The Irrawaddy magazine has covered Myanmar, its neighbors and Southeast Asia since 1993.
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16 | The Arts: Not the Same Old Song and Dance
A creative musical challenges priorities in international effortstoendhumantrafficking
20 | Interview: James C. Scott
22 | Divers: Down and Dirty Salvage divers of the Bago River brave risk for meager reward
26 |
Features: Standing Tall
AsynagogueincentralYangontestifiestothe resilience of the city’s Jewish community despite the many setbacks of the past
30 |
COVER Evicted
The predawn demolition of six villages in early February sends 200 villagers on an unlikely odyssey—and puts a spotlightonanationalepidemicoflandconfiscations
39 | Energy: ‘Time for an Energy Boost’
The government should encourage local players in the booming sector, says U Ken Tun of Parami
42 | Enterprise: For Lunch, with Love
An enterprising company harnesses social media to meet the growing demand for convenient midday meals
44 | Economic Policy: ‘Focus on Agriculture’ Economic reforms said to be missing a priority sector
46 |
Signposts: IMF Predicts Growth
48 | An Ounce of Detention
Thailand’s military junta says the temporary suspension of its critics’ freedom is a small price to pay to prevent the country descending into civil war
Leading writer and human rights activist Ma Thida recently became the first president of Myanmar’s branch of PEN International, a global association of writers and editors that promotes free expression. Established last autumn, PEN Myanmar aims to revamp the local literary scene, currently dominated by lecture-style book talks.
The 47-year-old Ma Thida, who is also a trained surgeon and former political prisoner, spoke with The Irrawaddy’s Samantha Michaels about her work with PEN Myanmar, while also sharing her thoughts on the country’s opening media sector and explaining how meditation helped her survive prison.
Fiction writers and journalists have more freedom today than they did under the former junta. What are some of the biggest remaining challenges?
For fiction writers, there’s selfcensorship. For nearly five decades, they only thought about how to bypass censorship. And now, even when they get a chance, they forget to touch on current issues, such as land conflicts, in their writing. It’s an intellectual inertia—our thinking has been changed by censorship. For journalists, there’s a lack of training. Some reporters are struggling, even though they are so enthusiastic.
As president of PEN Myanmar, what are your main activities?
We aim to protect free expression, to establish a new literary culture and to promote aesthetic literature in schools. Literary talks here are like one-way lectures, so we are holding interactive writing workshops with local writers and readers. We want the community to participate, so we say, just grab a book and read out loud any part, or a poem or short story or essay, and based on that, we have a discussion. We are also organizing a peace writing contest, calling for poems and short stories in Myanmar language or any ethnic language, to be published into a book. Another project is the conflict sensitive media monitoring project—we are
making a report based on our research regarding civil war, ethnic conflicts and hate speech.
Earlier this year you were blocked from speaking at a literary event because you once volunteered for the Muslim Free Hospital in Yangon. Has your association with this hospital ever been a problem for you in the past?
I don’t think so. And I was quite happy with my involvement in the Muslim Free Hospital. Throughout history, a lot of political prisoners and their family members couldn’t go to state-owned hospitals, so they relied on the Muslim Free Hospital. I am not a Muslim, but this was where I could best help the needy and my political prisoner friends and their family members.
As editor of The Myanmar Independent news journal, you focus on politics, civil society issues and ethnic issues. Do you think there’s enough coverage of ethnic minority issues in Myanmar?
It’s under covered. A lot of the reporters and editors lack background knowledge, so they may try to cover it but they are not very effective. I encourage regional papers to run by themselves, but they also lack skills. The language barrier is a problem, and the education in their states is not very good.
The government has proposed a controversial Public Service Media Bill which would turn stateowned newspapers into “public service media” that would, in part, cover ethnic issues. Is this a good idea?
Throughout history we have already been reading their public service newspapers, and I have never seen any brilliant coverage of ethnic issues, or any issue for the matter. As an example, when Minister U Ohn Myint made some very bad speeches to the local people, every independent journal wrote about it. At the time, if I ran the government newspaper, to serve
I volunteer at the clinic of the Free Funeral Service Society once a week. And I did have a dream to create a big compound—it wouldn’t be a school, but inside there would be a free clinic, or a free hospital, and also a nonprofit publication to publish research papers. And an orphanage. Families would work for the clinic or the publication and could host the orphans. There would be a family atmosphere.
What are your latest writing projects?
