Letters from Burma
by
Aung San Suu Kyi
November
1995-December 1996
This series was
carried in the Monday morning editions of the Mainichi Shimbun
and in the Mainichi Daily News from 27 November, 1995 to 9 December, 1996
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
November 27, 1995
SEEDS OF DEMOCRACY FLOWERS IN
RURAL BURMA
"The
Road to Thamanya (1)"
Twenty
miles from the town of
In 1980 the Venerable U Vinaya, a
69 - year-old Buddhist monk of Pa - o extraction, went up the hill to the site
of two ruined stupas that had stood at the summit for centuries. Stirred by
feelings of deep devotion the aging monk decided to remain near the site of the
long neglected stupas. Now 15 years later the extraordinary
"ordinary" hill of Thamanya is known throughout
Two weeks ago I made a trip outside
At about
The road had become worse as we
came further and further away from
Around
(This is the first in a year - long series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
today)
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
December 4, 1995
Glimpses of History and
Untamed Beauty
"Road to Thamanya (2)"
The country we had been going through was rocky. At Mokpalin we had passed a rock quarry where, I was told, convicts were usually to be seen working. We saw none on our way to Thamanya, but on our way back we saw two men in white with chains on their legs trotting along the roadway, shouldering a pole from which hung large baskets full of broken rock.
In the vicinity of Kyaik - hto is
the Kyaik - htiyoe pagoda. It is only 15 feet in height but it is one of the
most famous religious monuments in
There are rubber plantations all
along the route from the Sittang bridge until the town
of
Once upon a time Thaton with its twilight air was a thriving capital and a famous center for Buddhism, ruled over by the Mon King Manuha, a monarch who commanded the respect of friend and foe alike. Although he was defeated in battle and carried away as a captive by King Anawratha of Pagan, Manuha's personal stature remained undiminished. Popular Burmese history has it that even in defeat his glory was so manifest, every time Manuha made obeisance to Anawratha, the victor king broke out into a goose flesh of fear. In the end, it is said, Anawratha managed to destroy Manuha's glory by underhanded means.
In Pagan today there still remains the Manuha stupa with dedication by the captive king praying that he might never again, in any of his future lives, be defeated by another. The sympathetic account given of King Manuha is one of the most admirable parts of Burmese history, demonstrating a lack of ethnic prejudice and unstinting respect for a noble enemy.
From Thaton we continued to travel
in an easterly direction and at about
There is an untamed beauty about the lands around Pa-an. The area is notable for its striking hills that rise sheer from the ground. In some of the hills are caves in which old Mon inscriptions, images and pagodas have been found. It was in one of these caves that a queen of Manuha took refuge after the defeat of her husband. It is believed that this queen later moved, for greater security, to the foot of "Paddy Seed Hill" and that it was she who had the two pagodas constructed on its summit.
As we approached Thamanya, the
quiet seemed to deepen. It was difficult to imagine that we were close to areas
which have served as battlefields for most of the last 50 years. Fighting had
broken out between government troops and Karen insurgents almost as soon as
The Hsayadaw of Thamanya is a vegetarian and only vegetarian food is served in his domain. It is customary for those making the journey to Thamanya to start eating vegetarian food at least the day before they set out. We too had been eating vegetarian food and we felt full of health and calm self - satisfaction as we covered the last lap of our journey. Suddenly it occurred to us that the quietness and feeling of ease had to do with something more than the beauties of nature or our state of mind. We realized that the road had become less rough. Our vehicle was no longer leaping from crater to rut and we were no longer rolling around like peas in a basin.
As soon as we passed under the
archway that marked the beginning of the domain of Thamanya, we noted that the
road was even better, a smooth, well - kept black ribbon winding into the
distance. The difference between the road we had traveled and the road on which
we now found our- selves struck all of us. This road had been built and
maintained by the Hsayadaw for the convenience of the villagers who lived
around the hill and of the pilgrims who came in their tens and thousands each
year. It was far superior to many a highway to be found in
(This is the second in a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.)
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Sunday, December 10, 1995
THAMANYA: A PLACE
"At Thamanya (1)"
It
was
The Hsayadaw divides his time between two monastic residences, one at the foot of the hill and one near the summit. He received us in the audience chamber of the residence at the foot of the hill. I was about to describe the Hsaydaw as tall and well-built, then my eyes fell on his photograph and it occurred to me that he was not physically as large as the image impressed on my mind, that in fact he was somewhat frail. Perhaps it was the aura of protective strength around him that made him seem bigger than he actually was. There is a Burmese saying:
Ten thousand birds can perch on one good
tree.
The Hsayadaw is as a strong, upright tree spreading out stout branches thickly covered with leaves and laden with fruit, offering shelter and sustenance to all who come under his shade.
On and around the hill which was barely inhabited little more than a decade ago there now live over 400 monks and between 200 and 300 women ascetics, all cared for by the Hsayadaw. In addition everybody who comes to the hill can eat flavorsome vegetarian meals without any payment. Many of the villagers who live within the domain come daily for their food. On holidays when pilgrims flood in, more than 60 sacks of rice have to be cooked and almost a whole drum of oil goes into the curries. The /Hsayadaw/ is very particular about using only peanut oil in the interest of the health of his hordes of visitors.
There is a large shed in which 20 men cook rice in giant steamers made of concrete. In the kitchen, appetizing-looking curries bubble and simmer in huge wok-shaped vessels; the spoons, carved out of wood, are larger than shovels and the spatulas used for stirring are as big as rowing boat oars. Not far from the kitchen some people are engaged in making meat substitute from a type of yam. It is not difficult to be a vegetarian at Thamanya: the food, cooked with generosity and care, is both wholesome and delicious. The day or our arrival we had two lunches, one specially prepared for us and one in the pilgrims' dining hall. The second lunch consisted of just a few dishes but these were not inferior in taste to the banquet-like meal we had first eaten and replete as we were, we found it no hardship to do justice to the food of the pilgrims.
But food is not primarily what the Hsayadaw provides for those who come within his ken.
The first question he asked me after we had made our obeisances was whether I had come to him because I wanted to get rich. No, I replied, I was not interested in getting rich. He went on to explain the greatest treasure to be gained was that of nirvana. How naive I was to have imagined that the Hsayadaw would have been referring to material riches. He spoke in parables to teach us the fundamental principles of Buddhism. But there was nothing affected about him and his deeply spiritual nature did not exclude a sense of humor.
The Hsayadaw seldom leaves Thamanya but he displays astonishing knowledge of all that is going on throughout the country. He combines with traditional Buddhist values a forward-looking attitude, prepared to make use of modern technology in the best interests of those who have come under his care. There are a number of strong, useful cars in Thamanya in which the Hsayadaw's active young monk assistants go dashing around the domain checking on the road construction projects.
The Hsayadaw himself also goes out everyday (driven in a Pajero donated by one of his devotees, vastly superior to our borrowed vehicle) to encourage the workers and to give them snack, pan (a preparation of betel leaf, lime and areca nuts) and cheroots. The sight of his serene face and the tangible proof of his concern for them seems to spur on the workers to greater efforts.
Whenever the Hsayadaw goes
through his domain people sink down on their knees on the roadside and make
obeisance, their faces bright with joy. Young and old alike run out of their
homes as soon as they spot his car coming, anxious not to miss the opportunity
of receiving his blessing.
Letter From Burma
By Aung San Suu Kyi
Thamanya: A Place
"At Thamanya (2)"
"Love and truth can move
people more than coercion"
On our second day at Thamanya we
rose at
When we stepped out into the street it was still dark. Going out before dawn had been a constant feature of the campaign trips I had undertaken between the autumn of 1988 and the time when I was placed under house arrest. But I have never ceased to be moved by the sense of the world lying quiescent and vulnerable, waiting to be awakened by the light of the new day quivering just beyond the horizon.
The Hsayadaw had spent the night at his residence on the hill and when we went up he came out of his small bedroom, his face clear and his eyes bright. With a glowing smile he spoke of the importance of looking upon the world with joy and sweetness. After we had served the Hsayadaw his breakfast we went to offer lights at the twin pagodas on the summit of the hill. On the platform around the pagodas were a few people who had spent the whole night there in prayer. There is a beauty about candlelight that cannot be equaled by the most subtle electric lamps; and there is an immense satisfaction about setting the flames dancing on 50 white candles, creating a blazing patch of brightness in the gray of early morning. It was an auspicious start to the working day.
I had expressed an interest in
seeing the two schools within the domain of Thamanya and after breakfast
(another vegetarian banquet) we were greatly surprised and honored to learn
that the Hsayadaw himself would be taking us to look at the institutions. He is
very conscious of the importance of education and arranges for the pupils to be
brought in by bus from the outlying areas. First we went to the middle school
at
The elementary school is in Thayagone village and on our way there we stopped to pick up some children who sat in our car demurely with suppressed glee on their faces, clutching their bags and lunch boxes. When we reached the school they tumbled out merrily and we followed them along a picturesque lane overhung with flowering climbers. The school itself is a long, low bungalow, smaller than the middle school, and there are only three teachers in charge of 230 pupils. As at Wekayin, roasted beans were distributed and the little ones munched away in silence while the Hsayadaw told us of his plans to replace both schools with more solid brick buildings and we discussed ways and means of providing adequate teaching materials.
All too soon it was time for us to leave Thamanya. The Hsayadaw came halfway with us along the road leading out of his domain. Before he turned back we queued up beside his car to take our leave and he blessed each of us individually.
There was much for us to think
about as we drove away toward Paan. (We were no longer in the Pajero: It had
been sent ahead with the heaviest members of our party in it in the hope that
their combined weight would help to keep it from plunging too wildly.) The mere
contrast between the miles of carelessly constructed and ill maintained roads
we had traveled from
This is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
By Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, December 25, 1995
THE PEACOCK AND THE DRAGON
The 10th day of the
waning moon of Tazaungdine marks National Day in
This year the 75th anniversary of National Day fell on Nov. 16. A committee headed by elder politicians and prominent men of letters was formed to plan the commemoration ceremony. It was decided that the celebrations should be on a modest scale in keeping with our financial resources and the economic situation of the country. The program was very simple; some speeches, the presentation of prizes to those who had taken part in the essay competitions organized by the National League for Democracy, and the playing of songs dating back to the days of the independence struggle. There was also a small exhibition of photographs, old books and magazines.
An unseasonable rain had been
falling for several days before the 16th but on the morning of National Day
itself the weather turned out to be fine and dry. Many of the guests came clad
in pinni, a hand-woven cotton cloth that ranges in color from a flaxen beige through varying shades of apricot and orange
to burnt umber. During the independence struggle pinni had acquired the same
significance in
The sight on the 75th anniversary of National Day too was a proud and joyous one. The guests were not all clad in pinni but there was about them a brightness that was pleasing to both the eye and the heart. The younger people were full of quiet enthusiasm and the older ones seemed rejuvenated. A well-known student politician of the 1930s who had become notorious in his mature years for the shapeless shirt, shabby denim trousers, scuffed shoes (gum boots during the monsoons) and battered hat in which he would tramp around town was suddenly transformed into a dapper gentleman in full Burmese national costume. All who knew him were stunned by the sudden picture of elegance he represented and our photographer hastened to record such an extraordinary vision.
The large bamboo and thatch
pavilion that had been put up to receive the thousand guests was decorated with
white banners on which were printed the green figure of a dancing peacock. As a
backdrop to the stage too there was a large dancing peacock, delicately
executed on a white disc. This is the symbol of the students who had first
awoken the political consciousness of the people of
The orchestra had arrived a little
late as there had been an attempt to try to persuade the musicians not
to perform at our celebration. But there spirits had not been dampened. They
stayed on after the end of the official ceremony to play and sing nationalist
songs from the old days. The most popular of these was Nagani. Red Dragon
Nagani was the name of a book club founded by a group of young politicians in
1937 with the intentions of making works on politics, economics, history and
literature accessible to the people of
(This is one of a yearlong series of
letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the
same day, or the previous day in some areas.)
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi
Daily News
Sunday, December 31, 1995
PRISON WALLS AFFECT THOSE ON
THE OUTSIDE, TOO
"Young Birds Outside Cages"
There
is a well-known book by Ludu U Hla, one of the foremost literary figures of
modern
ęThroughout the years of my house arrest my family was living in a freed society and I could rest assures that they were economically secure and safe from any kind of persecution. The vast majority of my colleagues who were imprisoned did not have the comfort of such an assurance. They knew well that their families were in an extremely vulnerable position, in constant danger of interrogations, house searches, general harassment and interference with their means of livelihood. For those prisoners with young children it was particularly difficult.
In
Two years is a long time in the life of a child. It is long enough to forget a parent who has vanished from sight. It is long enough for boys and girls to grow up into young adolescents. It is long enough to turn a carefree youngster into a troubled human being. Fifteen minutes once a fortnight is not enough to reverse the effects on a child of the sudden absence of one of the two people to whom it has habitually looked for protection and guidance. Nor is it enough to bridge the gap created by a long separation.
A political prisoner failed to recognize in the teen-ager who came to see him on the first family visit after more than two years in detention the young son he had left behind. It was a situation that was familiar to me. When I saw my younger son again for the first time after a separation of two years and seven months he had changed from a round faced not-quite-12-year-old into a rather stylish "cool' teen-ager. If I had met him in the street I would not have known him for my little son.
Political prisoners have to speak to their families through a double barrier of iron grating and wire netting so that no physical contact is possible. The children of one political prisoner would make small holes in the netting and push their fingers through to touch their father. When the holes got visibly large the jail authorities had them patched up with thin sheets of tin. The children would start all over again trying to bore a hole through to their father: it is not the kind of activity one would wish for any child.
I was not the only woman political
detainee in
Some children who went to elitist schools found that their schoolmates avoided them and that even teachers treated them with a certain reserve: it did not do to demonstrate sympathy for the offspring of political prisoners and it was considered particularly shocking if the prisoner was a woman. Some children were never taken on visits to prison as it was thought the experience would be too traumatic for them so for years they were totally deprived of all contact with their mothers. Some children who needed to be reassured that their mothers still existed would be taken on a visit to the prison only to be deeply disturbed by the sight of their mothers looking wan and strange in their white jail garb.
When the parents are released from
prison it is still not the end of the story. The children suffer from a gnawing
anxiety that their fathers and mothers might once again be taken away and
placed out of their reach behind several barriers of brick and iron. They have
known what it is like to be young birds fluttering
helplessly outside the cages that shut their parents away from them. They know
that there will be security for their families as long as freedom of thought
and freedom of political action are not guaranteed by the law of the land.
This is one of a yearlong series of
letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the
same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, January 8, 1996
INFLATION IS A SUBJECT THAT
INTERESTS EVERYBODY
"Breakfast Blues"
One
of the most popular topics of conversation in
Those for whom inflation is the
worst enemy are the housewives who have to make a limited income stretch to
cover the basic everyday needs of the family. A visit to the bazaar becomes an
obstacle race where the shopper has to negotiate carefully between brick walls
of impossible prices and pitfalls of substandard goods. After an exhausting
session of shopping the housewife goes back home and struggles to produce meals
which her family can enjoy, trying to think up substitutes for the more
expensive ingredients which she has been forced to strike off her shopping
list. To understand the difficulties of housekeeping, let us look at what it
involves to produce just the first meal of the day. Breakfast for many people
in
The breakfast fried rice for many families has now taken on an anemic hue. There is not likely to e any meat or shrimps left over from supper, eggs or Chinese sausage would be an extravagance and even steamed beans, once the humble man's food, are no longer cheap.
The price of chicken six years ago was 100 kyats a viss (about 1.6 kilograms), now it is 400 kyats. Mutton that cost 150 kyats is also 400 kyats now. Pork has gone up from 70 kyats to 280 kyats. The smallest shrimps which cost about 40 kyats in the late 1980s now cost over 100 kyats, which the price of medium-size prawns has gone up from about 100 kyats a viss to over 200 a viss. And giant prawns now over 1,000 kyats a viss have entirely disappeared from the tables of all except the very wealthy.
At such prices few families are
able to cook sufficient meat to satisfy the whole family for one meal, let
alone to have enough left over for the breakfast fried rice. Eggs are not a
ready substitute either as the price of an egg has also leapt up, from about 1
kyat each before 1990 to 6 kyats at present. And Chinese pork sausages which
can be so conveniently sliced up and thrown in to provide flavor and sustenance
have become almost a luxury item at around 450 kyats a viss. (Before
1990 the cost was about 250 kyats a viss.) With the price of meat so
high, in the breakfast fried rice of
A dish which is much loved by the Burmese not only at breakfast time but at any time of the day is mohinga. This is a peppery fish broth, which is eulogistically termed Burmese bouillabaisse, eaten with rice vermicelli. A steaming bowl of mohinga adorned with vegetable fritters, slices of fish cake and hard-boiled eggs and enhanced with the flavor of chopped coriander leaves, morsels of crispy fried garlic, fish sauce, a squeezing of lime and chilies is a wonderful way of stoking up for the day ahead
The price of an average dish of mohinga which includes vegetable fritters and a quarter of a duck egg was 3 kyats before 1990. Now a slightly smaller portion with a cheap bean fritter and without duck egg costs 15 kyats. There is less of even the standard flavorings: coriander leaves have gone up in price from 50 pyas a bunch to 5 kyats. Extras such as fish cake or eggs are, it need hardly be said, expensive. Few people can afford a substantial breakfast of mohinga.
