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Message-ID: <369010DC.84C2E97B@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Date: Sun, 03 Jan 1999 17:52:44 -0700
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To: "Conference reg.burma" <burmanet-l@xxxxxxxxxxx>
Subject: Under the Dragon ( 2 )
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Excerpts from the book " Under the Dragon " written by Rory MacLean
******************************************************

Published by HarperCollins Publishers 1998

About the author
-----------------

For 10 years the memory of a chance to visit to Burma has haunted Rory
MacLean. Ten years ago its people rose up against their military
dictatorship. The unarmed demonstrators were cut down, leaving more than
five thousand people dead.

In " Under the Dragon " , MacLean returns to the betrayed land,
travelling from a decaying Rangoon to the heart of the golden triangle,
meeting the victims and perpetrators of the uprising. He rides with a
hill tribe warlord, shares tea with a government censor and is trapped
into a karaoke evening with a group of singing businessmen. He learns
about the economics of the heroin trade and the tragedy of child
prostitution. He meets the most courageous and principled woman of our
age " Aung San Suu Kyi ", imprisoned leader of the democratic party.
And on his journey , he unravels a paradox of selfless generosity and
sinister greed in a country stitched together by love and fear.


Under the Dragon ( 2 )
*****************

The author's meeting with " Aung San Suu Kyi "

She wore an elegant purple longyi. her fine black hair was woven around
yellow blossoms. She asked us about our travels. I responded by praising
the generosity of individuals. She told us that, as visitors, we would
not have seen their fear.

' we have sensed it,' I replied, ' and have tried to understand.'
' We've seen a great deal of personal courage,' said Katrin.

In a light voice, at once controlled and thoughtful, she said," That is
what we must do; maximise courage, minimise fear.'
Behind her an NLD- National League for Democracy - supporter wore a
T-shirt which read ' Fear is a habit; I am not afraid'.

I didn't ask " Aung San Suu Kyi " any probing question. I didn't query
her about her clarity or her faith. I didn't pry into her sox years of
imprisonment, into aching isolation from her husband and sons.The
questions had all been asked before. Instead I wanted to give something
to her.
***So I told her what we had seen; that the people needed her, that they
felt her love protected them, even if she might not be able to free
them, that she was the embodiment of their hope.
I tried to tell her that she upheld the only force, apart from fear and
greed, strong enough to bind the diverse Burmese into one nation. She
knew all this, of course, though she was too courteous to say so, but it
was all that I had to offer ***

Her kind, determined eyes were set in a slim, delicate face. ' We will
get there in the end,' he told us, the good mother convinced that the
family would prevail, ' but it will take time.'

On our journey we had fought against bad roads and bureaucracy, against
evil and illness. The physical effort of travel had so exhausted us, and
the hygiene had been so poor, that our nails and hair had stopped
growing. We had battled to communicate in a system designed to hinder
interaction, to isolate individuals and to cripple free thought.

BUT , we had had a choice. When it suited us, we had the freedom to
leave, to step onto an aircraft, to fly out of the country. We could
forget the greed, fear and waste. I could write up my notes in public,
eat clean food without fear of infection, say " Aung San Suu Kyi's "
name out loud.

And it made us so sad.

Yet the Burmese showed no envy or bitterness towards us, despite our
liberty of movement.
We are welcomed, as I had been welcomed ten years before, as family.




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