I’m translating a memoir by Suad Amiry, a Palestinian engineer and writer, about her experience as a migrant worker traveling to Israel. The title is “Nothing to Lose but Your Life.” I’m also trying to edit an English version of my own prison memoir, which was published in Myanmar language in 2012.
In your memoir, you describe how you meditated sometimes up to 20 hours per day in prison. Are you still practicing meditation today?
the public I might have interviewed the minister and asked why he made this speech. But instead, they printed all the good things about him, like propaganda about how he works so hard. According to this example, how can we believe this public service
media can serve the public? Why should we spend our tax money on this kind of paper?
What social work are you doing now? I heard you had plans once to open a school in the countryside?
I don’t keep aside a particular time of day to meditate, but I meditate off and on, especially when extreme emotions come to me, to keep myself calm. Sometimes, more than sometimes, I regret not having enough time to meditate these days. … I was sentenced to 20 years in prison, and I used to wonder, who can release me? It truly was not me—for this, I needed to rely on others, the authorities. Since I was young, I wanted to be independent, I wanted to rely on myself. I thought, if I want to escape the vicious cycle of samsara [the Buddhist cycle of birth and rebirth, which involves suffering], who can do that? For this, I didn’t need to ask anything of the jail authorities. I could be released from the vicious cycle if I did meditation.
“We aim to protect free expression, establish a new literary culture and promote literature in schools.”PHOTO: SAI ZAW / THE IRRAWADDY Ma Thida in her office in Yangon
–Government spokesman U Ye Htut on his Facebook page in June, after his wife was criticized for posting a doctored image of Daw Aung San Suu Kyi wearing a hijab on her page. U Ye Htut later apologized to Daw Suu Kyi in person.
–A monk sent by the State Sangha Maha Nayaka to evict followers of Sayadaw U Pyinnya Wuntha from the Maha Thanti Thukha monastery in Yangon in June, speaking to the Democratic Voice of Burma (DVB).
–Martin Rinck, president of Hilton, AsiaPacific,tellingReutersthat some of the group's hotel projects in Myanmar have been delayed.
“We are ashamed of ourselves.’’
‘‘There are ethics to using Facebook. The posts we write…should not spread hate speech or personal attacks.’’
‘‘Sometimes not everything goes like Swiss clockwork.’’
rent in Yangon is $79,000 a month, or $948,000 a year—more than 10 percent of its annual budget in the country.
U Min Ko Naing, a leading political activist, urged the UN to review how its agencies are using their money in Myanmar. International aid agencies “rarely earn respect from the people,” he said, because “their spending doesn’t reach those who really need it.”
A permanent residency (PR) system for foreign nationals will be implemented by October of this year, according to Minister of Immigration and Population U Khin Yi.
Revelations about how much United Nations aid agencies are paying to rent properties in Yangon have prompted many in Myanmar to question their spending priorities in the country.
The outcry began in late May, when The Irrawaddy revealed that the United Nations Children’s Fund (Unicef) pays $87,000 a month in rent for a property believed to be owned by a member of Myanmar’s former military junta.
Since then, the World Health Organization has disclosed that its
While many were critical of the UN agencies, others blamed the situation on the fact that after nearly 50 years of military rule, most of Yangon’s real estate is in the hands of ex-generals or their cronies.
“Most of the [international nongovernmental organizations] and UN agencies have to rent their houses, so such aid money is going into the generals’ pockets,” said U Kyaw Lin Oo, the executive director of the Myanmar People Forum Working Group. “Rich people are getting richer and richer.”
Kyaw Hsu Mon and Simon Lewis“We will allow a PR system in four months, not later than October. The duration of permitted stay will start with a five-year term,” the minister told The Irrawaddy, adding that the system would take a four-tiered approach in weighing candidates.
“First, we will invite intellectuals and technicians, which the country needs. Secondly, [we] will invite investors. Third, former Myanmar citizens. Finally, we will also accept Myanmar citizens and members of their extended families who have studied abroad or gone abroad for various other reasons,” he said.
“Those who apply cannot enlist as civil servants or found a [political] party,” the minister added. —Kyaw Kha
the Nobel Peace Prize laureate, who has stepped up her efforts to remove a clause from the military-drafted charter that bars anyone married to a foreigner or with children of foreign citizenship from becoming head of state.
A report released on the third anniversary of the start of the conflict in Kachin State has accused Myanmar’s armed forces of using torture in its fight against ethnic rebels in the country’s far north.