These days whether breakfast is fried rice or mohinga, it is not only less appetizing from lack of good ingredients, it is also less nourishing. And this is not merely because the high prices of meat, fish and beans mean less protein foods. In both fried rice and mohinga, palm oil is used instead of peanut oil which has become too expensive. To make up for the lack of tasty ingredients, a liberal dose of monosodium glutamate is generally added. What used to be healthy substantial delicious breakfast has become for many Burmese not just unsatisfactory but also something of a health hazard.
Yet those who can afford to have
fried rice or mohinga for breakfast, however unsatisfactory it may be, are the
fortunate ones. There are many who have to make do with rice gruel -- or even
nothing at all.
(Editor's Note: One U.S. dollar is
officially set at 6 kyats, but the actual exchange rate now is about 120 kyats
to the dollar. The pya is one hundredth of a kyat. This is one of a year-long
series of letters, the Japanese version of which appears in the Mainichi
Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some areas.)
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, January 15, 1995
Burmese Are Always Ready to
Celebrate a Festival
"Christmas in Rangoon
Burmese people love festivals. There is something to celebrate every month of the year. There are the better known festivals such as Thingyan (the water festival) in April and Thidingyut (the light festival) in October as well as lesser known ones such as that connected with the religious examinations held for monks. In spite of the large number of our own festivals we are not averse to celebrating those of other countries and cultures. Whether it is the Muslim /id/ or the Hindu /divali/ or Chinese New Year or Christmas, the Burmese are quite ready to take part in the fun and feasting.
When I was a child there used to be Christmas fairs in aid of various charities where Santa Claus, sweltering in his full regalia of thick red robes and flowing white cotton wool beard, would be in charge of the lucky dip counter. At one of those fairs I won a bottle of whiskey, which was then a rare and expensive object. Of course to me it was a total disappointment as I had been hoping for a toy or at least a packet of sweets, and I was thoroughly puzzled by the number of old men (at least they seemed old to me then) who congregated to congratulate me on my great good fortune. My mother advised me to give away the bottle to one of the enthusiastic throng around me, which I did willingly, but I could not understand why the recipient was so effusive in his thanks. The whole incident somewhat diminished my faith both in lucky dips and in adult taste.
Christmas in
Carol singing is an activity which
instantly recalls pictures of rosy cheeked children and hearty adults, all
wrapped in thick coats with colorful scarves wound around their necks, standing
under a Victorian lamp amidst a gentle swirl of snowflakes. Thick coats, woolly
scarves, Victorian lamps and snowflakes are not part of any Christmas scene in
A carol singing group which has been coming to our house every Christmas since my mother was alive is from a Christian institution for the blind. Last week they came again after a gap of six years. The blind singers and guitarist were led by three or four sighted persons as they made their rounds, part of the way on foot and part of the way on public buses. By the time they reached our house it was late in the afternoon, but their voices were still strong and fresh as they sang of peace and joy and goodwill among men. Later we talked over coffee and sesame crisps and I learnt that the sighted members were themselves children of blind parents and that there were in the institution several blind couples with young children, none of whom suffered from any visual defects. It sounded as though the inmates were on large family, no doubt with the usual quota of family difficulties but quietly determined to lead a full, independent life.
The next day came another group of carol singers from an international organization. They too were collecting for charity and among them were many non-Christians. The day had been warm and there were a large number of outsized mosquitos swooping and attacking with the swift aggression of dive-bombers. The song of Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer in cold, snowy Santa Claus country sounded a little surreal under the circumstances but it did not detract from the seasonal cheer.
Because they knew my sons were
coming, friends had commandeered from other friends a potted plant (perhaps a
species of Chamaecyparis?) That approximated to a Christmas tree "for the
children" and decorated it with lights and baubles. We produced presents
to pile at the foot of the tree and on Christmas day itself gave lunch to all
our regular helpers, numbering about 100. After giving out the presents, we had
a lucky dip. In remembrance of the time when I had been so disappointed by the
bottle of whisky, I had chosen prizes which were entirely different. The best
one was an "executive stress tester" which proved immensely popular.
Of all those who tried it out to see who had nerves of steel we discovered that
two young men who came from a part of
(This article is one of a year-long series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.)
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, January 22, 1996
NOW'S THE TIME TO JOIN
TOGETHER
AND LOOK TOWARD HEAVEN
"New Year Notes"
Our
family saw in the new year of 1986 with Japanese friends in a small town in the
vicinity of
Noriko, our hostess, had asked her
husband, Sadayoshi, to take charge of the o-mochi (rice cakes) baking in
the oven. Sadayoshi, a typical academic who found it difficult to give to
anything so mundane as cooking the meticulous attention
he brought to research, failed to check regularly on the o-mochi, with the
result that the beautiful rice dumplings were slightly charred. Now, Noriko is
an excellent cook who accepts nothing short of perfection in her kitchen. Once
shopping with her at
Now, 10 years on, my family and I
saw out 1995 in a way somewhat remote from
Perhaps the hopes that fill the
hearts of the people of
A professor of geography in
When he was a grown man and
"Joya no kane" is the ringing of the temple bell 108 times; each toll
is thought to protect us from one of the 108 sins or other evils to which we
might fall victim during the coming year (I think).
-- C. Schlenker
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, January 29, 1996
THE GREAT BURMESE INDEPENDENCE
"Even Certain Arrest Did Not Hold Back the Celebration"
The a-nyeint is a uniquely Burmese form of entertainment consisting of a medley of orchestral music, song and dance -- and, perhaps most important of all, witty repartee and humorous skits provided by comedians. Traditionally an a-nyeint troupe is hired to perform both at family celebrations such as the Buddhist ordination ceremony for boys or on public occasions such as pagoda festivals or jubilees.
Jan. 4 this year was the 48th
anniversary of the day when
On the evening of Jan. 2 a key member of my office staff was pulled in by his local military intelligence unit for 24 hours. He was interrogated not only on such crucial matters as the policies and decision-making process of our party but also on our proposed Independence Day ceremony. The authorities did not seem particularly keen on the idea of our commemorating the occasion in a spirit of freedom. However the a-nyeint was not mentioned.
At
The Independence Day ceremony of the NLD began later in the morning in the garden of my house and was expected to be completed within three hours. In the event the program went on for six hours because the audience of nearly 2,000 wanted the last item, the a-nyeint, to continue for as long as possible.
It started in the traditional way with two comedians coming forward to introduce the performance. But as soon as the senior of the two, U Pa Pa Lay, started to speak it became obvious, to the surprise and untold delight of the audience, that this was going to be an act such as had not been witnessed in Burma for several decades: The comedians were determined to exercise to the full their traditional right to apply their comic and critical powers to a commentary on matters of topical interest, many of a political nature.
U Pa Pa Lay began by saying that
this was an occasion when he would be acting and speaking according to his own
wishes and that he was aware such audacity would likely land him in prison. He
explained that he had already served a year in prison for making a joke that
referred to the overwhelming support for the NLD throughout the whole country.
The thunderous applause that greeted U Pa Pa Lay's introductory remarks was a
fitting prelude to a performance that scintillated with witty skits, brilliant
jokes, sprightly dances and lively music. The audience reveled in the artistic
skill of the whole performance and were filled with deep admiration for the
courage of the company, in particular for U Pa Pa Lay and his fellow comedian U
Lu Zaw who so bravely gave voice to what the people had been wishing -- but not
daring -- to say for may an year. On the afternoon of Jan. 6 the troupe came to
say good-bye to me before they went back to
We are now waiting for the next act
in the drama of this most courageous troupe. Come what may, we shall stand by
them.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, February 5, 1996
THE KEY TO A SUCCESSFUL
OPEN-MARKET ECONOMY
"A Note on Economic Policy"
Interviews with members of the media have become part of my normal work schedule over the last seven months. Some interviews are brief, 15 minutes or so, limited to a particular topic which is the specialty of the newspaper or magazine concerned. Other interviews are longer and ramble over a wider range of subjects. There are a number of standard questions related to the period of my house arrest and the work of the National League for Democracy (NLD) which are asked in almost every interview. Then there are questions which relate to current developments.
In recent weeks many journalists have asked about the economic policies of the NLD. One or two have even asked if we believed in an open-market economy. It brought home to me the fact that few foreigners knew of the existence of the Manifesto brought out by our party for the 1990 elections. And as there has been no official English translation of the Manifesto, even those who knew of it might not have known much about its contents. (The authorities have not permitted the NLD to bring out any publications since about two months after the elections.)
In view of current media interest, I would like to put down here the economic objectives of the NLD as stated under 11 clauses in the sections of the Manifesto on the economy:
- Stability in prices, currency and employment; a national currency in which the people can have confidence
- Appropriate monetary and fiscal policies and an effectively controlled budget
- A review of the exchange rate followed by necessary revision
- Priority given to the import of fuel, vehicles and other goods that will contribute toward a fall in prices
- Diversification of export goods
- Amendments in foreign investment laws with a view to increasing the volume of investments
- Reductions of foreign debts and resumption of aid and assistance from abroad
- Review and, where necessary, revision or repeal of laws, decrees, regulations and other restrictions which circumscribe economic activities
- Review and revision of the tax system to make private enterprise more profitable
- An economy in which all the component parts are based fully on the market economy; encouragement of the speedy development of private enterprise
- Promotion of a more efficient tourist industry.
Of course, it is easy enough to set down economic objectives, the question is how one sets about achieving them. I have found the opinions expressed by Dr. David Dapice, associate faculty fellow of the Harvard Institute for International Development, in his reports on the Burmese economy to the United Nations Development Program very similar to the views of the NLD. In "Prospects for Sustainable Growth in Myanmar/Burma" Dr. Dapice comments that "economic reform is not simply setting an interest rate or exchange rate. It is establishing a shared vision of where the policies should lead and creating credibility and confidence that most movements will be in the right directions."[1]
Credibility and confidence are basic to good business and this is what we have to establish first if we want our policies to lead to a successful open-market economy. It is for this reason that the NLD believes that essential to sound economic development is a political system firmly rooted in the rule of law. Here again I would like to refer to Dr. Dapice, who holds that to reverse the trend in Burma toward "serious and difficult-to-reverse economic, social, and political problems" there would need to be "a strong and effective legal system, and a set of policies and institutions that engender confidence enough for people to save in banks and invest in the future without fear that they will, effectively, lose even if they succeed."[2]
When I am questioned as to my views
on foreign investment I reply that now is not yet the time to invest. And to
those who would query what the alternative would be to "investment
now," I would say: "Invest in the future." That is to say,
invest in democracy for
- David Dapice, "Prospects for Sustainable
Growth in Myanmar/Burma"
(A Report to the United Nations Development Program, September 12, 1995), p. 15 - Ibid.
This article is one of a
yearlong series of letters, the
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, February 12, 1996
FOR THOSE BEHIND PRISON WALLS,
SEASONS GO UNCHANGED
"Months and Season"
It
is generally held that in
December coincides roughly with the
month of Natdaw which, in the days before Buddhism took root in
Winter begins for me when at night
I start piling on the Chin blankets that we have always used in the family.
These blankets of thick cotton come in stripes or checks, usually in different
shades of greens, reds and reddish browns. As children we became attached to
our own blankets and I remember in particular a green checked one that I
insisted on using until it was almost in tatters. Now, the first blanket I
place on my bed at the advent of the cold weather is an old one given to my
father by Chin friends: it is white with faded red stripes and in the corner is
the date embroidered by my mother, "
This is the eighth winter that I
have not been able to get into bed at night without thinking of prisoners of
conscience and other inmates of jails all over
This is the eighth winter that I
have got out of bed in the morning and looked out at the clean freshness of the
world and wondered how may prisoners are able to savor
the beauties of Hemanta of which our poets have written so nostalgically. It
would be interesting to read poems of winter behind the unyielding walls of
prisons which shut out silvery dew and gossamer sunshine, the smell of pale
winter blossoms and the taste of rich warming foods.
In
This
article is one of a yearlong series, the Japanese translation of which appears
in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, February 19, 1996
"Visitors must make up their minds
before too late an hour if they intend to stay the night because their presence
has to be reported to the local Law and Order Restoration Council (LORC) before
nine o'clock in the evening."
BURMA
"Visiting Rites"
The Burmese are reputed to be one of the most hospitable people in the world. When I was a child I took it for granted that formal invitations to lunch or tea or dinner were issued only to foreigners. Burmese friends simply dropped in and shared whatever you happened to be eating. And there was always enough for visitors, however unexpected. Often friends would suddenly appear in the evening, hot green tea, plum candy, fried beans and /laphet/ (preserved tea leaves) would be brought out and there would be an impromptu party. Sometimes the conversation flowed so happily and the atmosphere was so congenial the guests would decide to stay for the night. That would be no problem at all: some smooth /thinbyu/ mats, pillows and mosquito nets and any room with a fresh breeze bowing through would be instantly transformed into a pleasant guest dormitory. Night would descend on a household replete with food and the sense of hospitality well discharged.
There is no tradition of inns or
hotels in
Hospitality is no longer so simple.
Apart from the high food prices that make most people hesitate to impose
themselves on friends, staying overnight in a house other than your own
involves more than friendship, good conversation an a cool mat. Visitors must
make up their minds before too late an hour if they intend to stay the night
because their presence has to be reported to the local Law and Order
Restoration Council (LORC) before
These periodic checks can be a mere
formality conducted with courtesy or they can be a form of harassment. There
are no lack of cases where the authorities have marched in the dead of night
and flung up mosquito nets to ascertain that the sleeping population tallied
with the names and numbers on Form 10. Form 10 is the list of all members of a
family. In some households which comprise more than one nuclear family there
may be more than one Form 10. Domestic employees who sleep at their employers'
homes also have to be registered on Form 10 or they have to be reported as
guests. A person may be registered on only one Form 10 so if it is necessary
for him to be entered as a member of another family fro some reason, his name
has to be removed from the original family list. During the days of the Burmese
Socialist Programme Party, Form 10 played a central role in the daily lives of
the people of
And what can happen if a family
fails to let the local LORC know they have an overnight guest? Both the guest
and the host are liable to minimum fine of 50 kyats, or to a prison sentence
ranging from two weeks to six months. Since 1988 the cases of prison sentences
meted out to unreported guests have increased hugely.
Some of the cases are tragicomic. A young man caught spending the night as an
unreported guest was taken to court together with his host. The court handed
down a prison sentence of six months to the guest and two weeks to the host.
The host, a hospitable man with a long experience of paying fines for his
unexpected and unreported guests, involuntarily clicked his tongue against his
teeth in astonished disgust. The acting magistrate heard the loud click and
promptly changed the sentence on the host to one month's imprisonment for
contempt of court. The price of hospitality in
(This
article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the Japanese translation of
which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some
areas.)
Letter
from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday,
February 26, 1996
BURMA
IN BETTER HEALTH CARE AND EDUCATION
"A Baby in the Family"
A couple of weeks ago some friends of mine became grandparents for the first time when their daughter gave birth to a little girl. The husband accepted his new status as grandfather with customary joviality, while the wife, too young-looking and pretty to fit into the conventional idea of a cozily aged grandmother, found it a somewhat startling experience. The baby was the first grandchild for the "boy's side" as well, so she was truly a novel addition to the family circle, the subject of much adored attention. I was told the paternal grandfather was especially pleased because the baby had been born in the Burmese month of Pyatho, an auspicious time for the birth of a girl child.
In societies where the birth of a
girl is considered a disaster, the atmosphere of excitement and pride
surrounding my friends' granddaughter would have caused astonishment. In
My friends' granddaughter was only 12 days old when I went to admire her. She lay swaddled in pristine white on a comfortable pile of blankets and sheets spread on the wooden floor of my friends' bungalow, a small dome of mosquito netting arched prettily over her. It had been a long time since I had seen such a tiny baby and I wast struck by its miniature perfection. I do not subscribe to the Wodehousian view that all babies look like poached eggs. Even if they do not have clearly defined features, babies have distinct expressions that mark them off as individuals from birth. And they certainly have individual cries, a fact learned soon after the birth of my first son. It only took me a few hours to realize that the yell of each tiny, vociferous inmate of the maternity hospital had its own unique pitch, cadence range and grace notes.
