods and sandbags are strategically placed to protect the many vulnerable, low-lying areas that would be inundated if the water level rose again. One or two heavy machines wait idly for the next big rainfall.

On the other side of the road there are many wooden houses and the road is not only for transport but also a bank between water and home but every now and then it is powerless to stop the water invasion, our driver explains.

“This place is usually hit by flooding once or twice a year when the water level rises after it has rained heavily in the upper part of the country. Last years the whole area was flooded,” he says.

Our car passes some huts haphazardly arranged by the roadside. “These people have just moved here from lower-lying areas – their homes are now inundated. After the water recedes, they will go back to their houses again.”

Near the new Ayeyarwady Bridge, which links Mandalay and Sagaing, we notice many flat boats, little more than linked wooden poles, which are to carry teak logs from upriver. The raised water level is good news for the teak transportation because it reduces diesel consumption.

Just before arriving to the bridge, we break for a moment. I want my friend to meet the people who are carrying the earth to flat ship. Men and women work busily here, while their children play nearby, but one takes time out to explain to us what they’re doing.

“This earth is used in the production of cement. It came here by truck from Shan State and we earn K800 a day loading it onto the ship. Unfortunately, our pay hasn’t increased with commodity prices,” the man says somewhat despairingly.

When fully loaded the boats transport the earth downriver to the cement factories in Magwe division.

My friend is amazed when he hears they earn just K800 per day. “They should get more,” he suggests vaguely. In this area mostly people depend on natural resources for their living and basic needs – paddy, firewood, vegetables and catching fish and birds.

After crossing the bridge, our car turns off down the bumpy road to Mingun that follows the riverbank. Despite the fact the water level is high and river flowing strongly, we can see a group of children diving and swimming in the water to collect firewood floating in the river.

They are students. It’s a Sunday so they have no school – instead, they help their family by taking this risk. Beyond them, a few small boats are also collecting firewood.

It’s hard to believe Mandalay is just a few miles across the river. In this area, the people rely on trishaws and pony carts for transport, with the occasional three-wheeled motorbike. They are devoutly Buddhist and seem to be content living under the teachings of the Buddha.

Our pick up passes through villages that line the windy road – little more than clusters of huts, a few teashops and a small store – until we arrive at the towering, cracked pagoda. The huts are still there but now they sell Mingun souvenirs and cold drinks from ice buckets. And, of course, there are the children, like 12-year-old Ma Hnin, with their assortment of goodies.

“I am a grade five student. Today the school is closed so instead we sell these incense sticks to the pilgrims. The money is for our education,” she implores.

There are also the unofficial tour guides, who follow foreigners with delight up the steep steps of Mingun Pahtodawgyi, recalling the pagoda’s history and showing visitors the safe places to walk on the cracked, uneven summit. In the blazing sun, they even carry bundles of foliage for visitors to stand on. Their daily income is K2000 a day but it depends on the generosity of the pilgrim. Nearby, a monk watches them warily. Ma Phwe Phwe, a 13-year-old grade seven students, says this is to ensure they are not just begging for money.

“If the Sayadaw notices that someone is begging, he drives them away and never lets the come back. So we never just ask for money, instead we sell our souvenirs here. But we also realise that begging is not a good habit to get into – it would ruin our morality and pilgrims would look down on our town, on our country. We do not want them to look down on us so we always try to sell our items,” she says.