A parliamentary committee voted on June 6 not to endorse a proposed amendment to Myanmar’s 2008 Constitution that would make opposition leader Daw Aung San Suu Kyi eligible to become the country’s president.
The 31-member committee, consisting mostly of lawmakers from the ruling Union Solidarity and Development Party and unelected military appointees to Parliament, voted 26-5 to reject calls to change the charter.
The move was a setback for
However, her party, the National League for Democracy (NLD), said the vote was not the final word on the subject, as lawmakers are not bound to follow the committee’s recommendations.
Earlier in the month, the NLD rejected a warning from Myanmar’s Union Election Commission over Daw Aung San Suu Kyi’s calls on the military to support the amendment. The body accused her of violating her oath as a parliamentarian by “challenging the army” in comments she made at a rally in Mandalay in late May.
—Zarni Mann
The report, titled “I Thought They Would Kill Me,” by the Bangkok-based group Fortify Rights, describes a variety of torture tactics employed, including beatings, sexual assault, sensory deprivation, and forcing victims to dig what they were told would be their own graves.
“The authorities have tortured Kachin civilians with brutal and inhuman tactics, and those responsible for these crimes have acted with complete impunity for three years,” the group’s executive director, Matthew Smith, said in a press release on June 9.
Fortify Rights said such practices are ongoing in Kachin and northern Shan states, where fighting between the Kachin Independence Army and government troops has flared on and off since the collapse of a 17-year-old ceasefire on June 9, 2011.
—Andrew D. Kaspar and Yen SnaingSeven monks and 32 laymen were evicted from a monastery in Yangon on the night of June 10 in a move by the governmentbacked Buddhist clergy council, the State Sangha Maha Nayaka, to claim ownership of the property.
Five of the monks were later charged with religious offenses and were reportedly disrobed and sent to Insein Prison to await their trial, which could result in a prison sentence.
U Pyinnya Wuntha, 86, told The Irrawaddy by phone from Japan, where he was on a visit at
the time of the eviction, that the State Sangha monks stormed the Maha Thanti Thukha monastery “as if they were raiding a terrorist base and took away [my] monks.”
The State Sangha has claimed ownership of the large monastery since 2002, when U Pyinnya Wuntha fell out of favor with the former military government. He said the regime granted the building and land to him in 1999, complete with legal ownership papers. —Lin Thant, Lawi Weng and Htet Naing Zaw
“The Legend of King Naresuan,” a Thai film about a late 16th-century monarch revered for defending Ayutthaya from Myanmar invaders, is screened at a “reconciliation event” organized by Thailand’s military junta in Bangkok on June 14, 2014. The regime, which seized power on May 22, has sought to restore unity to the deeply divided country through displays of patriotism and a campaign to promote “national happiness.”
Voice of America and Radio Free Asia provided Myanmar-language services that helped to counter the lies of the official media.
Until the nominally civilian government of President U Thein Sein started introducing media reforms in 2012, Myanmar journalists working abroad were barred from entering the country, and those already inside were effectively silenced. Then everything changed. The country’s draconian censorship board was abolished, and in 2013, some private media groups were given permission to publish daily newspapers. Exiled media groups such as The Irrawaddy were also allowed to set up offices inside the country for the first time in decades.
By KYAW ZWA MOEAs significant as these developments were, however, they offered no guarantee that the government was ready to see independent journalism take root again in Myanmar. And, indeed, what we have seen since strongly suggests that the Ministry of Information (MOI)—which once wielded the censorship board like a club to beat the media into submission— remains as committed as ever to controlling the non-state media sector.
Recently, I sat down with a small group of people, including some journalist friends, to talk about Myanmar’s media landscape. One of the questions that came up was whether independent journalism had any future in this country.
Perhaps because we all wanted to have something helpful and constructive to say, we generally agreed that yes, independent journalism does stand a chance of surviving in Myanmar.
As a matter of fact, however, the reality on the ground doesn’t really support this sanguine view.
Looking back, we can see that in the half century after the late dictator Gen. Ne Win seized power in 1962 and
nationalized the country’s newspapers, independent journalism was all but nonexistent here. Under military rule, state-run media disseminated a relentless stream of pro-junta propaganda, and private media— which returned after 1988—was heavily censored.
During that dark era, journalists who dared to report on the ruling regime’s many misdeeds were routinely locked up. Press freedom was dead, and journalism could no longer be regarded as a real profession.