My friends' grandchild however did not provide me with a chance to familiarize myself with her particular milk call. Throughout my visit she remained as inanimate and still as a carved papoose on display in a museum, oblivious of the fuss and chatter around her. At one time her eyelids fluttered slightly and she showed signs of stirring but it was a false alarm. She remained resolutely asleep even when I picked her up and we all clustered around to have our photograph taken with the new star in our firmament.
Babies, I have read somewhere, are specially constructed to present an appealingly vulnerable appearance aimed at arousing tender, protective instincts: only then can tough adults be induced to act as willing slaves to demanding little beings utterly incapable of doing anything for themselves. It has also been claimed that there is something about the natural smell of a baby's skin that invites cuddles and kisses. Certainly I like both the shape and smell of babies, but I wonder whether their attraction does not lie in something more than merely physical attributes. Is it not the thought of a life stretching out like a shining clean slate on which might one day be written the most beautiful prose and poetry of existence that engenders such joy in the hearts of the parent and grandparents of a newly born child? The birth of a baby is an occasion for weaving hopeful dreams about the future.
However, in some families parents
are not able to indulge long in dreams over their children. The infant
mortality rate in
The reasons for these high
mortality rates are malnutrition, lack of access to safe water and sanitation,
lack of access to health services and lack of caring capacity, which includes
programs for childhood development, primary education and health education. In
summary, there is a strong need in
Some of the best indicators of a
country developing along the right lines are healthy mothers giving birth to
healthy children who are assured of good care and a sound education that will
enable them to face the challenges of a changing world. Our dreams for the
future of the children of
This
article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the Japanese translation of
which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some
areas.
Letter
from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday,
March 4, 1996
SAVORING THE PEACE OF A
WELL-EARNED WEEKEND
"Days of Rest"
People
ask me in what way my life has changed since I was released from house arrest
eight months ago. One of the most obvious changes is that I can no longer keep
to the strict timetable that governed my days when I lived alone. Then, it was
important to establish a routine and to follow it strictly to avoid a feckless
squandering of time. I rose at
There was always a holiday feeling
to the beginning of the weekend. Forty-eight hours of marvelous emptiness
stretched before me to be filled with leisurely activity. I still rose at
Happily, "No appointments on
Sundays" is a strict rule. Well, at any rate it is a strict rule in
theory. It just happens that sometimes something unavoidable crops up just on
Sunday. But if there are really no appointments, Sunday morning is wonderful. I
can linger over my breakfast cup of tea: I can even read while sipping my tea.
I can bathe and wash my hair without haste and I can tidy up the mess that has
accumulated over the week. I can savor to the full that lovely, leisurely
weekend feeling. The weekend feeling actually ends on Sunday afternoon because
preparations for the public meeting that takes place at my gate at
Although the quiet weekend air dissipates early on Sunday afternoon the holiday atmosphere continues. Friends and colleagues start arriving and it is very much like a family gathering. Some of the visitors come laden with food. The wife of U Kyi Maung, one of the deputy chairmen of the National League for Democracy, generally brings a large supply of steamed glutinous rice with both sweet and savory accompaniments such as tiny, crisply fried fish and grated fresh coconut. After the public meeting we sit out in the garden in small groups, drinking hot green tea, eating glutinous rice and exchanging news. An outsider witnessing the animation of the conversation and hearing the gales of laughter bursting out intermittently from each group would not have guessed that most of the people present worked together every day, voluntarily and without pay, under circumstances which were far from easy.
Most Sundays we manage to get
through all that we have to do by about
Journalists ask me from time to
time whether it is not a great burden to be engage in
the struggle for human rights and democracy in
(This
article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the Japanese translation of
which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some
areas.)
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
March 11, 1996
DANCING UNDER THE BANNER OF
ETHNIC HARMONY
"Union Day Dances"
On
The National League for Democracy
commemorated Union Day with a declaration of its policy on the ethnic peoples
of
About 5,000 people attended our celebration, the maximum number we could accommodate. There were many more who wanted to come despite the fact that in certain townships the authorities had threatened unpleasant consequences for those who came to the NLD Union Day ceremony. Karen villagers from Hmawbi township were told they should not dance at our ceremony and it was made impossible for them to rent a car on the morning of Feb. 12. However, they managed to make their way to us by public transport.
The entertainment program began with a solo performance by a Mon dancer. Her costume in flaming burnt orange brocade and her golden headdress surmounted the legendary /kintha/ bird were very striking, and her movements were precise and graceful with the flexible hand gestures characteristic of so many dances in Southeast Asia.
A troupe of Pa-O dancers had come from a village in the Mon state. They made an impressive appearance on the stage, the men in black jackets, wide, black trousers and white shirts, their turbans presenting the only touch of color. The women were also in black, the tunics and jackets with the merest touch of red and black trimming, their turbans very similar to those of the men. One of the girls accompanied the dancing with songs sung in a high sweet soprano. The most exciting part of the Pa-O performance were the sword dances executed by the men with solemn finesse.
A Shan contingent which had come up
from villages southeast of
Earlier in the program there had been another kind of Shan dancing executed by a group of girls dressed in pink. In addition there had been a solo dance by an Arakanese dancer, Karen dancing. Kayah dancing, Kachin dancing. Chin dancing and a traditional Burmese folk dance that acted out the words of a chant accompanied by lively music.
Each dance had its own individual attraction. The Chin dance was quite different from the sword dances which fired such enthusiastic response but it was also extremely popular with the audience. The dancers were clad in beautiful woven cloth, the men with traditional Chin blankets draped toga-fashioned. They treaded a steady measure around the stage in couples, headed by a tall young man with raised right arm holding up a sword while a pretty girl paced by his side, delicately holding on to his left arm. The rhythm of the music as well as the stateliness of the dance was mesmerizing.
The various dances illustrated the
wide range of ethnic cultures of which
(This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.)
Letter
from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday,
March 18, 1996
HOOLIGANISM HOLDS NO
ATTRACTION FOR MANY BURMESE
"An Eventful Week"
This
has been a rather exhausting week. February 13, the day after Union Day, which
we had celebrated so vigorously, was my father's birthday as well as Children's
Day in
The children's entertainment program included a short skit, poetry recitals and three performances of traditional Burmese dancing. The /nabanhsan/ dance that depicted a village belle with her hair tied in bunches above her ears (nabanhsan refers to this particular hairstyle) enchanted everybody. It was performed by an exquisite 6-year-old with a vividly expressive face and a delicious dimple on one cheek. As she danced and acted out her role of coquettish beauty, two little boys, one standing on either side of her, went through the motions of admiring rural lads. They had handkerchiefs tied around their heads in the accepted style of rakish young manhood and mimed expertly to the words of the song that accompanied their act. The movement of their hands and motion of their bodies as they parodied flute-playing drew thunderous applause. One of the little boys had such a look of sweet deviltry, mischief sparkling in his eyes, that his face was a whole entertainment in itself. On the basis of the nabahsan dance alone many in the audience were ready to vote the children more talented than the adults who had performed on Union Day. The seriousness with which these young children approached their artistic training was impressive while the pure enjoyment, unadulterated by stage fright, with which they went through their performances was thoroughly delightful. We were strengthened by the spirit and success of our Union Day celebrations but our Children's Day program was truly refreshing and we felt appropriately rejuvenated.
Feb. 14 was the first anniversary
of the death of U Nu, the first prime minister of independent
At
We were not able to stay long at U
Nu's memorial ceremony because that same morning the first of a series of NLD
educational lectures was scheduled to take place. The speaker was Dr. Tha Hla,
one of the most eminent academics
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter
from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday,
March 25, 1996
EX-ARMY OFFICERS SERVE THE
DEMOCRATIC CAUSE
"A Few Introductions (1)"
In
writing about the activities of the National League for Democracy it will be
necessary to mention the names of some of our key personnel from time to time,
so I would like to introduce a quartet of retired army officers who are leading
members of the executive committee of the party. The chairman of the NLD is U
Aung Shwe. He joined the Burma Independence Army in 1942, one of the educated
young men (he had graduated from
Subsequent to his posting in
The predictable reaction to the
collapse of the one-party system was the mushrooming of parties at a rate which
would be familiar to those who knew
The only original member of the
executive committee, who was left after 1990 to help U Aung Shwe in his
struggle to keep the NLD intact through the years that threatened its viability
as a political party, was U Lwin, the treasurer. U Lwin had joined the Burmese
Independence Army as an 18-year-old boy at the outbreak of the war. In August
1943 he was among a batch of Burmese cadets chosen to go to
U Lwin continued with his career in
the army after independence and was sent on training courses to
U Lwin joined the NLD in 1988 and
was appointed treasurer because of his experience in finances and his
unquestioned integrity. In 1992, when the NLD was forced to reorganize its
executive committee, U Lwin took on the post of secretary, while U Aung Shwe
became chairman.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, April 1, 1996
BOH AUNG GYAW REMAINS AN
INSPIRATION TO STUDENTS
"A Few Introductions (2)"
Among
the group of Burmese cadets with whom U Lwin went to
During the quarter century that
followed his retirement from the army, U Kyi Maung was imprisoned twice, for a
total of seven years, on suspicion of opposing the military, later the Burmese
Socialist Programme Party, government. Soon after the outbreak of the democracy
movement in 1988, U Kyi Maung was pulled into prison for the third time, but he
was released within a month. In September 1988, he became one of the 12 members
of the Executive Committee of the National League for Democracy. When U Tin U
and I were placed under house arrest in July 1989, the Executive Committee of
the NLD decided on collective leadership, but it would not be wrong to say that
U Kyi Maung was the man who led the party to its resounding victory in the
elections of 1990. After the first few weeks of euphoria, the people of
Another eminent leader of the NLD
released on the same day as U Kyi Maung was U Tin U. As chairman of the NLD, he
had been placed under house arrest in July 1989 and in December of the same
year tried by a military tribunal and sentenced to three years' imprisonment.
When the end of his prison term was approaching, he was tried again on the same
charges as previously and given another prison sentence of seven years. The
years U Tin U spent in Insein Jail from 1989 to 1995 were his second stint in
the infamous prison. His first period of incarceration had lasted from 1976
until 1980. U Tin U joined the army as a mere 16-year-old in 1943. After the
war, he was included in the 150 Burmese officers to be given commissions in the
reorganized Burma Army which formed the basis of the nation when it became
independent. During the 1950s, he was twice awarded for valor shown in action
against Kuomintang troops which had fled into
The year 1974 was also when the
meanness of spirit shown by the authorities over the funeral of U Thant,
retired secretary-general of the United Nations, scandalized the people of
On his release from prison under a
general amnesty program in 1980, U Tin U went straight to a monastery, where he
stayed as a monk for two years. When he returned to lay life, he studied law
and acquired the Registered Lawyers' certificate as well as the LL.B. degree.
The democracy movement of 1988 drew him from a quiet, private life into the
struggle to bring justice and human rights to
This
article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the Japanese translation of
which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some
areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, April 8, 1996
THE WORLD OF LETTERS WAS U WIN
TIN'S DOMAIN
"A Special Introduction"
Four
leading members of the Executive Committee of the National League for Democracy
have already been introduced to readers of "Letter from
Unlike U Aung Shwe, U Kyi Maung, U
Tin U and U Lwin, U Win Tin, born in 1930, was never a member of the armed forces.
The world of letters was his domain. Even before graduation from university he
had begun to work for the Burma Translation Society in the capacity of
assistant editor. In 1954 he became advisory editor to a Dutch newspaper
company. This was the beginning of a long career in journalism which culminated
in his appointment of the Hanthawaddy, one of the leading dailies of
It was only natural that those who
believed in intellectual freedom and justices should have been at the vanguard
of the democracy movement which began in 1988. From the beginning U Win Tin
played an active role in the Writers'
His undoubted ability and his
strength of purpose made U Win Tin a prime target of those who opposed the democratic
cause and in June 1989 he became one of the very first leaders of the NLD to be
arrested. The charge against him involved an unproven telephone conversation
with the father of an individual who had been declared a fugitive from the law.
Telephone conversations are, in any case, inadmissable as evidence under the
law but the law offers scant protection for those who challenge military rule
in
U Win Tin is little given to talking about himself. As secretary and general secretary he and I worked together on an almost daily basis from the time the NLD was founded but it was several months before I discovered, quite by chance, that he was a bachelor who lived alone and managed his own household chores. Soon after he was sentenced in 1989, the lease on the state-owned flat where he had been living for many years was canceled and friends had to move his possessions out of the apartment. U Win Tin's whole demeanor conveys such an impression of firmness, few people are aware that he suffers from a heart condition that requires constant medication. The long period spent in prison where medical care is inadequate and living conditions abysmal have aggravated his health problems. When U.S. Congressman Bill Richardson saw him in February 1994 U Win Tin was wearing a neck support: spondylosis has been added to his afflictions. He was also in need of dental treatment. But his mind was as clear as ever and his spirit upright and unwavering. In the full knowledge that his every world would be reported to the authorities, he commented on the National Convention that had been arranged by the SLORC with his customary incisiveness and sent me a message of strong, unequivocal support.
Now U Win Tin is facing the serious
possibility of a third sentence superimposed on the two that have already been
slapped on him. Since November 1995, he and 27 other political prisoners have
been charged with breaking prison regulations and their trials are taking place
within the jail precincts. The families of the defendants have asked senior
members of the government, the Chief Justice and the Attorney General to be
allowed to provide the legal assistance entitled under the law. An answer is
not yet forthcoming.
This article is one of yearlong series of
letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the
same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter
from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Sunday,
April 14, 1996
GATHERING AT TEASHOPS POPULAR
PASTIME "Taking Tea"
Tea
plays a very important part in the social life of
While there is nothing more
refreshing than a cup of pale amber tea made from roasted leaves grown in the
Shan plateau, the Burmese people have become increasingly fond of "sweet
tea." This is tea made from milk and sugar -- but not the English way.
"Sweet tea" stalls were originally run by Indian immigrants so the
tea is made in a way not unfamiliar to those who have frequented
"char" shops in
In Burmese teashops one does not ask for "lapsang souchong" or Earl Grey or flowery orange pekoe or English breakfast blend. Instead one asks for "mildly sweet," "mildly sweet and strong," "sweet and rich," or "/Kyaukpadaung/" (very sweet and thick). If the tea is made with imported condensed milk instead of the locally produced variety it becomes "/she'/" ("special") and costs and extra couple of kyats. Friends gathering at teashops is so popular a pastime the expression "teashop sitting" is practically a verb in its own right. It is in teashops that people exchange news and, when it is not too dangerous an occupation, discuss politics. In fact there is an expression "green tea circle"which implies an informal discussion group. There is even a book of that title, based on a political column written between May 1946 and October 1947 by a famous newspaper man. The teashop is still one of the best places for catching up on the latest gossip around town, whether it is about the marital adventures of film stars or about nefarious dealings in high circles.
Writers also go in for
"teashop sitting." Sometimes such a gathering is the equivalent of an
informal literary meeting or a poetry reading. Students and other young people
too, congregate at favorite tea shops to hold discussions ranging from pop
music to political aspirations. Pungent catch words and phrases often emerge
from such teashop talk and quickly spread around town. These days there is a
tacitly accepted dividing line between young people who go in for "teashop
sitting" and those who prefer to spend their leisure hours in discos and
expensive restaurants. The difference between the two categories is to a
considerable degree, but not altogether, financial. "Teashop sitting"
students are more in the tradition of those young men and women who turned
Taking a cup of tea is such a
regular practice in
The price of a cup of tea in an
ordinary teashop is about 8 to 10 kyats, still not beyond the means of struggling
writers and students. However, the cost of taking tea in one of the new, or newly renovated, starred hotels of
This article is one of yearlong series of
letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the
same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter
from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
April
22, 1996
BUSINESSMEN CAN ONLY REAP WHAT
THEY SOW
"The Beautiful and the Ugly"
Years
ago, during a lesson on the Japanese tea ceremony at
Our teacher spoke chiefly of aesthetic matters. He contrasted the clashing colors and rampant designs of elaborate brocades with the elegance of plain, dark fabrics printed with simple geometric patterns or discreet emblems; he compared garish neon - lit city areas with cool gardens of moss covered rocks and old pines. The tea ceremony with its spirit of wakei seijaku illustrated the necessity of removing all that is ugly or disharmonious before reaching out to a beauty that is both visual and spiritual.
