Abstract

From 1962 to 1988 Burma was ruled as a one-party socialist state, with a cohesive narrow military base at its apex with a high degree of insulation from society. Poor economic policy led to economic collapse and social unrest and mass desire for change in the late 1980s. Started by students, protests broke out in 1988 that spread throughout Burmese society and led to the collapse of the socialist order. From amongst the turmoil emerged a new set of counter elites but despite desire on many sides for a new democratic government it did not come. Instead, in September 1988 the military intervened and retook control of the state. The failure to achieve some form of pact can be explained by Burma’s lack of any suitable semi-societal organisations, or skilled political actors that would have facilitated pact making between the different sides. It was the strong sense of “national security” ideology held by the Burmese armed forces instead, which ensured their cohesiveness and return to rule.

Burma in 1988 – a crisis of authoritarian rule v1.1 (68 Kbytes)

Arriving in Mandalay kids scurried into the carriage looking for plastic bottles to stuff into their sacks and later exchange for a few kyats each.

So we returned to Mandalay, then Yangon, and then east to Pathein. Walking around town the University of Pathein caught my eye. I asked several people if foreigners were allowed in and got two yes’s and one no. I figured that was a yes and headed on in. Chatting to a student it wasn’t long before a middle aged man approached me and asked me to kindly bugger off. Foreigners were not allowed it seemed.

Pathein was just a one night stop, our ultimate destination was Chaungtha Beach. On the way we had to cross a river by ferry. For foreigners the price was $5US, locals nothing. By this stage I was fed up with the illegitimate government (80% of voters choose the opposition in the 1990 elections, and the results have so far not been honoured) illegitimately asking me for money, and with the acquiescence of locals on the bus I hid. Emerging no poorer on the other side and in gratitude, I distributed tea to those around me.

U Ki’s grandfather owned a hotel in Chaungtha and we were able to stay for free. I visited the newly built Hotel Max, a week before I had seen Secretary-1 General Khin Nyunt opening it on TV, well done Khin. The beach wasn’t beautiful. There was a rock with a pagoda on it, no surprise for Myanmar, but it was very ordinary, not balancing or anything.

Leaving Myanmar, we caught a bus as far as we could to the airport, then in the style that pervaded most of our travels, we started to walk the rest of the way! We’ld only taken one taxi so far in the whole journey, could we keep it way? Maybe if we hadn’t got lost trying to find the airport. That makes only two taxi trips on our travels. All the rest shared transport, foot, or cyclo.

It was sad saying goodbye to U Ki La Ta at the airport. As I passed through immigration the officer asked me when I would come back to Myanmar. I said when democracy arrived I would return. He laughed. “Maybe it’ll be awhile” I replied. I hope not.

LINK: Is democracy always the solution?

My first night there was a full moon night. In celebration that evening there was a game of tug and war, the object being tugged was a bamboo shrine. When night came and the full moon rose, the bamboo shrine was burnt whilst people danced and made music.

A local English speaking guide, Daw Saw Myint, showed us around. We went for a days walk in the surrounding hills. The hills are littered with lots of villages and people of different ethnic groups – Lisu, Palaung (their are 12 types – White, Gold etc. etc.) As we walked we passed people tending to their tea plantations and farmers moving their cattle. We stopped at a monastery for lunch with great views in every direction. That night I dined in the village home of a Lisu family.

The people in and around Namhsan all wear the same kind of $2US shoe.

In a village one hour from Namhsan we visited a school. Teachers are paid about $6US/month. I made a donation to the school and Daw Saw Myint suggested we buy the school some books and pens in Namhsan. The village had just finished 7 days of funeral ceremonies and tomorrow was a wedding. I was invited to attend, but was leaving today.

When went to leave Namhsan, about 15km down the road we got a flat tyre. We were fortunate to crap out in a village and not on a long stretch of empty road. A local ran me back to Namhsan to buy a new tyre. They didn’t have the proper tools and when they went to install the new tyre they punctured it! Somehow the tyre got patched up enough for us to ride the bike back to within a few kilometers of Namhsan. There it blew and we wheeled the bike back into town, by this time it was dark.