But even when the situation inside the country was at its most dire, the desire for reliable news and information never died. To meet this need, exiled media groups mushroomed outside the country, and broadcasters like the BBC,
This is why it comes as a surprise to many journalists struggling to survive in the “space” created by Myanmar’s government that some Western-based media-freedom organizations have so heartily endorsed the country’s still narrow reforms, and have even begun bolstering the capacity of the state’s propaganda apparatus.
Spearheaded by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (Unesco), these efforts— being carried out in the name of turning the New Light of Myanmar, MRTV and other former junta mouthpieces into “public service media”—will serve only to make Myanmar’s government more effective at manipulating the public. Meanwhile, other voices will continue to be drowned out.
In theory, Myanmar could certainly do with a public service media that is genuinely committed to keeping the country’s people informed. The problem is that almost all of the
If the international community wants to help Myanmar achieve democracy, it will support independent journalists, not the “new and improved” state media
individuals now being trained by the BBC, the Associated Press, Kyodo News and other respected international news agencies have spent most of their careers fighting on the frontlines of the former junta’s endless psychological warfare campaigns. Simply enabling them to do a better job of pushing the government’s official line is the last thing the country needs.
If Unesco and the other partners in this enterprise of turning former military officials into “professional” journalists really want to help, they will have to do more than teach them how to perform a few superficial tricks that give the impression of greater openness.
Some observers have noticed that the English-language newspaper The New Light of Myanmar is no longer as crudely one-sided as it once was, and sometimes even reports on issues such as human rights abuses and land grabs (without going too deeply into why both are still endemic in this country). At the same time, however, the Myanmarlanguage state media continues to shy away from any subject that could easily lead to criticism of the government or the military. Evidently, what’s good for the growing number of foreigners entering the country is not good for Myanmar’s masses.
In 2012, when I met high-ranking officials from the MOI for the first time, I suggested to them that if they really wanted to create a genuine public service media, they shouldn’t waste their time trying to transform the state-run media. It would be better, I said, to let media professionals create a new, independent public service media with the help of international media organizations.
Needless to say, my arguments didn’t have much of an impact on their thinking. I can’t say I’m surprised. Why, after all, would they give up their stranglehold on the media sector—making room only for a few crony-owned media groups such as Skynet (owned by the Shwe Than Lwin Company) and MRTV-4 (owned by the Forever Group)—when all they had to do was drop some of their more
egregious habits and go through the motions of reforming themselves?
If you try to find independent media in Myanmar today, you’ll soon see that there are only a handful of organizations that fit the description. And if you’re concerned about the country’s prospects of completing its transition to democracy, this should be a major worry. Without an independent media to monitor those in power, next year’s election could prove to be as farcical as the one in 2010.
Actually, it would be quite easy to reestablish independent media in Myanmar. The country has a small army of fledgling journalists eager to do their part to restore their profession to its rightful place as one of the pillars of a democratic society. All they need is freedom and the support of experienced domestic and international journalists. The government wouldn’t have to do a thing.
It certainly isn’t the government’s place to police the media and enforce its own “ethical standards” on a profession it has never really understood. If mistakes are made, they can be addressed through mechanisms established by experienced practitioners of the trade,
not by bureaucrats.
Myanmar has no shortage of reporters—both trained professionals and “citizen journalists”—capable of uncovering facts that some would like to keep hidden. During the 2007 Saffron Revolution, and in the aftermath of Cyclone Nargis the following year, the ruling regime was unable to conceal its brutality and callous indifference to the loss of human life because of
the courage of countless citizens who risked their lives and freedom to document the truth. With the right guidance—from qualified colleagues, not meddling officials—they could be an even more formidable force for good in the country’s future.
Independent-minded journalists are an enormous asset to any democratic society, and if the international community truly believes that democracy is what Myanmar deserves and needs, it should invest in those who would be its best guardians. Supporting apparatchiks with press cards is a waste of time we can no longer afford.
With Myanmar’s big election just one year away, speculation is growing about who will take the helm of the country’s next government.
So far, attention has been focused on Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, the immensely popular leader of the National League for Democracy (NLD). However, her candidacy is now more in doubt than ever, after a parliamentary committee on constitutional reform decided in early June to reject her calls to amend a clause that bars her from the presidency on the grounds that her two sons are foreign nationals.