The fundamental principle of
aesthetics which we learnt from our teacher, that to acquire truly good taste
one has to be able to recognize both ugliness and beauty, is applicable to the
whole range of human experience. It is important to understand both what should
be rejected and what should be accepted. I personally know many Japanese who
are as ready to reject what is ugly as to accept what is beautiful. But I
cannot help thinking that such a sense of dis- crimination is lacking in those
who seek to promote business with
What do these advocates of precipitate economic engagement see when they look at our country? Perhaps they merely see the picturesque scenery, the instinctive smiles with which Burmese generally greet visitors, the new hotels, the cheap labor and what appear to them as golden opportunities for making money. Perhaps they do not know of the poverty in the countryside, the hapless people whose homes have been razed to make way for big vulgar buildings, the bribery and corruption that is spreading like a cancerous growth, the lack of equity that makes the so - called open market economy very, very open to some and hardly ajar to others, the harsh and increasingly lawless actions taken by the authorities against those who seek democracy and human rights, the forced labor projects where men, women and children toil away without financial compensation under hard taskmasters in scenes reminiscent of the infamous railway of death of the Second World War. It is surprising that those who pride themselves on their shrewdness and keen eye for opportunity cannot discern the ugly symptoms of a system that is undermining the moral and intellectual fiber and, consequently, the economic potential of our nation. If businessmen do not care about the numbers of political prisoners in our country they should at least be concerned that the lack of an effective legal framework means there is no guarantee of fair business practice or, in cases of injustice, of reparation. If businessmen do not care that our standards of health and education are deteriorating, they should at least be concerned that the lack of a healthy, educated labor force will inevitably thwart sound economic development. If businessmen do not care that we have to struggle with the difficulties of a system that gives scant attention to the well - being of the people, they should at least be concerned that the lack of necessary infrastructure and an underpaid and thereby corrupt bureaucracy hampers quick, efficient transactions. If businessmen do not care that our workers are exposed to exploitation, they should at least be concerned that a dissatisfied labor force will eventually mean social unrest and economic instability.
To observe businessmen who come to
Burma with the intention of enriching themselves is somewhat like watching
passers - by in an orchard roughly stripping off blossoms for their fragile
beauty, blind to the ugliness of despoiled branches, oblivious of the fact that
by their action they are imperilling future fruitfulness and committing an
injustice against the rightful owners of the trees. Among these despoilers are
big Japanese companies. But they do not represent the best of
(This article is one of a year - long series of letters, the Japanese
translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous
day in some areas.)
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, April 29, 1996
KEEPING INNOCENT SONGS FROM
BECOMING WAR CHANTS
"Old Songs"
Some
days ago two young Japanese women studying Burmese at Osaka University of
Foreign Studies came to see me at a very opportune time. U Kyi Maung and I
wanted help in translating a couple of Japanese songs. A few weeks ago U Kyi
Maung had spoken at one of our weekend public meetings about these songs which
he had learnt as a young soldier. Many of the songs of the armed forces of
U Kyi Maung explained that there was nothing intrinsically fascist about the original Japanese words of some of the songs and mentioned two which are well known in their Burmese versions. As I expressed an interest in learning more about such songs, he acquired from an old friend of his military academy days a couple of sheets of paper on which were printed, in prewar-style Japanese, a number of the songs he had been taught as a young soldier.
With the help of the two young
Japanese women we translated hesitatingly, the words of a song entitled
Hohei no uta
[Infantry's tune]
The color on my neckband is that of the
blossom of the many-branched sakura
As the flowers of Yoshino drop in the wind,
Those born as sons of Yamato
Fall courageously on the frontline like flowers.
The gun that measures one /shaku/ is no weapon.
A remnant of sword can achieve nothing.
It is the spirit of Yamato, instilled repeatedly Beyond the realms of memory
Since over two thousand years ago,
That keeps two hundred thousand soldiers In seventy stations,
Defending their flag,
Never surrendering their position,
Not even in their dreams.
In another song,
Aiba Shingun Ka
[March for My Lovely Horse]
How long ago is it since I left my country
Prepared to die together with this horse?
Old horse, are you feeling sleepy?
The reins I hold are as a vein that
Links your blood to mine.
What, U Kyi Maung queried, is there about such words that is fascist or even particularly militaristic? An evocation of tender cherry blossoms, an emphasis on the spirit rather than on weapons, a sentimental ditty about an old horse. But because these songs were sung repeatedly as the Japanese army marched across Asia in obedience to the commands a fascist military government, leaving devastation in its wake, the very tunes have come to be regarded as inauspicious sounds reverberating with the army; his discipline, self-sacrifice and love of nature, were wiped out by the deeds he was made to perform at the behest of leaders who had swept aside liberal values and chosen the way of military aggression to gain their ends, indifferent to the suffering of others.
It is the love of ordinary people, in
This article is one of yearlong series of
letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the
same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, May 6, 1996
BURMA
"Water Festival (1)"
Poets
who have known the disturbing beauty of spring in temperate lands write about
the month of April with a quivering nostalgia, fascinated, and perhaps a little
frightened, by its uncertain glory. April in tropical
The cruelty of April in
The name of the festival is /Thingyan/. Thingyan denotes a changeover and the suffix /maha/, great, is often added to indicate the major change from an old to a new year which the festival celebrates. We also use the suffix /ata/, ending, as the festival actually takes place during the last four days of the old year and the ata water that we pour on each other as part of the festivities symbolizes peace and prosperity and the washing away of impurities.
The form of the Thingyan festival has changed perceptibly over the last 200 years. An Englishman, Captain Symes, sent by the Viceroy of India on an embassy to the Burmese court at Ava in 1795 left a description of the water festival in which he took part:
"To wash away the impurities of the past and begin the new year free from stain, women on this day throw water on every man they meet, and the men are allowed to throw water on them in return. This permission to throw water on one another gives rise to a great deal of harmless merriment, especially amongst the young women, who, armed with large syringes or squirts and vessels, try to wet every man that goes along the street, and in their turn receive a wetting with the utmost good nature.
"The slightest indecency is never shown in this or in any other of their sports. Dirty water is never thrown. A man is not allowed to lay hold of a woman, but may throw as much water over her as he pleases, provided she has started first."
The age of chivalry when only women were allowed to start throwing water first have long gone by. And these days water hoses fitted with nozzles that spurt out strong jets of water have largely replaced syringes and squirts and dainty vessels. And many Burmese, especially those belonging to the older generations, would sadly admit that it can no longer be claimed that "the slightest indecency is never shown" during the festival, especially since alcoholic excess has come to be associated with thingyan. In modern times it has become the practice to set up temporary buildings for the purpose of throwing water and provide entertainment in the form of songs and dances on the sides of city streets. Carloads of merrymakers go from street to street getting wetter and wetter and in some cases getting more and more intoxicated.
But there is more to thingyan than throwing water and having fun. It is a time for taking stock of the past year and using the last few days before the new year comes in to balance our "merit book." Some people spend the period of the water festival in meditating, worshiping at pagodas, observing the eight precepts, releasing caged birds and fishes and performing other meritorious deeds. Children are told that /Sakya/ comes down from his heavenly abode to wander in the human world during the days of thingyan, carrying with him two large books, one bound in gold and the other bound in dog leather. The names of those who perform meritorious acts are entered in the golden book while the names of those who do not behave properly are noted down in the dog leather tome. It is especially important not to get angry during thingyan or to make others angry. It is therefore considered wrong to throw water at anybody who is unwilling to be doused.
There are special foods associated with thingyan. One of the most popular of these are small boiled rice dumplings with a stuffing of palm sugar, eaten with a sprinkling of shredded fresh coconut. Often hot chilies are put in place of the palm sugar in a few dumplings and there is much good humored laughter when some unfortunate bites into one of these lethal sweetmeats and vociferously expresses his chagrin. Because it is such a hot time of the year sweet, cooling drinks made from coconut milk, swirling with bits of rice pasta tinted a pale green, saga, seaweed jelly and other garnishes are served as part of the festivities.
A traditional part of the water festival has
disappeared in recent years: the /thingyan thangyat/, rhyming choruses that
provide pungently witty commentaries on topical subjects, particularly on the
government. It was a way of allowing people to let off steam healthily once a
year and also a way of allowing sensible governments to know how the people
truly feel about them. But the SLORC is incapable of coping with criticism. Members
of the NLD who sung such choruses in 1989 were imprisoned.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, May 13, 1996
AMID THE FESTIVITIES, A CHANCE
TO HELP OTHERS
"Water Festival (2)"
This year /thingyan/, the water festival that takes place at the end of the Burmese lunar year, began on the 12th of April. On that day, in the midst of a flurry of activities connected with the ceremonies the NLD was planning for the 14th, we arranged an /ata/ pot. This is an earthenware vessel filled with symbolic leaves and flowers for the purpose, some hold, of welcoming /Sakya/ when he comes down for the water festival. Others see it as an insurance against ill luck, particularly for those who were born on the day of the week on which the last day of thingyan falls, as such people are held to be highly vulnerable to misfortune during the year to come. Whatever the original purpose may have been, placing the ata pot in an auspicious part of the house is generally seen as an indispensable part of the preparations for thingyan.
The flower especially associated with the
water festival is the /padauk/ (the Indian or Malabar Kino), bright yellow with
a very sweet but light fragrance. It usually blooms at this time of year after
a shower of rain but as the second week of April was quite dry we had resigned
ourselves to a thingyan without the enchanting sight of frothy golden blossoms
adorning all and sundry. However on the day of our NLD water festival somebody
brought some padauk which had been found in bloom on some eccentric tree and I
was able to tuck a happy spray into my hair. In Arakan on the western coast of
At the same time as the water throwing was going on there was an almost continuous program of songs and dances for the entertainment of those who wanted to sit and dry out. Most of the dances had been hastily rehearsed by amateurs and could not have been described as examples of choreographic perfection. But imbued with the generous spirit of the season, the audience were quite determined to be pleased and even the most fastidious of them willingly overlooked the flaws.
The main purpose of our thingyan
celebrations was to collect funds for political prisoners. There was a stall
where NLD souvenirs were sold, a hot drinks stall, a stall selling pickled tea
and ginger preparations and stall where a substantial Burmese meal could be
bought at a very reasonable price. A Burmese meal basically consists of what
the Japanese would describe as /kare-raisu/, although our curries are
considerably different from the kare that is served in
There is a lovely Burmese custom known as
/satuditha/. This is a Pali expression meaning the four directions and
satuditha is the charitable act of offering free food or drink to those who
come from the four points of the compass, that is to say, to all comers. For
our thingyan celebrations NLD members from various townships in the
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, May 20, 1996
BURMESE MAKE THE MOST OUT OF
FESTIVAL TIME
"Water Festival (3)"
The
energy of the young is wonderful. The NLD /thingyan/ festival had begun at
As far as I was concerned, one such day of water throwing was quite enough to last us for at least another year but of course the young people saw things in a different light. Before they had even finished tidying up for the evening they were making plans to establish a little water throwing depot on the side of the street in front of our garden the next day. As that would be the last day of the water festival, they were determined to make the most of it.
Equipped with large tanks of water, diverse vessels, syringes and several cassette tapes of thingyan songs, our band of water players took up position outside the front gates next morning. The star of the show was a small 7 year old. Deceptively frail looking with long hair, sweetly pouting lips, round cheeks and thin legs, this little girl had more stamina than most boys. She had been engaged in dousing others or getting doused herself almost without respite since the first day of thingyan, yet she was unflagging on the fourth and last day and outlasted almost everybody else.
It gave me a sense of deep contentment to work quietly by myself inside the house while faint sounds of music and laughter and the shrill shouts of children drifted in from the road. To be able to clear my desk of accumulated work and to know that our young people were having a happy time afforded double satisfaction. The water throwers occasionally wandered into the house, faces glowing from their exertions, leaving a trail of wet footprints, getting themselves something to eat. During the hottest part of the day they took a rest to recharge their batteries for the final onslaught, then went back to join the watery fray with new vigor.
In the late afternoon, our water throwers asked me to join them. On the understanding that I would not participate in the action, as I was feeling none too robust after the activities of the previous day, I went out to observe the proceedings. Two young men with whistles signaled to cars filled with soaking wet people to indicate that those who wanted to have a go at trying to get even wetter should stop. The cars usually stopped and with good humor the passengers allowed our water throwers to get to work with their howls and other dousing equipment. Some of our young people had begun to slow down but the hardiest ones, including of course our 7 year old, gave an impressive demonstration of their capacity for sustained endeavor.
It was obvious that many of those cruising around in cars for the joy of exposing themselves to as much thingyan water as possible had imbibed freely. Inebriated merrymakers often make provocative remarks or crude gestures and get involved in brawls quite out of keeping with the traditional spirit of the New Year season. But such unseemly behavior was not at all evident in those who stopped for our water throwers. Everybody was cheerful and friendly and even those who were evidently tipsy did not fail in courtesy. The single exception was a man who jumped down unsteadily from a car with a bottle of liquor in one hand and in the other an aerosol can from which he sent out sprays of scent. He became aggressive when he was asked to contain his overwhelming enthusiasm. Of course it was not all sweetness and light everywhere throughout the festival. Apart from the inevitable brawls that break out when spirits are running too high, a number of traffic accidents resulting in loss of life and limb, take place every year. This year too was not free from the usual quota of casualties. There were also a few unnecessary incidents involving NLD caps which had been sold at our ceremony on the fourteenth. Young men (wearing such caps), some of whom were not even members of the NLD, were harassed by the authorities. One young man was beaten, then dragged off under arrest while his assailant was left untouched.
In spite, or perhaps because, of the
repression and injustices to which they are subjected, the Burmese have a
remarkable capacity for extracting the maximum amount of fun from the
opportunities offered to them during our traditional festivals.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, May 27, 1996
GESTURES ALONE WON'T GUARANTEE
FREEDOM
"A Fishy Episode"
It
is traditional to release caged birds or fish on Burmese New Year's Day as an
act of merit. In April 1989, the last Burmese New Year I celebrated before my
house arrest, we released some doves, launching them into the emptiness above
the
This year the women's wing of the NLD decided to arrange a fish-releasing ceremony on New Year's Day, April 16. They would gather at my house and walk in procession to a pond near the Shwedagon Pagoda where the fish could be released to swim their lives out in peace. The Rangoon Division Law and Order Restoration Council (LORC) was informed of our plan before the beginning of the water festival which precedes the New Year. On April 15, the authorities reacted. A number of township NLD offices received letters from their respective LORCs forbidding them to go ahead with the ceremony. In addition U Aung Shwe, the chairman of the NLD, and two of the members of the Executive Committee were asked to come to the office of the Bahan Township LORC. A statement was read out: The government could not allow the NLD ceremony to take place; as the ceremony would be conducted in the form of a public gathering organized by a political party, it would have to be considered a political activity and the authorities could not allow political benefit to be derived from a traditional ceremony. Further, such a gathering would be detrimental to peace and harmony, to the rule of law and to the prevalence of order. It would disturb and destroy peace and harmony in the nation and incite fear and alarm. U Aung Shwe countered that the whole statement was based on mere assumptions and left a written protest.
The reaction of the authorities was both nonsensical and revealing. The SLORC makes repeated claims that they have succeeded in restoring law and order and peace and harmony to the land. How fragile must be the law and order and peace and harmony to the land. How fragile must be the law and order that can be seriously threatened by a procession of women taking part in a traditional religious ceremony. How insubstantial must be the peace and harmony in a country where such a procession is expected to throw the populace into a panic. We knew that what the authorities really feared was not so much a public disturbance as a demonstration of public support for the NLD. However, New Year's Day should be an auspicious occasion and we wished it to be a day of happiness rather than confrontation, so we canceled our plans for the releasing of fish. We would listen to the chanting of protective sutras and pay our respects to our elders. But the authorities had other plans.
On New Year's Day at about
The planned violence did not materialize
because the NLD members took a firm, disciplined stand. They did not rush the
barricades but they refused to leave on the orders of the security forces. They
waited for a decision to be taken by the members of the Executive Committee who
had been allowed to come to my house. We decided that the ceremony of paying
respect to the elders must go ahead; if our people were prevented from coming
to us, we would go out to them. Accordingly, we walked out through he
barricades to where our people stood and thus an auspicious New Year's Day
ceremony took place in the middle of the street, near a crossroad. It seemed an
omen that the NLF would not lack public attention during the coming year.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the
same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, June 3, 1996
EVERY STURDY STRUCTURE HAS A
SOUND ROOF
"Repairing the Roof"
There is a Burmese saying to the effect that if the roof is not sound the whole house becomes vulnerable to leaks. That is to say, if soundness is lacking at the top there are bound to be problems all along the line until the very bottom
It has certainly been my personal experience over a number of monsoon seasons that a leaking roof renders other improvements to a house futile. During the six months of rain, every spare basin, bucket, saucepan and plastic container in my house has to be commandeered to catch the rivulets that flow in merrily. When there is an especially heavy downpour the containers have to emptied frequently and the myriad small leaks that appear quite suddenly (and disappear just as suddenly) at unexpected places have to be mopped up.