So we spent another day in Namhsan, but this gave me the opportunity to visit the wedding. I arrived during formalities at the bride’s house. All were sitting on the floor, whilst the village spokesman talked and elders prepared to give the wedding their blessing. Once given, the bride’s things were gathered (including her mattress) and we processed to the groom’s house. The new bride would live in the groom’s family home until the couple found their own house. Here the reception was held, a big meal dished out to the seated attendants. Interestingly they segregated themselves into a group of men and a group of women. I witnessed the same segregation at the funeral proceedings the day before.

The next day, with a new tyre, and laden with about 2kg of tea (gifts from the locals), we set out for the second time back to Hsipaw. About 45km/2 hours out of Namhsan we ran out of petrol!! Luckily we had just reached the top of a hill and from there to the nearest town it was all downhill! Phew! I didn’t want to push that motorbike any more.

The scenery on the journey was very pleasant. Mountains, valleys, river crossings. It reminded me a little of the South Island of New Zealand.

At this point in the journey, one of those tactical decision you have to make when travelling arose. With only so many days left in the country, do I go to the town of Lashio? Or rather, do I sacrifice a day somewhere else for a day in Lashio? Ignoring the rule of thumb “quality over quantity” (ie: staying long in one place vs. visiting many places) I decided to go. It was a mistake. A mid-sized town, there was nothing of particular interest, and no other tourists.

Moving right along, Hsipaw was a much better place to spend a few days. I met an Australian expat who knew a lot of people around town. I ended up being taken out on the river with one of her friends who had contacts with the local insurgent group the Shan State Army (SSA). Sound exicting? Well it was rather boring, but interesting in that I was accompaning them as an observer on a “working” trip, rather than a trip for tourists. Part of today’s business was inspecting the logging the group carried out. Logging is “illegal” unless you are the government monopoly, but the SSA has some decree of autonomy. After that we went “fishing”, by throwing dynamite into the water they hoped to catch something. It looked and sounded good, but that was about it.

The Shan Palace in Hsipaw is well worth visiting for the wealth of information the occupiers, Mr Donald and Mrs Fern, have on the area and Myanmar. They speak very good English and told me about the current regime. Mrs Fern was so informative I went back two more times! She keeps a library of books donated by travellers. If you vist, leave a book for the main library or the secret library of books banned in Myanmar, which includes the Lonely Planet.

Mandalay – a lot dirtier than Yangon. We took a boat ride to the ancient city of Mingun. Attractions included ancient ruins, a bell the size of several cars and an old persons home. The old people were very keen to show me their coins from “the good old days” (were they?) They also weren’t afraid to ask for pens, like some of the children you encounter in South East Asia.

From Mandalay we headed North East to Pyin Oo Lwin (POL), a very pretty country town that was once a colonial hill station. All the old colonial houses, as well as some new Western looking ones, are in the south quarter of the town and now inhabited mainly by wealthy Chinese. To the north are smaller, more typical Myanmar homes. The town is dominated by a large military training camp.

We visited the botanical gardens, created during colonial times. Now, as presumably it was then, it is tended to by the locals. It was refreshing to see people’s effort turned towards garden aesthetics – something more than just mere economic survival, a chance for creative expression other than statues of the Buddha.

Just outside of POL, near the village Anikasan are a series of nice waterfalls. You can get there by public transport and by foot. At the start of the hike a local girl joined us. She was carrying a chilli bin on her back. At first I thought she had joined us because she was heading to the waterfall. After sometime I realised she was following us, in the hope that we would buy a drink. I didn’t buy a drink, but she showed us the way and for that I gave her some money. She was never pushy. Afterwards I went and spoke to her and her group. They would go up and down the track, 45mins each way, following someone in hope of a purchase. It didn’t seem an easy way to make money and it wasn’t – they told me on a good day they might earn $1US. They were really nice people.

