Burma on My Mind

It's been more than a year since I last visited Rangoon.

My last visit was in September 2007. The night before I left, a blaring announcement rudely awakened me. I could not understand what was being said, but I quickly sensed something was very wrong and remembered the beginnings of martial law in the Philippines. The next morning I learned from front desk that it was an announcement about the imposition of curfew starting that day; everyone should be home by 9pm-5am.

It was an early morning drive to the airport that morning and my Chin friend was pointing out to me army trucks moving into the city.

Monk- led rallies marked the previous days which the world watched on their TV screens/computer monitors. My Chin friend, concerned for my safety, would not even allow me to watch the rallies from afar; he intentionally kept me as far as possible from the rallies.

Nevertheless, I saw the side of Yangon that the military junta keeps on hiding from the rest of the world: Children, women, men walking on the streets in the rain because they could not afford to commute. Bus fare had increased to 200% - from 3 cents to $15 which is half a month's salary of a school teacher. Many walked through rain and flooded streets without umbrellas because they would rather have food than covering for their bodies. At that time the price of 1 sack (30 kilos) of rice had risen by 65%- from $14 to $21. At that time many families only ate once a day and a meal was a small bowl of rice porridge.

All my thoughts and feelings about what I saw in Rangoon I kept inside. My Chin friends were suffering enough; I could not burden them with my tears. I had to wait for my debriefing in Bangkok.

But my tears, all the pent up sorrow over the suffering that I saw, could not wait for the Bangkok debriefing. I cried on the plane. Bitter tears. Tears of helplessness at so much suffering...

Come January I will visit Rangoon again...Will I be brave enough to see suffering upon suffering heaped on hapless Burma?