Keeping the inside of the house dry becomes a constant juggle with a variety of vessels and rags. I tried to stop the incessant drips with intricate arrangements of plastic sheets, waterproof tape, putty and other gummy substances. But all these maneuvers succeeded merely in stemming the torrent temporarily and over the years paint, plaster and woodwork in the path of the worst leaks steadily deteriorated.
So making the roof rainproof was at the top of the priority list of essential repairs that we decided has to be undertaken during this dry season. Only when the roof was sound would it become worthwhile to put new paint on walls that have been neglected for several decades and, in general, to make the house cleaner and brighter.
There were some who had the, in my view, horrifying idea of replacing the original tile roof with a corrugated iron one but I held out firmly for rescuing the old tiles and supplementing those that had been damaged beyond redemption with other ones. As soon as the tiles were brought down from the roof the advocates of corrugated iron were totally won over. Each tile was solid and beautifully crafted and baked into it were the name of the company that had produced it, the date (1936, presumably the year the house was built) and a number.
The tiles fit so well into each other that in one part of the roof where the supporting woodwork had rotted away a sheet of tiles as firmly linked together as the best Lego model had managed to keep in place. And once they had been washed clean the tiles glowed a soft red and looked as good as new. I must confess some of us waxed quite lyrical over the beauty and durability of the tiles.
Of course, there were a number that were broken or too badly chipped to be reused so we had to buy replacements from shops that specialized in selling parts of old buildings that had been pulled down. The tiles that we managed to get were slightly different from our original ones, but were equally well crafted and almost as solid and on each of them was the date: 1865. We viewed them with awe and could not help remarking that we human beings, often so proud of our powers and achievements, are not even as durable as a simple brick tile.
For all the metaphors about human clay, in substance we are probably closer to wood. Many of the wooden supports in the roof had not been able to withstand the onslaught of the seasons, despite the fact that only teak had been used. Considering present day prices there was no question of putting in new teak supports. Even old teak was prohibitively expensive so we decided on old /pyinkadoe/ (iron wood), which came, like the 19th century tiles, from buildings that had been pulled down in recent years. The builders thought that with proper maintenance the supports fashioned from old wood should be good for another 60 years.
Repairing the roof involves reorganizing the whole house. I had to keep moving around from room to room as the builders kept removing the tiles. The very day after the first lot of tiles had been removed it rained. Not only buckets and basins and pots and pans were brought into operation on this occasion, there were even a few glass tumblers catching solitary drips. The most abiding impression of the episode was the camaraderie and laughter with which everybody rallied around, viewing the somewhat unseasonable rain not so much as a setback but as a comic interlude. Into each life some rain must fall and how good when its fall contributes to a better atmosphere. For me there was a special bonus: I had moved, together with some bulky furniture, into the hottest room in the house but thanks to the rain it was pleasantly cool most of the time I had to camp there.
While the repairs on the house were going on
life was doubly hectic as I had to cope not only with my routine political work
but also with packing and unpacking, tidying and rearranging furniture. It
occurred to me more than once how important was the contribution of the wives
of my male colleagues. By looking after all household matters and supplying
endless encouragement to their menfolk these indomitable women, to whom the
international media pays scant attention, play an essential role in or
endeavors to repair the roof or our nation.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Sunday, June 9, 1996
STRUGGLE FOR DEMOCRACY
REFRESHED BY NEW SEASON
"Rain Thoughts"
The word "monsoon" has always sounded beautiful to me, possibly because we Burmese, who are rather inclined to indulge in nostalgia, think of the rainy season as most romantic.
As a child, I would stand on the verandah of the house where I was born and watch the sky darken and listen to grownups wax sentimental over smoky banks of massed rain clouds. When the rain came down in rods of glinting crystal, a musically inclined cousin would chat, "Oh, the golden rain is brown," a line from a popular song. I could not make up my mind whether the words were poetic or comic, but I was ready to accept that it was an apt description as I had often seen raindrops shoot out sparks of gold when hit by stray sunbeams against a sky bruised with shades of brown. I was also quite willing to go along with the adult contention that falling rain stirs undefined yearnings for times past even though as a 6-year-old I could not have claimed much of a past. It seemed very grown-up to regard a soft gray day of the monsoons with an appropriate expression of inexplicable sorrow.
One of the first poems I learned, written by
our great poet Min Thu Wun and known to almost every Burmese child,
was about the rains: "In the months of Wahso and Wagaung when the waters
are high, let us go and gather the ripe /thabye/ fruit....."I would ask my
mother for some thabye fruit (Eugenia jambolana) just to see what it was like,
but it was scarce in
In
There is another bit of poetry about thabye fruit and rain quite different from Min Thu Wun's happy evocation of small boys and girls valiantly tramping thorough thorny bushes and braving leeches to find a trove of delicious fruit. It is usually recited in a mournful tone in keeping with Burmese sentiment about the sadness of dripping rain:
"The thabye is in fruit, the waters are
in flood;
The toddy nuts are falling, the rain is unceasing;
Oh, Ko Datha, I long to go back to Mother;
Show me the way ...."
This is based on the Buddhist story of Padasari, the daughter of rich parents who ran away to a far place with one of her house slaves. After bearing two sons she was filled with such longing to see her parents that she asked her husband to take her back home. On the journey, she lost her husband and both children in a series of tragic incidents. She managed to continue on to the land where her parents lived only to discover that her whole family -- father, mother and brother -- had died and just been cremated. The unfortunate young woman lost her mind and wandered around in a state of mad grief until the Lord Buddha taught her how to achieve peace of mind. Padasari is seen as the epitome of the consuming fire of extreme grief. But her tale is essentially one of supreme joy: the joy of victory over the self. There are many pictures that depict Padasari's frantic despair at the loss of her husband and sons, often against a backdrop of rain and storm. On the surface it is not a scene calculated to induce much enthusiasm for wet weather, but because we know that the ultimate outcome is a happy on it does not really dampen one's spirits.
Once more the monsoons have come to
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, June 17, 1996
NLD STRESSES NONVIOLENT PATH
TOWARD DEMOCRACY
"Eight Years Ago"
In
The discontent that had been simmering in the country for years had come to a boil in March 1988 after an incident in a tea shop led to the killing of a university student by members of the security forces, Students held demonstrations demanding an open investigation into the death, and when it became evident that these demands would not be met by the authorities more demonstrations broke out in June. The country was in ferment and in July U Ne Win, the chairman of the BSPP, U San Yu, the president, and a number of the nation's top leaders resigned. At the dramatic emergency congress where the resignations were announced the outgoing chairman declared that a decision should be made as to whether the country should continue under one-party rule or whether it should opt for a multiparty system. He also made the ominous remark that when the army shot, it shot straight.
Within a matter of days it became
sufficiently clear that the new administration under President U Sein Lwin had
no intention of abolishing one party dictatorship. The frustrations that the
people of
It is never easy to convince those who have
acquired power forcibly of the wisdom of peaceful change. On the night of Aug.
8 the army moved to crush the demonstrations, shooting down thousands of
unarmed people, including children, throughout the land. The killings went on
for four days but the demonstrations continued and the president, U Sein Lwin,
resigned. The next president, Dr. Maung Maung, was the first head of state
The SLORC proclaimed that it was not
interested in holding on to power for long and that it would establish
multiparty democracy in
From the very beginning the path the NLD had to tread was far from smooth. The enthusiastic support of the public which led to NLD offices springing up even in the remotest villages brought upon the party the unfriendly attention of the authorities. The SLORC had announced that the military powers would observe a strictly neutral position but it soon became evident that the National Unity Party, as the BSPP had decided to restyle itself, was very much the favored political organization. Harrassment and intimidation become everyday matters for members of the NLD. But we learned to cope and amidst teething pains our party became stronger by the day.
In building up the NLD our chief concern was
to establish a close, mutually beneficial relationship with the general public.
We listened to the voice of the people that our policies might be in harmony
with their legitimate needs and aspirations. We discussed with them the problem
of our country and explained why in spite of its inevitable flaws, we
considered to be better than other political systems. Most important of all, we
sought to make them understand why we believed that political change was best
achieved through nonviolent means.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, June 24, 1996
LIFE IS SELDOM DULL FOR THOSE
WHO DISAGREE
"A Dissident's Life"
Life
is seldom dull for dissidents in
The main issue on which we disagree with
SLORC is the matter of promises. We hold that a promise given to the nation
should be honored, not cast aside with a shrug and a sneer when "it no
longer suits" them. When the military regime took over power in September
1988 it announced that it had no intention of governing the country for a long
period. It would assume the responsibility of bringing genuine multiparty
democracy to
It has been recognized by successive
resolutions of the United Nations General Assembly that the will of the people
of
The presence of an NLD office is generally
made known by its signboard. When political parties were allowed to register
with the Multi-Party Elections Commission in 1988 they were also allowed to put
up party signboards on the exterior walls or perimeter of their offices. But
after a few months during which bright red and white NLD signboards blossomed
all over Burma from big cities to forgotten little hamlets deep in the
countryside, it was announced that no party signboards should be put up in
offices at the village and ward level. The reason given was that a multiplicity
of party signs in small villages and wards would lead to clashes among members
of the respective parties. This was unconvincing as no such clashes had taken
place and in many little villages and wards the NLD was the only party with an
office and a signboard. We discussed the matter with the commission and a
compromise was reached. Signboards would be allowed in village and ward offices
which had already put them up, or sent in applications to put them up before,
if I remember the date correctly,
But there are still villages and wards where
the decision of the commission has been ignored by the local authorities and
NLD offices are still continuing the struggle to be allowed to put up
signboards outside their usually very modest premises. There are places where
NLD offices have been told to reduce the size of their signboards. There have
been cases where local authorities have objected to NLD offices putting back
signboards that had been temporarily removed for renovation. There have been
instances of local authorities forcing NLD offices to remove their signboards;
recently in some towns in the Irrawaddy Division, members of the local Red
Cross and the Union Solidarity and Development Association have joined in these
operations. Where else in the world has the matter of a party signboard turned
into an open-ended saga?
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, July 1, 1996
NLD CONFERENCE SPARKS THREATS
FROM SLORC
"A Dissident's Life (Part 2)"
In
With such unreliable communications
services, inviting people from all over
During the week before the conference was scheduled to take place, nearly 300 elected representatives were arrested. In the face of the protests of the NLD and an international outcry, SLORC claimed that the representatives had merely been taken in for questioning and would be released shortly. This statement was partly correct: our representatives were certainly questioned. There were variations in the questions asked from one part of the country to the other but there were some which come up everywhere: Why was the NLD holding this conference? Was the party going to set up a parallel government? How did the representatives assess the current political situation? What were their political beliefs? How did they think the situation had changed since my release from house arrest? What was their opinion of SLORC? What did they think of its aims and achievements? Did they think dialogue was possible between the NLD and SLORC? What did they think were the chances of success for such a dialogue?
It seemed to us that the authorities were unnecessarily nervous about the idea of the NLD carrying out its routine works as a political organization. We saw no reason why a conference of some 300 people should be viewed as an event which would create chaos and throw the country into confusion. We decided to adapt plans to accord with the situation. As the great majority of our elected representatives were in detention we decided that we would expand the conference to a congress, the first of a series which would lay down a future work program for our party.
In addition to our elected representatives, the authorities had also taken into custody a number of party workers and members of my office staff. Other party workers rallied around to fill the gaps that had been left and preparations for the congress proceeded in an atmosphere that was a cross between a crusade and a carnival, with everybody determined to keep faith with those who had been arrested by making a success of the occasion. The people also rallied around to demonstrate their solidarity. On the weekend of the congress our usual public meetings outside my house were attended by record numbers of supporters in spite of the inclement weather.
The three days of the congress went by quickly, leaving us all exhausted but thoroughly satisfied with what had been accomplished in the face of so much harassment and intimidation. But it was of course not the end of the story. A few days after the congress was over the authorities started releasing those who had been arrested. We then learned that there had been a systematic campaign to try to make our elected representatives relinquish their status as members of Parliament and to give up their membership in our party. To some it was merely suggested that such steps would be desirable but there were cases where pressure was exerted. There were threats of prison sentences, loss of business opportunities, evictions from state-owned apartments, dismissal from their jobs of family members who belonged to the civil service.
NLD workers are often "reminded"
of the possible consequences of continued involvement in politics. In the
middle of the night there could be a pounding on the door that signals arrest.
Members of the security forces could be lying in wait at a dark corner of a
market place, ready to pounce. Life is certainly not dull for dissidents in
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, July 8, 1996
POLITICAL STRUGGLE IS THE TRUE
TEST OF FRIENDSHIP
"A Friend In Need"
Many indeed are the uses of adversity, and one of the most valuable is the unique opportunities it offers for discovering little-known aspects of the human society in which we live. The experience gained by those of us who have borne the full force of state persecution is not always comfortable, but it is very enriching. Injustice and cruelty are transformed from the ingredients of a ripping drama to the hazards of everyday existence.
Once poetic concepts such as villainy and honor, cowardice and heroism, become common currency; the stuff of epics is lived through from day to day. Duplicity and treachery cease to be merely the vivid creations of imaginative writers and become instead the trappings of familiars who have basked in one's affections and partaken freely of one's goodwill. The kiss of Judas is no longer just a metaphor, it is the repeated touch of cool perfidity on one's cheek. Those once held in trust and esteem show themselves capable of infinite self-deception as they seek to deceive others. Spines ostensibly made of steel soften and bend like wax in the heat of a high Burmese summer.
But man stripped of all props except that of his spirit is astounding not only in the depths he is capable of plumbing, but also the heights that he can scale. An individual who appears weak turns out to possess adamantine qualities. The easy-going "featherweight" demonstrates a solid capacity for self-sacrifice and integrity.
The most indifferent seeming character unexpectedly proves to be a fountain of warmth and kindness; a caring, meticulous nursemaid to those suffering physical pain or mental anguish. The glaring light of adversity reveals all the rainbow hues of the human character and brings out the true colors of people, particularly those who purport to be your friends.
There is an anthology of pithy sayings, the
/Lokaniti/, which has traditionally been regarded in
During the hectic days of late May and early June, when a series of critical political events were triggered off by the arrests of the members of the National League for Democracy (NLD), a stream of foreign correspondents came to find out how we were coping with the situation. A number of them commented on the fact that we did not appear to be unhappy. "U Tin U is smiling broadly and U Kyi Maung is cracking jokes," one said. "Why are you not in a state of distress? Isn't the situation rather grim?"
I suppose the situation could have been seen as grim by some, but to us, it was just another challenge; and the knowledge that we were facing it together with proven friends was ample reason for good cheer.
A doctor once recommended thinking happy thoughts as a most effective remedy for diverse illnesses. Certainty one of the happiest of thoughts is of one's friends: old friends with whom you have shared youthful dreams of an ideal world, new friends with whom you are striving to achieve a realistic version of that ideal. It is comforting to know that friends you have not met for several decades, leading secure lives in countries where their rights are protected by law, care as much for your welfare now as they did in the days when the Beatles were young and you argued over Dag Hammarskjold's /Markings/. Friends telephone across continents and oceans to find out how I am and to exchange news.
We never talk about anything world shaking, never discuss anything out of the ordinary, we just make conventional inquiries about each other's health and families and a few light hearted remarks about the current situation. But each unimportant conversation is a solemn confirmation of friendship. I have a friend who, if I happen to be too busy to take the call, leaves a simple message: "Tell her I called." It is enough to dissolve all the cares of the day.
According to the teachings of Buddhism, a good friend is one who gives things hard to give, does what is hard, bears with hard words, tells you his secrets, guards your secrets assiduously, does not forsake you in times of want and does not condemn you when you are ruined.
With such friends, one can travel the
roughest road and not be defeated by hardship. Indeed, the rougher the path,
the greater the delight in the company of /kalyanamitta/, good and noble
friends who stand by us in times of adversity.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Sunday, July 14, 1996
JULY IS A MONTH OF MOMENTOUS
ANNIVERSARIES
It is not a month that seems to inspire poetic outpourings. Perhaps it is the in-between ordinariness of July, caught between summer pretty June and summer glorious August, that fails to stimulate the imagination. I cannot recollect a single poem dedicated to July except for an excruciating one I wrote, as a classroom exercise in my school in Delhi, that began "In July, month of rain and dust ..." It is the time of year in North India when the monsoons have just begun and the dust storms of the hot, dry season have not yet cleared away.
But dull, in-between July is a month of
momentous anniversaries. There is Bastille Day and American Independence Day
and the July Conspiracy against Hitler. In
The assassinations had been arranged by a veteran politician, U Saw, who chose the way of violence, rather than the way of the ballot box, as the primary means for achieving political power. He had boycotted the elections of April 1947 in which my father's party, the Anti-Fascist People's Freedom League (AFPFL), had won an overwhelming victory. But although he had neither contested for nor gained the mandate of the people, U Saw thought that once he had removed those he saw as his arch rivals, he would be called upon to form a new government. In the event it was U Nu, the most senior member of the AFPFL left alive, who succeeded my father.