POL is home to many people of Indian & Nepali descent, and as a result the local movie theater showes Hindi films. So what has Bollywood to offer? Well I don’t think it was meant to be a comedy. Interspersed with music videos, the lead actors would be shown dancing to backdrops of mountains, rivers, fields, and a prison. I don’t know what it had to do with the story – probably nothing, but it sure took up a lot of time.

There are some interesting English speaking locals in POL. One is a monk at Paya Nguang Kan Gyi, he was very happy to answer questions about Buddhism. Another is Mr Bernard who runs a Indian restaurant. He alerted me to the fact that there was a New Zealander working on a farm outside of POL. The next day we planned to leave POL for Hsipaw. The farm was on the way, but a little hard to get to. A couple and their son came to the rescue, with a offer of a ride in their car to Hsipaw. Perhaps they could make a small detour? I asked.

Sure enough, the next day were able to go to Inwhy, a small congregation of land and houses some 20km outside POL on the road to Hsipaw. Here a New Zealander had acquired a plot of land and set about farming it in the “New Zealand Way”. He brought in big John Deere tractors and agricultural machines commonplace in developed nations, but unheard of in Myanmar. The son of the couple told me he had never seen such big tractors before. There were also some guest bungalows for visitors and a home decked out with a kitchen just like back in NZ! What a pleasant surprise! To add to all the pleasure, there was a big roaring waterfall nearby. If I had known earlier, I would have stayed here.

The quality of spoken English is much higher here than Thailand or Cambodia. The men wear predominately longyi’s (a big sheet wrapped around the waist which looks just like a skirt) and lots and lots of people wear a brown face paint. I found out later it was a plant extract used as a sunscreen and beauty cream.

Western cultural influence here is either non-existent or very minimal – no Coke (only a little), no Levis, no Britney Spears, no mini skirts, no boy racers. Its a great experience being away from it all. You don’t get this degree of isolation in Thailand or Cambodia. Imported goods are very little and very expensive.

According to my guide book music with English lyrics is banned. A lot of the music I heard was Western tunes put to Burmese lyrics, including Savage Garden, Chilli Peppers and Shaggy.

One of the gross habits the people have is chewing ‘betel nut’. Its supposed to give you a little high. Chewing produces lots of saliva and they just spit it out on the ground. All over Myanmar roads are these little red patches of expelled betel juice. I tried some, it tastes like bad toothpaste.

The people are absolutely genuine, kind, generous people. If I was in the company of a local they would pay for me. And yet they have so little. I spoke to some young children, maybe 10-12yrs old, selling bananas (they should have been in school mind you) and after a few minutes one of them reached up to the bowl of bananas she was carrying on her head and gave me one saying “present”. As soon as one child had given me something the rest rushed to give me their bananas too. Other travelers I spoke to had very similar experiences.

Myanmar is so diverse, the sights but particularly the people. There are people of Indian, Chinese, Nepali descent, and 7 major native ethnicities. Hence the official country name is actually “The Union Of Myanmar”. There were so many interesting faces. So much variety in appearance.

Throughout Myanmar I saw the names of various English movies advertised. One night in Lashio, I paid a visit to one of these underground theaters – a room with a TV and VCD player surrounded by chairs. For a couple of kyat you can watch whatever they’re showing royalty free – Dead Calm, Foreigner, Die Hard 2 and other dated flicks.

Myanmar people are very enthusiatic about temple building, and donate HUGE sums to these religious sites. When building a new temple, temple builders will petition drivers for money on the roadside. I wondered, why do they spend so much money, often any savings they may have, on these temples, while school and hospital facilities are lacking? For these crimes of religious extravagance on the poverty line, I sentence them to a years re-education at the World Bank School of Human Development, located inside the mall, next to McDonald’s.