There has also been some talk of the incumbent, President U Thein Sein, seeking a second term. As a selfstyled reformer, he has won plaudits both at home and abroad, despite the fact that he came to power by means of a rigged election in 2010 that heavily favored his ruling Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), founded by former military strongman Snr.Gen. Than Shwe. Analysts have noted, however, that the sitting president’s popularity has been short-lived, and that his chances of winning in a free and fair election appear slim.
With the two most obvious con -
tenders now seemingly (but not definitively) out of the race, political observers are hard at work trying to identify other potential candidates. At the top of their list is Union Parliament Speaker U Shwe Mann, who has made no secret of his desire to become president.
are disagreements between us, but by negotiating, we find common ground.”
Is this a political alliance in the making? Possibly, but it remains to be seen how the two “rivals” could share power post-2015.
Meanwhile, U Thein Sein appears to be moving closer to hardline elements in the USDP, such as former industry minister U Aung Thaung and former agriculture minister U Htay Oo, both of whom are regarded as among the most corrupt members of the former junta.
Along with some other “progressive” members of the former junta, including U Aung Ko (a former military officer and deputy minister under the previous regime), U Shwe Mann has publicly supported constitutional reform. He is also known to be close to Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, who speaks of him with respect.
“We are rivals, not enemies,” she said recently of her relationship with U Shwe Mann. “In our discussions, there
Another potential ally is U Tin Aye, the chairman of Myanmar’s Union Election Commission, who ruffled NLD feathers by warning Daw Aung San Suu Kyi about “challenging” the military in speeches she made in late May. He has also said that the NLD leader will only be allowed to campaign in her own constituency, in a move seen as an effort to prevent her using her personal popularity to deliver her party another electoral landslide.
It seems, then, that while much remains undecided about how the 2015 election will play out, two very distinct strategies are at work: one that involves a direct appeal to the electorate, and another that relies on forces at work behind the scenes.
Image from the poster for the play “Land of Smiles” about human trafficking
By SEAMUS MARTOV / CHIANG MAI, Thailand
Amusical centered on the life of a fictional refugee from Myanmar appears at first glance an unlikely venue for a detailed critique of US antitrafficking policies and their impact on the women they were ostensibly designed to protect. But “Land of Smiles,” which had its Asian premiere in the northern Thai city of Chiang Mai with a cast that included several offBroadway veterans, is not your typical musical with a message.
The play’s dual protagonists are both newcomers to Thailand. Lipoh is a young Kachin woman who has fled fighting in Myanmar’s northernmost state, and Emma is an idealistic American law-school graduate who has come to Asia to join the global fight against human trafficking.
Early on in the play, Lipoh’s stint working at a Chiang Rai brothel ends when she is detained by police working in cooperation with the Western-funded NGO where Emma has just started her
internship. Emma’s superior at the NGO, a fellow American, assigns Emma the task of coaxing Lipoh, who is being incarcerated in a grim immigration detention center supposedly for her own protection, to testify against the brothel owner and her friends who helped her get to Thailand. But Lipoh refuses to play along. “Because I am not a victim,” she tells Emma.
As the play unfolds, Emma begins to question her NGO colleagues’ efforts to compel Lipoh to accept the role of victim and use her case to get more funding for their organization. “Back in Indiana / Life is black and white / Nothing is too dark / Nothing’s too bright / It’s easy to distinguish wrong from right,” Emma sings after coming to the realization that things aren’t so clear-cut in Thailand.
“Land of Smiles” was written and produced by Erin Kamler, a Los Angeles-based playwright, composer and PhD candidate. The play—which will be staged in Los Angeles this month
(July) and then at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August after having its debut in Chiang Mai last December—is the product of more than 50 interviews and hours of field work conducted by Ms. Kamler in Thailand and Cambodia.
“The primary agenda for the play is to show the more complex reality of the anti-trafficking movement and how it affects migrant women on the ground in Thailand, particularly migrant women from [Myanmar],” she told The Irrawaddy.
“The big problem with the movement, the elephant in the room, is that [it doesn’t really address] structural conditions that push both trafficking— that is, labor exploitation, actual human trafficking—and migration that is consensual. And there’s no real distinction between those two things, either,” explained Ms. Kamler, whose play is an extension of her nearly completed PhD work on these issues at the University of Southern California.
The trafficking and smuggling of
people across international borders has in recent years become a high-profile issue across the globe. In the post9/11 era, many increasingly securityconscious Western governments have taken a tough stand on such practices, with the effect that many portrayed as victims of traffickers are also suffering at the hands of law enforcement agencies.
