Sun : Behind Myanmar's darkness, life glimmers
Uncle Yap
Behind Myanmar's darkness, life glimmers
Ziad Haider
IT WAS only fitting that I should arrive in Yangon on the 61st Armed
Forces Day Anniversary. Like for many outsiders, the ruling military
junta ironically known as the State Peace and Development Council
(SPDC) embodied Myanmar for me. Its brutal and benighted policies have
bequeathed Myanmar violence, poverty, and an international boycott.
But in travelling behind Myanmar's iron curtain, I discovered a
dynamic and colourful society steeped in the past, where many anchor
their hope in faith and the foreign.
One need not be in Myanmar to feel the SPDC's long arm; just read the
visa application form. While foreigners are "not to interfere in
internal affairs", Myanmar's internal affairs have a way of tripping
up foreigners. Checking into hotels requires filling out a visitor's
form with daily reports forwarded to the powers that be.
Cybercafes ostensibly forbid using the Internet for "anti-government
activities" or free e-mail services like Hotmail. But this is just the
tip of the iceberg. Seven hundred refugees, forced labour, executions,
and torture are what lie beneath. Along with the big stick is the
propaganda.
The "People's Desire" board across the US embassy declares "crush all
internal and external destructive elements as the common enemy".
The New Light of Myanmar runs blazing headlines such as: "Plan made
for people to avoid in future dangers of facing perilous situation of
country to the extent of its annihilation."
Restrictions and propaganda can however be evaded or ignored by
locals; bread and butter issues cannot.
With the government's spontaneous move from Yangon to the newly built
capital Pyinmana, squandered money for many, it is luring employees
along with a pay raise.
The army's "retreat into the jungle" darkly amuses many locals checked
by the fear that money will be printed to match the pay hikes
inflating basic commodities' prices.
And then there are eight-hour daily power cuts in Yangon, where the
streets descend into darkness at night with many lighting lanterns and
the lucky few cranking on generators. With energy prices having gone
up nine-fold last year, keeping the lights on is an achievement.
The international boycott has not helped. US official estimates
suggest that its ban of Myanmar imports in 2003 cost some 40,000
textile worker jobs and US$350 million (RM1.3 billion) in imports. Per
capita income is among the lowest in Asia at US$225 (RM821).
Beggars wander listlessly in the streets sifting through garbage;
business doldrums plague storeowners. Yangon remains in a time warp.
Men sit on the roadside selling dusty, dated books such as Yale Law
Journals from the sixties and official tracts like Web of Conspiracy:
Complicated Stories of Treacherous Machinations and Intrigues of BCP
UG, DAB, and Some NLD Leaders to Seize State Power. Looming large are
19th century brick colonial buildings. Books are hand-bound in
makeshift stalls. Rackety old taxis ply the roads seemingly ready to
collapse on an unforgiving speed bump.
But the isolation is not thorough. The boycott has plenty of holdouts,
particularly in Asia. Japanese and South Korean brands are ubiquitous.
So are the local approximations of Western ones. Wonderful Cafe's
symbol is MacDonald's golden arches inverted; Star poses as Pepsi.
Myanmar's ample gas reserves also guarantee visitors.
A recent Time magazine article cited an unnamed energy consulting
firm's estimate of US$1 billion (RM3.65 billion) in revenue from
France's Total and Malaysia's Petronas. Indian President Abdul Kalam
paid the first ever Indian presidential visit last month, concluding a
memorandum of understanding on energy cooperation.
Official trade with China in 2004 stood at US$1.1 billion (RM4
billion) with goods such as generators flooding the market; India
holds its own, dominating pharmaceuticals while Bollywood lights up
cinemas.
Yet Myanmar's gaping material void is partly filled by something more
sublime: faith. Yangon's skyline says it all. Other cities have
towering skyscrapers as symbols of prosperity; Yangon has the iconic
2,500-year-old Shwedagon pagoda.
In a country 87% Buddhist, most adult males take up temporary monastic
residence. Golden pagodas rise from the countryside soil. Monks
praying for their country to be protected from danger lifted the
silence of my powerless night in rural Myanmar.
Yangon's other houses of worship include Iranian Shi'ite imambaras
near the Sunni Bengali and South Indian mosques. Baptists have their
Immanuel Baptist Church; Anglicans their Cathedral of the Holy
Trinity. Nearby are the Hindu Kali temple and Moseah Yeshua synagogue.
And then there is the limited stream of foreign tourists. While the
debate continues on the merits of travelling to the Golden Land and
adding to government coffers, tourism provides a window for locals to
the outside world and a chance to showcase their country.
But the going is tough. One tour guide glumly shared how many people
seemed scared to come to Myanmar based on media coverage.
Were they to come in an individual capacity, not on a tour package,
they would realise how friendly people are and how much their presence
benefits them.
Indeed, tourists are guaranteed smiling young men in traditional
longyis sidling up to them to strike up conversation and secure a
customer. Practising English is an imperative, key to a better
livelihood in and beyond tourism.
Faith and tourism powerfully unionise in Myanmar to sidestep the SPDC
morass. Temples are houses of hope that attract moneyed tourists with
their tales. An afternoon spent watching people in prayer flanked by a
monk and a tour guide in Sule Paya, a 2,000-yearold temple that
doubles as a roundabout and a hangout spot, drove this home.
While the guide proposed itineraries and outlined costs, the monk
inquired about life in America and the difference between "college"
and "university". His sister was applying for a Green Card, a chance
for "one in a million". He hoped to open a clinic providing free
medicine for the poor. And so the conversation went: one there to
earn, the other to learn.
In Orwell's Burmese Days set in the British colonial era, the timber
merchant Flory bemoans Burma's modernisation: "Sometimes I think all
this will be gone ? forests, villages, monasteries, pagodas all
vanished. And instead, pink villas fifty yards apart ... villa after
villa with all the gramophones playing the same tune."
Flory's words do not ring true just yet and a "special feeling"
remains in Myanmar as per one German tourist. One savours its
traditional flavour in a flat world where things can also appear,
taste, and sound homogenously flat.
But the pleasure is a guilty one because Myanmar's charm dangerously
blurs with antiquated, underdeveloped and impoverished. Under an iron
fist, its people lack choice from brand to ballot.
Bitter disillusionment surfaces in conversations while faith and the
foreign provide some reprieve.
One can only hope that someday Myanmar's people will overrule and
eclipse the SPDC; that the world will come to enjoy their warm
hospitality and heritage instead of being averted by the junta's
abominable antics.
Ziad Haider is a Fulbright Scholar in Malaysia.
*************From Uncle Yap**************
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