Kalaw is the trekking capital of Myanmar. The 3-day trek was a real highlight. We teamed up with an American girl and an excellent English speaking guide. Having a local English speaking guide and being able to ask questions really increased my knowledge of the country in a way that travelling independently doesn’t. I would recommend spending some time with a guide in any non-English speaking country you visit.

The first day we trekked to a viewpoint, where by coincidence I met friend Sam. I knew he was in Myanmar but it was still a surprise to end up at the same place in the middle of nowhere at the same time. We dinner at the viewpoint, prepared over the coal fire by a Nepali Myanmarian. He was a bit of a legend, what with his cows he milked, garden he tendered, and ‘restaurant’ he operated. He told us how he walked 22 days to Nepali, skirting around the border checkpoint because, being unconnected to the elite, he doesn’t have a passport.

That night I slept in a longhouse in the village of ****. A longhouse is a very long house. It is like one long corridor with 7 families in it. There are little rooms off to the side but most of the eating, sleeping, and general living is done in this one long corridor. We arrived at night and there were lots of fires going inside. I don’t know how they survive, I was choking and my eyes were watering because of all the smoke.

The next day it rained just after we set off and we took refuge in a monastery.

After the rain we travelled through several villages before staying the night in a local’s house in Ywapu village. Here I met a girl who sold cauliflower for a living. Each cauliflower sold for 20kyats (approx 2 cents USD) and today she had sold 40 cauliflowers for a total daily take of 80 cents USD. A usual day is about 50 cauliflowers. In one year she will earn approx $350USD. In one lifetime of 40 working years that’s $14000USD or 700 000 cauliflowers. I can can make her lifetime income in a year, after tax. I realised these people have very little materially. But does this matter? The 50x greater earning power I have means I have will have more opportunities and growth. I can experience more, do more. They will not experience or know any of what I can. Do they have opportunities for fulfillment, satisfaction, happiness? As I view it through my Western cultural lens, I think with goals and ambitions appropriate for their situation they can. However, do these intangibles have the same meaning? Do they matter or are other things more important to them? As yet I have more questions than answers.

To get the best views of the surrounding area we caught a taxi to some temples above the town. Temples always seem to occupy prime land, this was no exception. Below one of the temples was the Ruby Cave Monastery – an otherwise unspectacular cave decorated with Buddha images. I also inspected a local ice-cream making factory, and the Flying Tiger cheroot factory.

From Taunggyi it’s not far to Inle Lake. The lake is full of life. Floating gardens, floating markets, cheroot (big fat cigarettes that look like cigars) “factories”, silver smiths, umbrella makers, weavers, blacksmiths. There are many villages around the lake, floating or on stilts, with canals that look like roads:

Each village has its own characteristics, some villages have big houses while others are noticeably poorer. The weaving villages seemed to be quite rich.

There’s a rotating market that is held at different locations around the lake and surrounding area each day. It’s odd to go to the same market with the same people but different location from day to day – the faces are familiar but not the surrounds. There are lots of souvenir sellers and like all good Asian tourist hecklers they have there own sayings that everyone repeats,

“First customer sir, lucky money”

“Lucky money, no sell, no lucky money”

over and over in anticipation of a purchase. I wondered why the souvenir sellers persistently heckled the tourists, it certainly wasn’t a trait of the other vendors who sold predominately to locals.

[PICTURE NOT YET UPLOADED]

At the beautiful floating garden were children in boats who, like most Myanmar people, gave me gifts (of flowers) without expectation of anything in return. On one side of the lake are some hot springs, it was nice to escape the realities of an undemocratic country and relax in the presence of locals having fun.

You can visit some Ka-Yun (Padaung) or Long-neck people in Nguangswhe/Inle. They have a little compound and you pay $3US to see them. Exploitation? A human zoo? I thought so and didn’t go. But in hindsight, there are reasons to be less principled about the whole idea. These people may be selling themselves and their tradition but perhaps thats all they’ve got.

There are two great restaurants in Nyaung Shwe – the Three Sisters and another Indian one near the canal that leads to the lake. In the Indian restaurant I was served by a 11 year old Indian boy who had the best table service manner I have ever experienced! A must!