Fourteen years after
Twenty-six years after the destruction of
the historic Union building, the actions of the students of
July is an eventful month for me personally
as well. It was on
And it was on July 10 last year that I was
released. When U Aung Shwe, U Kyi Maung, U Tin U and I met that evening we
simple decided to pick up where we had left off six years ago, to continue our
work. It remains in my memory as a quiet day, not a momentous one.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, July 22, 1996
BURMESE POLITICS FULL OF
COMPLEXITIES AND INTRIGUE
"Mystery Weekend"
Once upon a time, I read a biography of Arthur James Balfour of Balfour Declaration fame. The book did not really make the man come alive for me, leaving the impression that he was either too private or too intellectual to come across as a vivid human being; or that the author could not do his subtle personality justice. Nevertheless, I liked what I learned about the "happy prime minister." I particularly liked him for the fact that in spite of the metaphysical dabbling which troubled some of his political colleagues, he possessed a healthy appreciation for the detective story. He was said to have advised a young man that the best way to get a really good rest was not to go away for the weekend but to shut himself up in the house with a detective story. (Or perhaps he said several detective stories). In any case it is a piece of advice I consider very sound indeed. Some of the most relaxing weekends I have ever enjoyed were those I spent quietly with a sense of all work to date completed, and an absorbing mystery.
My introduction to the detective story was, very conventionally, through Sherlock Holmes. I was about 9 years old when a cousin enthralled me with the story of The Blue Carbuncle. Soon after, I was either given or lent a book about Bugs Bunny's antics involving some Big Red Apples. On reading it I was struck by the inanity of the plot: How could Bugs Bunny's adventures compare with those of a man who could, from a careful examination of a battered old hat, gauge the physical and mental attributes, the financial situation and the matrimonial difficulties of its erstwhile owner? I decided that detectives were far more interesting and entertaining that anthropomorphized animals.
My childhood affection for Sherlock Holmes
did not wane even after I learnt to think in terms of whodunits rather than
detective stories. The lean, laconic individual of
While Inspector Maigret is a great favorite,
Madame Maigret is an even greater favorite. I like best the stories in which
she features large and comfortable, the image of a good "memere,"
always at her cooking pots, always polishing, always mollycoddling her big baby
of a husband. Even more than the domestic vignettes of the Maigrets, I enjoy
descriptions of the sights and smells of
It is probably because of my love of experimenting in the kitchen, a pastime in which I no longer have time to indulge, that the eating habits of fictional characters are of such interest to me. I seem to remember that in one of his adventures, which I read years ago and the title of which I have forgotten, Maigret expressed a dislike for calves' liver; in another, however, he claims that if there is anything he likes better than hot calves' liver a la bonne femme, it was the same dish served cold. An inconsistency as intriguing as any of his cases. I cannot recall with clarity a single plot of any of the stories about Nero Wolfe that I have read but the flavor of the confabulation he had about food with his Swiss chef lingers. And it was because this obese private investigator's fulsome praise of the chicken fricassee with dumplings he ate at a church fete that I learnt to cook that deliciously homely dish.
Of course one does not read whodunits for
memorable descriptions of food. Does George Smiley ever eat? I cannot remember.
And one does not recollect, as one follows the developments of espionage in
Why is it that Englishwomen produce some of
the best crime fictions? I am thinking of Dorothy Sayers, Josephine Tey, P.D.
James and Ruth Rendall. Theses and probably books have been written on that subject.
It is a mystery I would like to have the opportunity to mull over some time
when a weekend of leisure becomes a possibility. In the meantime, there are
enough complexities in Burmese politics to keep one's faculties for unraveling
intrigue fully engaged.
This article is one of a yearlong series
of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun
the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, August 5, 1996
Photos and the Art of
Relaxation
Apparently, there are people who actually enjoy the unblinking scrutiny of a camera lens and the relentless glare of flashlights. I am not one of them as I often find it quite exhausting to pose for photographers when there is an insistent piece of work waiting to be completed, or when I am longing for a few quiet minutes with a cup of tea.
But with seasoned professionals who have a clear idea of what kind of pictures they would like and how these could be best achieved in prevailing circumstances, a photographic session provides an opportunity for a welcome period of relaxation, time off in the middle of a frantic schedule.
It is good to sit for photographers who are able to explain precisely what they would like you to do but who, at the same time, remain fully aware that you are a human being with muscles that tire and ache when held in rigid positions, not a robot model with a fixed smile. I like best those occasions when I can read peacefully or prop myself up against a bit of furniture and take a little rest while the camera clicks away unobtrusively.
During a session with two pleasant photographers the other day, I was able to go through almost the whole of "From the Morning of the World," a slim volume of poems translated from the "Manyoshu." Sitting on a verandah in the cool stillness of the monsoon afternoon, I savoured again some of the fa rite lines. It was refreshing to take my mind off the rate of inflation, and instead, to dwell on images of winter mist hanging low over blue reed beds and wild ducks calling "chill, chill " to each other. The description of a flowering orange tree blanching a backyard is a soothing change from an analysis of the yo-yoing of the value of the Burmese currency. And compared with the latest reports on the harassment of NLD members, a man riding "haggard on the jet black horse under the scarlet shine of autumn leaves on Kamunabi," presented a relatively tranquil vision.
A poem by a priest provided enough food for thought to take me through a fair part of the photographic session:
With what should I compare this world ?
With the white wake left behind
A ship that dawn watched row away
Out of its own conceiving mind.
The whole world no more than mere spume and those busy cameras clicking away trying to capture and preserve on celluloid a transient fleck of existence.
From where does man's passion for recording people and events spring? Did cave dwellers paint hunting scenes to pass an idle hour or was it the fulfillment of an unconscious need to immortalize their deeds for posterity? Or was it an attempt to communicate to others their view of life around them, an embryonic form of media activity?
What are newspapers, radio, television, and other means of mass communication all about? Some who put more emphasis on the mass than on the communication might say cynically that these are simply about making money by catering to the public taste for sensationalism and scandal. But genuine communication constitutes a lot more than mere commerce in news, views and information.
During the year since my release from house arrest, I have met hundreds of journalists, both professional and amateur. There were days when I had to give so many interviews in quick succession, I felt a little dazed. There were times when I was so tired I was not able to do much more than repeat the same answers to the same questions, feeling very much like a schoolgirl repeating a lesson in class. There have been agonising sessions when language difficulties make it a struggle for the interviewer and myself to communicate with each other. Then there are those sessions when perception, rather than language, is the problem and questions puzzle while answers are misunderstood and are sometimes misrepresented to the extent that there is little in common between what was said and what appears in print. It all shows that communication between human beings is interesting, frustrating, exhilarating, infuriating intricate, exhausting- and essential.
Experienced professional journalists can make even the last interview of a gruelling day more of a relaxation than an ordeal. They know how to put their questions so that new facets appear to an old situation and talking to them becomes a learning process. They combine thorough, inquiring minds. with an integrity and a human warmth that make conversation with them stimulating and enjoyable. Good photographers and good journalists are masters in the art of communication, with a talent for presenting as accurately as possible what is happening in one part of the world to the rest of the globe. They are a boon to those of us who live in lands where there is not freedom of expression.
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, August 19, 1996
SLORC FIGHTS DEMOCRACY WITH
CRUELTY, BARBARISM
Death in Custody (1)
On Aug. 2, U Hla Than, an NLD member of Parliament elected in 1990, died in the Rangoon General Hospital as a political prisoner of the SLORC (State Law and Order Restoration Council).
His constituency, the
The penal settlement was dismantled in the late 1960s and there remained on the island a naval outpost, a skeleton administration and several families who were largely engaged in work connected with the coconut industry. The total population in 1990 was a little over 1,000.
U Hla Than and four other members of the NLD set out for Greater Coco Island on May 4, 1990, 23 days before the elections were scheduled to take place. There they established their headquarters in a small wood and bamboo bungalow and went to walk with the will to win support for their cause.
House to house canvassing was not permitted, there were strict regulations regarding the distribution of pamphlets and after U Hla Than had visited the home of a school teacher a couple of times, he was asked to sign an undertaking not to make any more visits to the house of any civil servant. He refused, explaining that he had merely been paying social calls, not engaging in any electioneering work.
Despite the restrictions, the intrepid five carried on with their mission to convey their message of democracy to the people of the islands long cut adrift from political developments on the mainland.
Although the monsoons had already begun, the
morning of May 27 dawned sunny. Nearly 450 of the 613 people on the island
above the age of 18 cast their votes in the two polling stations to choose
between U Hla Than and the candidate of the National Union Party, the erstwhile
Burma Socialist Program Party which had ruled the country for 26 years. Voting
ended around
The NLD candidate won with 56.94 percent of
the eligible votes. What took place on
At the time he was elected as a member of Parliament, U Hla Than was 45 years old. He was
born to a family of peasant farmers and completed his secondary school
education in
U Hla Than took an
active part in the democracy movement of 1988 as member of the Rangoon Lawyers
Association. Later he joined the NLD and became the party committee chairman of
one of the important townships of the Rangoon Division. When preparations for
the elections began, he offered to stand as the party candidate in the
The official announcements of the results of the elections were dragged out over weeks but it was widely known with in a matter of days that the NLD had won a spectacular victory. The country was in a jubilant mood, proud of the outcome of the first democratic elections in three decades, full of hope for the future, confident that at last there would be a government which would be transparent and accountable and which would gain trust and respect both at home and abroad.
Few in
It was some two months after the elections when SLORC still showed no signs of relinquishing power, or of convening Parliament, that a climate of unease began to set in. And when U Kyi Maung and other key members of the NLD were taken into custody in September, the unease turned into dismay and disillusionment. The next month, a number of members of Parliament, including U Hla Than, were arrested. In April 1991 U Hla Than was tried by a martial law court, accused of complicity in attempts to set up a parallel government, and sentenced to 25 years imprisonment for high treason. Now, five years later, he is dead, the victim of a warped process of law and a barbaric penal system.
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, August 26, 1996
NLD ACTIVISTS FACE APPALLING
PRISON CONDITIONS
"Death in Custody (2)"
The death certificate of U Hla Than, NLD
member of Parliament for the Coco Islands who died on Aug. 2 as a political
prisoner of the present military regime of Burma, stated that he had died of
"extensive Koch's lung [tuberculosis] and HIV infection."
Coincidentally on the day of his death, extracts from a report on conditions in
Burmese prisons by a former student activist who had served time in the
infamous Insein Jail where U Hla Than was incarcerated for nearly six years,
appeared in The Nation newspaper of Bangkok. The report states that owing to
drug abuse "there is ... a high prevalence of HIV/AIDS in prisons. When
administering injections, the doctors give only half or less than half of the
phial to one patient, giving the rest to another patient from the same needle
and syringe, almost guaranteeing that any blood-carried infections will
spread." There can be little doubt that U Hla Than's
death was brought about by the abysmal prison conditions that do not bear
scrutiny by independent observers. The ICRC left
U Hla Than is
certainly not the first prisoner of conscience to have died in the custody of
SLORC. Some leading members of the NLD can be counted among those who have
given their lives for the right to adhere to their deeply held political principles.
The first of those was U Maung Ko who, ironically, died during the visit of
Mrs. Sadako Ogata, who had been sent by the United Nations Human Rights
Commission to make enquiries into the human rights situation in
U Maung Ko was arrested and taken to Insein
Jail during the crackdown on democracy activists in October 1990. In less than
three weeks, on Nov. 9, he was dead. His family learnt of his death from
workers at the
The next NLD victim among the political prisoners of SLORC was U Ba Thaw, better known as the writer Maung Thaw Ka. /Hsaya/ (the Burmese equivalent of /sensei/, or teacher) Maung Thaw Ka, as he was affectionately addressed by friends, colleagues and admirers, was an unforgettable character. He served in the Burmese Navy for many years and was involved in a shipwreck in 1956 while serving as the commanding officer on a coast guard cutter patrolling the southeastern coastline. When his vessel foundered, Lt. Ba Thaw and the 26 other navy personnel on board transferred to two inflated rubber life rafts. One life raft was lost with all nine passengers on board but the second life raft was rescued by a Japanese ship 12 days later. By then, seven of the 18 men on the life raft were dead and other man died on the rescue ship. Maung Thaw Ka wrote a gripping book about the harrowing time he and his mates spent under a searing sun on the small life raft, which carried only boiled sweets and water sufficient to keep 10 men alive for three days.
Hsaya Maung Thaw Ka's irrepressible sense of
humor came across in many of his writings, which could perhaps be described as
satire without malice. One of his witticisms became highly popular during the
years of socialist rule in
Hsaya Maung Thaw Ka was also a poet. He not only wrote his own poetry, he translated many poems from English to Burmese, some of which were surprisingly romantic: the love poetry of Shakespeare, Robert Herrick, John Donne and Shelley. There was also a translation of William Cowpers' "The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk," which he said was dedicated to himself. Perhaps it was the last verse that appealed to him.
"But the seafowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There is mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives affliction a grace
And reconciles man to his lot."
But there was no mercy for Hsaya Maung Thaw Ka in Insein Jail.
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, September 2, 1996
PRISON MAY BREAK THE BODY, BUT
NOT THE SPIRIT
"Death in custody (3)"
Hsaya Maung Thaw Ka was arrested in 1989 and sentenced by a martial law court to 20 years' imprisonment in October of that year. The SLORC had accused him of seeking to cause an insurrection within the armed forces. At the time he entered Insein Jail, Hsaya Maung Thaw Ka was already suffering from a chronic disease that was laying his muscles to waste. His movements were stiff and jerky, and everyday matters, such as bathing, dressing or eating, involved for him a series of difficult maneuvers which could barely be completed without assistance. For a man with his health problems, life in solitary confinement was a continuous struggle to cope. And Hsaya Maung Thaw Ka struggled manfully. But his already much-eroded physical system was unable to withstand the inhuman conditions of Insein Jail for long. In June 1991, Hsaya Maung Thaw Ka, navy officer and humorist, poet and political activist, died in custody at the age of 65.
Even during his darkest days in prison, Hsaya Maung Thaw Ka's muse did not desert him. In secret he composed poems about the gross injustices committed under military dictatorship with a biting anger entirely removed from his delicate rendering of old English sonnets. "Twenty years, they say ... in accordance with that (legal) section of all things that is unclean and despicable," he wrote with contempt of the sentence which, for him, turned out to be one of death.
October and November of 1990 were months
when the SLORC carried out a major crackdown against the movement for
democracy. It was in these months that numbers of National League for Democracy
members of Parliament were brought into Insein Jail. Among these men, elected
by the people of
U Tin Maung was kept in prison for seven
years. But neither that experience, nor the even more deadening one of life for
a quarter of a century under the
U Tin Maung Win spent a month at Ye-Kyi-ain, an infamous military intelligence interrogation center, before he was sent to Insein Jail. When he was charged with high treason in January 1991, he was not able to be present at his trial because he was too ill. By Jan. 18, U Tin Maung Win was dead. The authorities claimed that he had died of leukemia but before he was incarcerated just four months previously there had been no sign that he was suffering from such a grave disease. It is the contention of those who saw his body before burial that he died as a result of ill treatment in prison.
Last year, U Kyi Saung, secretary of the NLD
branch in Myaungmya, a town the
I have written only about well-known members
of the NLD who died in custody but they are not the only victims of
authoritarian injustice. Prisoners of conscience who lost their lives during
the 1990s represent a broad range of the Burmese political spectrum and even
include a Buddhist monk. Of those sacrificed to the misrule of law, the oldest
was 70-year-old Boh Set Yaung, a member of the Patriotic Old Comrades' League,
and the youngest was a 19-year-old member of the NLD. The exact number of
deaths in custody cannot be ascertained but it is not small and it is rising
all the time. The price of liberty has never been cheap and in
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, September 9, 1996
FAITH EASES THE MIND IN TIMES
OF POLITICAL TURMOIL
Vassa, the rainy season retreat, has begun.
It is a time for offering robes to monks and for making special efforts toward
gaining a better understanding of Buddhist values. In
Not long before my house arrest in 1989, I was granted an audience with the venerable U Pandita, an exceptional teacher in the best tradition of great spiritual mentors whose words act constantly as an aid to a better existence. Hsayadaw (holy teacher) U Pandita spoke of the importance of sammavaca or right speech. Not only should one speak only the truth, one's speech should lead to harmony among beings, it should be kind and pleasant and it should be kind and pleasant and it should be beneficial. One should follow the example of the Lord Buddha who only spoke words that were trustful and beneficial, even if at times such speech was not always pleasing to the listener.
The Hsayadaw also urged me to cultivate sati, mindfulness. Of the five spiritual faculties, saddha (faith), viriya (energy), sati, samadhi (concentration) and panna (wisdom), it is only sati that can never be in excess. Excessive faith without sufficient wisdom leads to blind faith, while excessive wisdom without sufficient energy leads to undesirable cunning. Too much energy concentration leads to indolence. But as for sati, one can never have too much of it, it is "never in excess, but always in deficiency." The truth and value of this Buddhist concept that Hsayadaw U Pandita took such pains to impress on me became evident during my years of house arrest.
Like many of my Buddhist colleagues, I decided to put my time under detention to good use by practicing meditation. It was not an easy process. I did not have a teacher and my early attempts were more than a little frustrating. There were days when I found my failure to discipline my mind in accordance with prescribed meditation practices so infuriating I felt I was doing myself more harm than good. I think I would have given up but for the advice of a famous Buddhist teacher, that whether or not one wanted to practice meditation, one should do so for ones' own good. So I gritted my teeth and kept at it, often rather glumly. Then my husband gave me a copy if Gsatadaw Y Oabduta's book, "In this Very Life, The Liberation Teachings of the Buddha." By studying this book carefully, I learnt how to overcome difficulties of meditation and to realize its benefits. I learnt how practicing meditation led to increased mindfulness in everyday life and again and again. I recalled the Hsayadaw's words on the importance of sati with appreciation and gratitude.
In my political work, I have been helped and
strengthened by the teachings of members of the sangha. During my very first
campaign trip across
In a monastery at Pakokku, the advice that an abbot gave to my father when he went to that town more than 40 years age was repeated to me: "Do not be frightened every time there is an attempt to frighten you, but do not be entirely without fear. Do not become elated every time you are praised, but do not be entirely lacking in elation." In other words, while maintaining courage and humility, one should not abandon caution and healthy self-respect.
When I visited Natmauk, my father's home town, I went to the monastery where he studied as a boy. There the abbot gave a sermon on the four causes of decline and decay: failure to recover that which had been lost, omission to repair that which had been damaged; disregard of the need for reasonable economy; and the elevation to leadership of those without morality or learning. The abbot went on to explain how these traditional Buddhist views should be interpreted to help us build a just and prosperous society in the modern age.
Of the words of wisdom I gathered during
that journey across central
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, September 16, 1996
DEFINING POLITICAL DEFIANCE
"Some Problems of Definition"
There is an expression much bandied about
these days which, in its Burmanized form, sounds very much like "jeans shirt."
This has nothing to do with the denim mania that has come to
At a government press conference this month,
more references were made to political defiance. When a correspondent asked
whether these political defiance courses initiated by Gene Sharp trained people
to commit political assassinations and other accts of violence, a spokesman for
SLORC (State Law and Order Restoration Council) said they did not know, as they
had not attended any of those courses. It is very puzzling that courses about
the contents of which the authorities are totally ignorant should be seen as in
any way connected with treason. It was also alleged at the press conference
that I had talked about political defiance with an American visitor. When a
correspondent asked me whether this was so, I said that it was not so, as I
could not at all recall any conversation about Gene Sharp or his books or the
courses in political defiance he is said to have conducted. Later, it occurred
to me that both my interviewer and I had merely been thinking of political
defiance in terms of SLORC-speak. In fact, political defiance is no more
synonymous with Gene Sharp than with denim shirts. It can be defined simply as
the natural response of anybody who disagrees with the opinions of the
government in power. In that sense, the great majority of people in
Another interesting question posed by a correspondent at the SLORC press conference was why the authorities objected to the opposition carrying out its work. The answer was that it was dangerous. A government that has promised a transfer to "multiparty democracy" views the work of the opposition as DANGEROUS? A self-proclaimed conservationist might as well chop down trees indiscriminately and massacre rare, and not so rare, species with wild abandon.
There are two problems of definition in the above paragraph. This repeated reference to "multiparty democracy" since the SLORC took over power: Surely the expression is tautology? And "one-party democracy" would be oxymoronic. Democracy basically means choice, and political choice means the existence of more than one effective political party or force. "Democracy" by itself should be sufficient to indicate a pluralistic political approach.
Then there is the question of the word "opposition." The NLD (National League for Democracy) is often referred to as "the opposition." But it was the NLD that won the only democratic elections held in more than 30 years and won them with an overwhelming majority such as was not achieved by any other political party in those countries that made the transition from dictatorship to democracy in the 1980s and 1990s. The word "opposition," when applied to a party which won the unequivocal mandate of the people, takes on a peculiar ring. But leaving that aside, how does one define the work of an opposition in any country which claims to be heading toward (multiparty) democracy?
A group guided by the political legacy of a prominent communist leader who engaged in armed rebellion against the government for several decades after Burma regained her independence, and who later laid down arms and recanted, came to see me some months ago. They read out the political guidelines laid down by their late leader which, among other things, condemned the idea of any work aimed at removing a government in power. I explained to them that this was unacceptable to anybody who truly believed in democracy. In a genuine democracy, it is the legitimate function of opposition parties to work at removing the government through the democratic process. Any political ideology that disallows parties from carrying out opposition activities and presenting themselves to the country as viable alternatives to the existing government cannot be said to have anything to do with democracy. To view opposition as dangerous is to misunderstand the basic concepts of democracy. To oppress the opposition is to assault the very foundations of democracy.
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, September 23, 1996
BURMA
"Misrule of Law"
As I understand it, a kangaroo court is so called because it is a burlesque performance where the process of the law takes heart-stopping leaps and bounds. Out of curiosity, I looked up the entry on kangaroos in the Encyclopedia Britannica to see how far these marsupial mammals can clear in a leap. Apparently the record is 13.5 meters. This far superior to the Olympics long jump record. It is no surprise then that the erratic course of justice in a kangaroo court is outside the bounds of normal human conduct.
I have written about the challenges that
political dissidents in
Many of them are already seasoned jail veterans who, at casual moments, exchange prison yarns and instruct the as yet uninitiated on such matters as the kind of treatment they can expect at the interrogation sessions and what they should take with them when the banging on the door comes: change of clothing, soap, toothpaste and toothbrush, medicines, a blanket or two, et cetera, all in a plastic bag. Nothing so respectable as a knapsack or suitcase is permitted. And do not be fooled if the people who turn up at the door, usually without a warrant, say that they will only be keeping you for a few days. That could well translate into a 20-year sentence.
When U Win Htein, a key member of my office staff, was arrested one night last May, he had a bag already packed. He had previously spent six years in Insein Jail: He was one of the people taken away from my house in 1989 on the day I was detained and he was released only in February 1995. When U Win Htein asked those who had come to take him away whether they had an arrest warrant, they replied that it was not necessary as charges had already been moved against him and his sentence had been decided. So much for the concept of the law that deems a person innocent until proven guilty.
Section 340 (1) of the Code of Criminal
Procedure provides that "any person accused of an offense before a
criminal court, or against who proceedings are instituted under this code, in
any such court, may of right be defended by a pleader." This basic right
to counsel is systematically denied to political prisoners in
The authorities generally refuse to give any information on detainees who have not yet been tried. The NLD and the families of political prisoners have to make strenuous inquiries to find out where they are, with what "crime" they would be charged and when and where the trials would take place. Usually the trials of political prisoners are conducted in a special courthouse within the jail precincts.
Last month, a number of political prisoners were tried in Insein Jail. When the NLD heard that U Win Htein and some others were going to be produced at court on a certain day, a lawyer was sent to defend them. The Special Branch officer at the jail questioned by the lawyer said he did not know anything about a trial. But the trial took place while the lawyer was waiting at the gate and continued after he left in the afternoon. The next week, a number of lawyers again went to Insein Jail, accompanied by the families of the prisoners, on the day they had heard the trial was to continue. This time they managed to get into the prison courthouse. However, they were only allowed to cross-examine four of the 24 witnesses for the prosecution.
The next morning, the lawyers and the
families of the prisoners arrived in Insein Jail at
The magistrate eventually arrived and
entered the prison precincts at around
The sight of kangaroos bounding away across an open prairie can sometimes be rather beautiful. The spectacle of the process of law bounding away from accepted norms of justice is very ugly at all times.
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, September 30, 1996
CORRUPTION LURKS BENEATH
SERENE SURFACE
"Uncivil Service (1)"
Visitors to
Take a taxi through the streets of
There is more to running a car than finding a good source for petrol. Car licenses have to be renewed annually. Owners have to ask the Department of Road Transport Administration for a date on which their vehicles can be inspected and passed as roadworthy. If you do not want to go through the rigmarole of making an appointment in advance, you pay a certain sum of money to have car checked immediately. Then you go on to bribe the person assigned to check your vehicle. Otherwise, you will be sent back to change the lights, or to repaint the chassis, or to replace some part of the engine. People have been sent away as many as four or five times to undertake repairs "necessary" to make the vehicle roadworthy until they saw the light and produced several hundred kyats. It is no use complaining or getting angry, the employees in the Department of Road Transport Administration have to make ends meet.
Making ends meet is the overriding
preoccupation of civil servants in
There are those who would say that Burmese
people are resourceful by nature. It is more likely the case that all peoples
who have to live under a system where following the straight and narrow path
too often leads to impecuniosity learn to be
resourceful. And in such situations, "resourceful" is often a
euphemism for "dishonest" or "corrupt." If you happen to
work in the electricity department in
If you work in the telecommunications department too, you put your "resourcefulness" to quick use. When a telephone fails to work the owner has to appeal for repairs. And the most effective appeals are those a solid pecuniary nature. As in the electricity department, the pay-up-or-be-cut tactic can assure a regular source of supplementary income. The long waiting list for telephones also provides employees in the telecommunications department with opportunities for exercising their ingenuity. They can "cooperate" in the transfer of already connected telephones to different owners, or they can expedite the connection of a new telephone. All, of course, for a certain consideration, which could amount to a five-figure sum.
The Inland Revenue Department, as might be expected, is a section of the civil service where employees can earn "on the side" sums many times larger than their regular salaries. The best customers of this department are businessmen who have no inhibitions about evading taxes. But that does not mean honest businessmen who wish to declare their incomes correctly are safe from the resourcefulness (or capacity, if you wish) of the personnel of the department. Their taxable income is arbitrarily assessed at a rate far higher than the correct one until they decide that honesty is not, after all, the best policy in dealing with such matters and agree to cooperate with the officials concerned.
The corruption of the civil services is not just an urban phenomenon. Farmers have to sell a quota of their harvest to the government at stipulated prices well below the market rate. The state employees who weigh the grain at rice depots manage to put aside a substantial amount of rice for themselves. This rice they sell at the market price to those farmers who have had bad harvest, so they can produce the necessary government quota for which, of course, the poor farmers are only paid the state price. It is no wonder that civil servants are generally viewed as public predators rather than public benefactors.
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Monday, October 7, 1996
MOMENTS OF CALM PROVIDE TIME
FOR REFLECTION
"Strange siege"
As I have remarked often enough, life is
certainly not dull for dissidents in
The National League for Democracy decided to hold an All Burma Party Congress on the eighth anniversary of the day when it was founded, the 27th of September. Now one might have thought that such an event, which is part of the normal routine of any political party, would not have caused the authorities to do more than perhaps cock an inquisitive eyebrow and set the military intelligence running around busily gathering information. One would not have imagined that they would be rocked to the very soles of their military boots. Well, one would have been wrong.
On the evening of the 26th, we received
information that once again, as at the time of our proposed conference for NLD
Members of Parliament in May, the authorities were
rounding up those who were to attend the Congress. Around
At
I learned that a number of NLD members who
had come for the Congress were at the road junction not far from my house where
barricades had been placed to prevent people from entering the street. At about
This time also the USDA were present, a couple of busloads of them milling around in the public garden at the top of the road for a purpose that we found hard to discern. When we reached the road junction, our party members who had been made to go to the other side of the street came over to ask us what we wanted them to do. We told them to go to our headquarters, and were just about to go back home ourselves when an army officer came to ask us to disperse. It was a typical over-reaction, unnecessary and quite senseless, as the crowd around us was made up largely of security personnel, uniformed as well as in plain clothes.
That afternoon, after the religious ceremony to commemorate the founding of the NLD had been completed, U Aung Shwe and I went out to see how things were at the party headquarters. We found that the road where the building was situated had also been closed off. That very evening, the landlord was illegally forced to annul the lease and to remove the NLD signboard from the building. The authorities had obviously decided to take all possible steps to prevent us from carrying out the legitimate work of a normal political party.
Now, nearly a week after the 27th, the road to my house continues to be blocked off. But U Aung Shwe, U Kyi Maung and U Tin U come over every day and we carry on with our work. "It is always still at the center of the storm," U Tin U remarked. And certainly there has been great calm in my house even as the authorities have been arresting hundreds of our supporters, making wild accusations against us and trying to force the landlords of our party offices to remove NLD signboards.
There is the proverbial silver lining to these storm clouds of increased official repression. The state of semisiege provides me with an opportunity to take a rest from the gruelling timetable that I normally follow. I do not have to rush through my meals, and I have even been able to spare an hour a day for walking round and round the garden: a wonderfully relaxing and invigorating form of exercise in which I have not been able to indulge for years. This strange interlude should serve to make me fighting fit for whatever challenges we may have to face in the future.
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Letter from Burma
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Sunday, October 13, 1996
CORRUPTION WHITTLES AWAY AT
STATE SERVICES
"Pay as You Go"
On my release from house arrest last year,
people gathered outside the gates of my home to greet me and to demonstrate
their support for the movement for democracy. It was the monsoon season and the
crowds would stand and wait in the dripping rain until I went out to speak to
them. This continued day after day for more than a month; then I negotiated
with our supporters an arrangement which was more convenient for all concerned:
We would meet regularly at
A few months after the weekend rallies had become established as a regular political feature, I invited the audience to write to me about matters they would like me to discuss. The response was immediate and enthusiastic. Letters on a wide range of subjects, political, economic, social and religious, were put into the mailbox we hung outside the gate for that purpose. A recurring theme in these letters, which continue to come in, is the widespread corruption among civil servants, in particular in the sectors of health and education.
In
Patients not only have to make their own arrangements for getting the necessary medical supplies, they also have to bribe the hospital staff in order to receive satisfactory service.
It is not just doctors and nurses who have to be sweetened with gifts; hospital orderlies also have to be paid if one's time as an invalid is to be passably comfortable. Apparently it is a common practice for orderlies to neglect their cleaning duties unless they are duly compensated. And they are also said to give patients who have to be wheeled from one part of the hospital to another a rough ride until a requisite sum of money has changed hands. Then there are the door keepers and other administrative staff whose hands have to be greased to smooth the path of family members who need to go in and out at all hours to delivery necessary supplies.
While nothing can excuse callousness in those who should be giving succor to the ill and dying, it cannot be ignored that the deterioration in state health care is largely the result of maladministration. High motivation cannot be expected of grossly underpaid staff working with poorly maintained equipment and dilapidated, unhygienic surroundings.
In recent years, the emergence of a private sector has made health care at expensive clinics and nursing homes available to those who are well off. There are indications that among those who cannot afford private health care, that is to say, the large majority of the population, there is an increasing tendency to rely on folk or traditional medicine rather than place themselves at the mercy of the state health care system.
Even more than letters about the unsavory
conditions in our hospitals, I receive letters about the disgraceful state of
our education system. Education, like health care, is ostensibly free in
Inadequate school funds are supplemented by "donations" collected for various purposes: sports day, new buildings, school furniture, teacher-parent association funds, religious festivals. Underpaid teachers supplement their incomes by giving tuition outside school hours. The fees range from 1,000 kyats to 10,000 kyats for each pupil, depending on the grade in which they are studying and the number of subjects in which they are coached. The poor quality of teaching in the school forces all parents who can afford the fees to send their children to such tuition classes.
Examinations provide teachers as well as employees of the education department with opportunities for lucrative business. Examination questions, advance information on grades achieved and the marking up of low grades can all be obtained for price.
There was a time when civil servants in our
country were seen as an elite corps: well educated, well-trained and well-paid,
capable of giving good service to the community. Now they are generally regarded
with fear and revulsion, or with pity. State employees
who have not become part of the syndrome of daily corruption, either from a
matter of principle or from lack of opportunity, are unable to maintain a
standard of living appropriate to their functions. They are the nouveau poor of
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters, the
Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or
the previous day in some areas.
Mainichi
Daily News,
Letter
from
We regret to inform our readers that because
of Suu Kyi's house arrest by
-- Editor
Mainichi
Daily News,
JUNTA
PERSISTS IN TRYING TO BLOCKADE NLD: "Continuum"
Letter
from
This is getting absurd. The road to my house
keeps getting blocked and unblocked and then blocked again with the agitated
rhythm of a demented yo-yo. Let us recapitulate the events of the last month.