Whilst the city was delightful my accommodation was depressing. Daddy’s Home looked good for budget accommodation but was full. As with a lot of guest houses there was young boy of about 12yrs working there, he didn’t go to school. One thing you should ask of accommodation outside the main centres is “What time does the power go out?”

There are tea houses everywhere. They have little tiny tables and chairs, like a kids play set, lined out on the street where you can have tea and cake. Yes really.

Particularly in Yangon and Mandalay I was surprised to be approached by monks asking for money, I think this is against one of the 200 and something precepts (rules) they must follow.

I told U Ki I wanted to visit the NLD headquarters. He misunderstood me and took me instead to Aung San Suu Kyi house, or at least to the road where see lives. He wouldn’t accompany me down the road, nor would any local for that matter, such is the fear of the military junta. Anyhow there was a road block and I was turned back. Imagine having a road block and surveillance on the opposition party leader in New Zealand. It was quite incredulous.

Myanmar people will make anything into a pagoda, and when someone first came across a huge boulder balanced precariously on a cliff face, it was no exception. They painted it in gold, stuck an little crown on it and thus was born Kyaikhtiyo/ Golden Rock/ Balancing Boulder Pagoda. The boulder is supposedly kept in balance by a strand of the Buddha’s hair, and in balance it is. There are little wooden sticks planted under the boulder which contain money. If you push the boulder you can actually see the little sticks and money flex as the boulder moves otherwise imperceptibly from side to side.

Making a phone call in Kyaikhtiyo was a step back in time, here’s a picture:

Not only that but horse and cart are still used as transport, and a lot of people draw their water up from wells:

At the Golden Pagoda “base camp”, the little town at the bottom of the hill, I was able to witness a spirit dance. A small crowd had gathered around a dancing spirit medium. She danced first with an unpeeled banana in her mouth, then an orange and finally a cigarette. Apparently she was possessed by the spirit, and somehow the dance was meant to be a good thing. The music was interesting, mainly rhythmic.

The next day I went to his monastery where there was a man who could translate. The monk’s name was U Ki La Ta. He had been to London and knew it could be hard in a foreign country so he wanted to help me travel around Myanmar. I agreed.

First stop was the bookstore for 2 dictionaries and 3 English-Myanmar phrase books. “I can do this” I thought. It was frustrating and hard initially. I would want to go somewhere or do something but could not communicate this to U Ki and so we would end up somewhere I didn’t want to go. It would normally turn out for the better but not without a bit of agony first. We would be together every hour of the day, except at night when he would go to the monastery to sleep, returning in the morning. How do you communicate “I want my own space?” when your phrasebook has only sentences like “Please lower the price” in it? Or “I know you wake up at 4am, but I like to sleep in, please don’t come before 10 o’clock in the morning”. It would become a running joke, here was I with my love of sleep and food together with a never-tiring, never-cold, never-hungry, never-wanting monk. 14yrs of monk hood makes you super human.

He took good care of me, too much care at first. He made sure I never paid too much for anything and could remember market prices like anything. Sometimes I wanted to give more than the market price but he wouldn’t let me! But our increasing knowledge of the others language was an iron that could smooth out all these little crinkles, and a certain rapport developed.

He was used to taking public transport all the time and so I did too, riding in or on top of cramped buses.

For all the government does or doesn’t do, it certainly has the populace scared. People are afraid to talk about politics or criticise anything to do with the government. This became really apparent when I was talking to a book store owner. I was asking about the NLD and he was afraid to talk to me because he thought U Ki was a government spy and had a tape recorder in his bag. Paranoia has a strange way of spreading and I found myself checking his bag later, there was nothing in it. I felt ashamed.

Speaking of baggage, no one travels lighter than a monk. He was me with my 15kg backpack and a carry bag, and he was travelling with a shoulder bag containing books, umbrella, razor, and one spare set of robes.