The first time the barricades went up was at
This second blockade lasted until
There are slight variations from one blockade to the other. The first time I was free to come and go, and key members of the NLD executive committee were allowed to come to my house. The second time, I was still free to come and go but others were not allowed in except on the 19th, when I made my usual monthly offering to monks in remembrance of my father. U Aung Shwe, our NLD chairman, and our two deputy chairmen, U Kyi Maung and U Tin U, and their wives were able to join in, for the ceremony.
The second blockade was a busy time for us as a number of party meetings had to be conducted at various venues. It was on the day we finished our fourth meeting that the road was opened again at the unexpected time of 4:30 p.m. (I have written about the fact that such events as the arrest of NLD members and the closing and opening of roads tend to take place in the dead of night.)
The third blockade which started at
We were given to understand that U Kyi Maung
had been taken away to be questioned in connection with the latest student
unrest that had erupted in the Rangoon Institute of Technology a couple of days
previously. Two students had come to my house on Tuesday and explained to U Kyi
Maung what had happened. The authorities were quick to jump to the conclusion
that there must be some link between the NLD and the student troubles. This is
quite normal. The authorities tend to lay anything
that goes away in the country at the door of the NLD. We are often amazed at
the extent of the influence which the authorities imagine we have upon the
course of events within
"Business as usual," we chanted
and carried on with our work in the surreal atmosphere of a house arrest that
was not a house arrest. We listened to BBC and VOA broadcasts to find out what
was going on in the big wide world outside the fence of
Saturday was for me the beginning of our annual light festival. Our young people made simple, candle-lit lanterns from bamboo and cellophane in yellow, green, red and blue and that evening and the nest, we hung them along the fence. We also let off fire balloons and set off sparklers. Our pyrotechnic activities were of an extremely modest order but there was a certain charm in keeping a traditional festival alive in the midst of restraint.
On Monday afternoon, U Kyi Maung was released and the road to my house was unblocked. For the time being.
* * * * * * * *
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters. The Japanese translation appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Mainichi
Daily News,
COURAGE
OF ORDINARY PEOPLE GOES UNMATCHED: "Tribute"
Letter
from
There is nothing to compare with the courage of ordinary people whose names are unknown and whose sacrifices pass unnoticed. The courage that dares without recognition, without the protection of media attention, is a courage that humbles and inspires and reaffirms our faith in humanity. Such courage I have seen week after week since my release from house arrest 15 months ago.
Our brave supporters who come to our weekend
rallies are a shining symbol of true commitment and strength. There are those
who have not missed a single rally and who have become part of the family of
our hearts. There is our lovely /Ahmay/ ("Mother"), who has her hair
up in an old-fashioned top knot just as my own mother did during the later
years of her life. Ahmay usually wears an insouciant smile on her face and a
small flower in her hair. She is accompanied by /Ahba/ ("Father"),
gentle of mien and quiet of manners, and by their bright-faced young grandson.
Ahmay is the center of a group of democracy faithfuls who have looked the
cameras of the military intelligence squarely in the lens and again and again
braved the threats of the authorities to demonstrate their unwavering support
for the cause of democracy in
These unshakable stalwarts arrive early in
the morning on Saturdays and Sundays and stake out their places in front of my
house. They sit against the fence on sheets of newspaper or plastic, seeking
respite from the glaring sun under the speckled shade of a tree. During the
height of the monsoons, they construct a plastic awning under which they sit
out the heaviest deluges with unimpaired spirits and determination. When U Kyi
Maung and U Tin U and I come out to speak at
Our rallies are political rallies so the main thrust of our speeches is about politics. We respond to letters from the people about the current economic, social and political situation; we discuss the latest international developments; we talk about the struggles for justice and freedom and human rights that have taken place in different parts of the world; we criticize policies and programs which are detrimental to harmony and progress in the nation; we touch on historical matters.
One could say that each one of the three of us has a "specialty" of our own. U Tin U, as a one-time Chief of Defense Services and Minister of Defense, as one who has spent two years as a monk and as one who has a degree in law, talks most often about matters relating to the armed services, to religion and to the law. He is able to illustrate political truths with stories from the teachings of the Buddha and to analyze actions taken by the authorities against the NLD from the legal point of view. He has an arresting "voice of command" which at times makes the microphones almost redundant. There is a transparent honesty and sincerity about his words that endear him to the audience.
U Kyi Maung concentrates on economics, history and education and has a delightful sense of humor. Across the road from my house is a compound from which the security services survey my house. During our rallies a video camera team stations itself on the fence and records everything. Around this team there is usually a small group of members of the military intelligence and other security personnel: they listen carefully to our speeches and sometimes they laugh so heartily at U Kyi Maung's jokes (some of which are directed against them) that I can see their teeth flashing in their faces. His occasional stories about a "grandson" with a very MI-like personality are great favorites.
I am the one to respond to letters from the
audience and discuss political struggles that have taken place in
The strength and will to maintain two rallies a week for more than a year came from our staunch audience. At those times when the authorities were at their most threatening the crowds become larger as a demonstration of solidarity. Even when the authorities blocked off access to my house to prevent the rallies from taking place, people still came as near as they could to let us and the rest of the world know that they were determined to continue the struggle for the right of free assembly.
********
This article is one of a yearlong series of letters. The Japanese translation appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Mainichi
Daily News,
SUU
KYI'S ATTACKERS GO FREE UNDER
Letter
from
For some time I have been thinking that I should perhaps, for a change, write a
letter about Burmese autumn festivals and flowers, turning my mind from
political to cultural and aesthetic interests. But it would not feel right to
be quoting verses about scented lotuses under pale strands of moonlight when
the political scene is so very unpoetic. So I have to set aside thoughts of the
beauty of the dying year and once again focus attention on the current
situation in the country.
When I wrote some time ago that life was not
dull for dissidents in
Saturday, Nov. 9. The date should have told us something. There are those who take numerology very seriously and the importance that the authorities in Burma put on the number 9 has become something of a joke, albeit a bad one. The previous weekend, our supporters who had, very peacefully, come as close to my blocked off road as possible to try to hear me speak had been subjected to harassment by thugs organized by the Union Solidarity and Development Association (USDA) and by members of the security forces. U Kyi Maung, U Tin U and I therefore decided that on Saturday the ninth we would leave my barricaded road to meet those who had gathered some distance away to demonstrate their support for our cause.
It had been arranged that I would meet U Tin U and U Kyi Maung at the latter's house. I was in a closed car with dark windows to keep out strong sunlight and prying eyes. A blue car nearby, which held my military intelligence (MI) security personnel, led the way and we were followed by a blue open-back van carrying some NLD members and young men from our house and by a black police car. We stayed for about a quarter-of-an-hour at U Kyi Maung's house, then set off for the place where we knew our supporters would be gathered. This time, the blue open-back van was at the head of our motorcade, my car came next, then U Tin U's car which carried both him and U Kyi Maung, then followed the blue MI car and the police car.
U Kyi Maung's house is in a lane off the main road. When we had entered the lane 15 minutes previously, there had been just a few uniformed members of the security forces and a few people in civilian clothes lounging around the place. But as our cars swung out on the road, a crowd of people converged on us from both sides. The blue van slipped through unscathed but the mob started attacking our car with stones, iron bars and other lethal instruments under the instructions of a man who had looked in through the front windshield to check who was inside. In an instant the back windshield had shattered but fortunately the sunscreen film held the pieces together and prevented splinters from scattering over us. There were also two big gashes, probably the result of a flailing iron bar. We continued driving and the whole episode was behind us within a matter of seconds. Later we discovered that U Tin U's car had lost all the glass in both rear windows and the rear windshield. The MI escort car also had all its glass shattered and the back windshield of the police car was in a state comparable to the one in my car.
The most striking feature of the whole episode was that it had taken place within an area which had been cordoned off by members of the security forces, who stood by doing nothing to prevent the attacks. Neither did they make any attempt to arrest the perpetrators of the violence. On the contrary, after our cars had driven away, the mob settled down across the road and remained there for several hours under the - one imagines - benevolent eyes of the security personnel.
Where had this mob appeared from? They were
members of the USDA, who had been brought in from the suburbs and satellite
townships of
The attitude of the authorities with regard to the incident is telling. Although there has been an announcement to the effect that an inquiry would be made into the matter, we are not aware that there have been any moves to take action against the thugs who must be well known to the members of the security forces who had watched them commit their acts of vandalism with perfect equanimity. This is in glaring contrast to the zeal with which supporters of the NLD are arrested and condemned to substantial prison sentences for trivial matters. What price law and order in a country where injustice and anarchy are condoned by those who hold official responsibility for protecting the citizens from acts of violence?
* * * * * * * *
(This article is one of a yearlong series of letters. The Japanese translation appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the some day, or the previous day in some areas.)
Mainichi
Daily News,
SPIRITUAL
REPRIEVE FROM AUTHORITARIAN RULE: "Respite"
Letter
from
Those who have to face persistent political persecution become highly politicized. Our lives take on a rhythm different from those who, on waking up in the morning do not need to wonder who might have been arrested during the night and what further acts of blatant injustice might be committed against our people later during the day. Our antennae become highly sensitive to vibrations barely noticed by those whose everyday existence is removed from political struggle. But still, our lives are not all politics, we have our personal concerns, our intellectual and cultural interests and our spiritual aspirations. The spiritual dimension becomes particularly important in a struggle in which deeply held convictions and strength of mind are the chief weapons against armed repression.
The majority of the people of
This supplication accused the NLD of infiltrating its party members into various levels of the sangha with a view to creating misunderstandings between the government and the sangha. It also accused the NLD of instructing its members to enter the religious order to promote the cause of their party and to commit subversive acts. (Somewhat baffling statement, that one. It is difficult to see how committing acts of subversion could promote the cause of the NLD.) Therefore sangha organizations had been "instructed to contact and cooperate with the relevant state/division, township and ward authorities and take protective measures against dangers to religion." In other words action should be taken to prevent members of the NLD from entering the ranks of the sangha.
It is customary for Burmese Buddhist boys to spend some time as novices in a monastery that they might learn the basic tenets of Buddhism and bring merit to their parents who are responsible for arranging their ordination. In addition, many Burmese men when they have passed the age of 20 enter the religious order again for varying periods of time as fully ordained monks. The supplication of the Minister of Religious Affairs to the state sangha organization seemed to be aimed at curtailing the right of members of the NLD to pursue the traditional religious practice. If the authorities truly believe in the accusations leveled against our party in the supplication, they must indeed be out of touch with reality.
But amidst the morass of political repression, intimidation, officially organized acts of anarchy and interference in our right of worship, we gained a brief respite from worldly concerns in the celebration of /kathina/. This ceremony takes place after the end of the rainy season retreat and lasts for one month, from the first day of the waning moon of /Thadingyut/ (this day fell on Oct. 28 this year) until the full moon day of /Tazaungdine/ (Nov. 25). Participation in the kathina ceremony, of which the major feature is the offering of new robes, relieves monks of the disciplinary rules to some extent and therefore those donors who arrange the ceremony gain merit.
The NLD made an offering of kathina robes at the Panditarama Monastery this year. It was good to gather to perform a common act of merit. It was good to listen to the discourse of Sayadaw U Pandita, to ponder over his words of wisdom and to reflect on the meaning of the ceremony. We Burmese believe that those who perform good deeds together will meet again through the cycle of existence, bonded by shared merit. It was good to think that if I am to continue to tread the cycle of existence I shall be doing so in the company of those who have proved to be the truest of friends and companions. Many of us attending the ceremony came together eight years ago to commit ourselves to the cause of democracy and human rights and we have remained together in the face of intense adversity. There were also many missing faces, the ones who had died, the ones who were in prison. It was sad to think of them. But still, it was good to be able to take time off from the political routine, to enjoy a small, precious spiritual respite.
* * * * * * * *
(This article is one of a yearlong series of letters. The Japanese translation appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some areas.)
Mainichi
Daily News,
MAINTAINING
HUMAN DIGNITY IN THE DARKNESS: "A
Letter
from
Recently, when a friend asked me how things were with me since the authorities had taken to barricading off my house periodically, I replied that things were fine, I was simply carrying on with my normal life. At this she burst out laughing. "Yours in not a normal life, in fact it's the most abnormal life!" And I could not help but laugh too.
I suppose the kind of life I lead must seem
very strange to some but it is a life to which I have become accustomed and it
is really no stranger than a lot of things that go on in
No doubt there are other countries in the world where you would find the equivalent of the huge billboards brazenly entitled "People's Desire," advertising the following sentiments:
* Oppose those relying on external elements, acting as stooges, holding negative views
* Oppose those trying to jeopardize stability of the State and progress of the nation
* Oppose foreign nations interfering in internal affairs of the State
* Crush all internal and external destructive elements as the common enemy.
But I doubt that in other countries you
would find just around the corner from such an unwelcoming, xenophobic
proclamations, a gigantic, double-faced, particularly unattractive version of a
traditional boy doll with puffy white face, staring eyes, a stiff smile and an
attache case (that bit is not traditional) welcoming tourists to Visit Myanmar
Year. Bizarre is the word that springs to mind. "Fascist Disneyland,"
one frequent visitor to
There is so much that is beautiful and so much that is wrong in my country. In the evenings when I look out to the lake from my garden, I can see the tattered beauty of the casuarinas, the tropical lushness of the coconut palms, the untidily exotic banana plants and the lushness of the barbed wire fence along the edge of the shore. And across the still waters festooned with dumps of water hyacinth is the mass of a new hotel built with profit rather than elegance in mind. As the sun begins to go down the sky lights up in orange hues. The Burmese refer to this hour as the time of blazing clouds and also the time when the ugly turn beautiful because the golden light casts a flattering glow on most complexions.
How simple it would be if a mere turn of
light could make everything that was ugly beautiful. How wonderful it would be
if twilight were a time when we could all lay down the cares of the day and
look forward to a tranquil night of well earned rest. But in Fascist Disneyland
the velvety night is too often night in the worst sense of the word, a time
deprived of light in more ways than one. Even in the capital city
Visitors to my country often speak of the
friendliness, the hospitality and the acme of humor of the Burmese. Then they
ask how it is possible that a brutal, humorless authoritarian regime could have
emerged from such a people. A comprehensive answer to that question would
involve a whole thesis but a short answer might be, as one writer has put it,
that
How many can be said to be leading normal lives in a country where there are such deep divisions of heart and mind, where there is neither freedom nor security? When we ask for democracy, all we are asking is that our people should be allowed to live in tranquility under the rule of law, protected by institutions which will guarantee our rights, the rights that will enable us to maintain our human dignity, to heal long festering wounds and to allow love and courage to flourish. Is that such a very unreasonable demand?
********
This article is one a yearlong series of letters. The Japanese translation appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some areas.
Mainichi
Daily News,
VOICE
OF REASON LOOKS BACK ON EVENTFUL YEAR: "Year End"
Letter
from
This is the last of the weekly Letter from
As one deeply involved in the movement for
democracy in
In recent months, I have had to focus increasingly on the challenges the NLD had to face as persecution of its members and supporters reached new heights. The political climate has been very volatile since the end of May when the government took hundreds of NLD members of Parliament, elected in 1990 but never allowed to exercise their function as representatives of the people, into temporary detention. (There were some whose "temporary detention for questioning," as the authorities put it, were converted into long prison sentences.) One does not quite know what is going to happen from one day to the next but one can predict that every time the NLD plans a major party activity the government is bound to overreact.
It is not just the activities of our own party that bring down the heavy attention of the authorities upon us. The activities of others also provide them with an excuse for hampering our work. Toward the end of October, students of the Rangoon Institute of Technology staged demonstrations against the way in which some of their numbers had been handled by the municipal police during an incident in a restaurant. As a result, the road to my house was blocked off for the third time within a month (the first two blockades were related to NLD activities) and U Kyi Maung, one of our deputy chairmen, was taken in for questioning by the military intelligence. A number of young men who were known to be our staunch supporters were also taken into detention for some days and subjected to severe interrogation.
We have now come to expect that the road to
my house would be blocked off late on Friday evening or early on Saturday
morning to prevent our weekend public rallies from taking place. The blockade
is lifted either on Sunday night or Monday morning or Tuesday, as the spirit
moves the authorities. On the evening of Sunday, Dec. 1, the road was unblocked
and it seemed as though the scene was set for a normal week. But as I observed
in one of my letters, "normal" is not a very appropriate world for
describing what goes on in
The students of
The end of the year is a time for assessing past events and preparing for the future. It is a time for us to decide that we should resolve the problems of our country through political rather than military means.
********
"Letter from
The original English-language version is scheduled to be published by Penguin Books next spring. The Japanese translation will be published by the Mainichi Shimbun on Dec. 24.
********
As some Burmanet subscribers already know,
Daw Suu's "Letter from