“There’s very little nuance in these policies that are supposedly meant to address trafficking,” said Ms. Kamler, who is part of a growing chorus of researchers and migration experts calling for a radical shift in policy away from the militarized war on trafficking currently being carried out by most Western governments and their respective international development funding agencies.
Ms. Kamler also takes issue with a longstanding US policy, only recently overturned, to deny funding to anti-trafficking and migrant support organizations unless they
adhere to a zero-tolerance policy for prostitution—a policy that encouraged NGOs in Thailand and Cambodia to take part in raids to “save” sex workers, regardless of whether the women were engaged in such work of their own free will.
“The critique is that most of the policies and most of the funding that goes into the movement to stop trafficking happens at the end, after people have migrated and, in the case of sex workers, after they’ve already been working as sex workers. Then these well-funded NGOs will go in with the police and round all these women up,” explained Ms. Kamler.
In many ways, “Land of Smiles” offers a musical counterpoint to the kind of campaign conducted by the likes of MTV EXIT (End Exploitation and Trafficking), a “multimedia initiative” that seeks to raise awareness of human trafficking through activities such as organizing a December 2012 concert in Yangon featuring musician Jason
Mraz. That concert—during which Mr. Mraz wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the words “Slavery Sucks” as he performed before 50,000 screaming fans on a stage in front of Shwedagon Pagoda—was part of a slick campaign that frequently reduces the trafficking issue to a black-and-white struggle between good and evil.
There’s little space in the MTV EXIT narrative for the kind of nuance conveyed in Ms. Kamler’s play, in which the Lipoh character—like tens of thousands of other refugees and migrants from Myanmar—has deliberately chosen to be smuggled into Thailand in order to support her family.
Estimates from researchers indicate that the regular flow of large numbers of people out of Myanmar has not been reduced by the current government’s reform process. This may be due to the fact that the last few years have been marked by a significant increase in land-grabbing and the displacement of huge numbers of small-scale farmers across much of Myanmar’s countryside—factors that continue to push thousands of migrants out of the country every month in search of employment.
There are also other push factors at play. The unresolved conflict between government troops and Kachin rebels in the north and the ongoing crisis in Rakhine State have, according to UN
estimates, led to a combined figure of more than 250,000 people being displaced since President U Thein Sein’s nominally civilian government took office three years ago.
These factors have left no shortage of people willing to pay brokers to smuggle them to third countries in search of a better life, ensuring that Thailand’s immigration detention centers will remain full of undocumented people for many years to come.
“Land of Smiles” is a beautifully composed and highly creative rebuttal to the widely held assumptions that underpin anti-trafficking policies that have proven to be at best counterproductive and at worst extremely harmful to the very people they are meant to help. By looking at what’s wrong with the status quo in a way that is both challenging and highly entertaining, it could do much to highlight the many misssteps that have been taken in the name of ending human trafficking.
“There’s very little nuance in these policies that are supposedly meant to address trafficking.”
It has no place on official maps, but parts of Myanmar fall within a geographical zone described by some Southeast Asia scholars as Zomia. Stretching across a massive area of Asia, Zomia is considered to be the biggest area in the world that still remains beyond the grasp of traditional nation-states or governments. In Myanmar, this includes the peripheral territoriesinhabitedbyethnicgroupsthathavefoughtarmedconflictsagainst the central government for decades.
American political scientist James C. Scott sparked debate in his anthropological study “The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia” (2009), which contends that the highland people of Zomia were not left behind, but rather consciously chose to avoid the modern state. The award-winning author and Yale University professor spoke with The Irrawaddy’s Samantha Michaels after a recent visit to Myanmar, also known as Burma.
You argue that hill tribes in Southeast Asia have chosen to live beyond the reach of state-making projects such as taxation, forced labor and war. Can you briefly explain this theory in the context of Myanmar’s history?
Many ethnic groups that came to northern Burma over the last 2,000 years fled up the Yangtze River watershed to move away from the expansive Chinese state, and some from Thai and Burmese states, which were all slave-taking states. The hills were not strongly populated 500 or 600 years ago, but they became more populated as the big states expanded and people moved away from slave raids.
How would you describe the statemaking strategies of President U Thein Sein’s administration, compared with those of the former junta? Has the reform process strengthened the Myanmar state?
The Burmese state is still incredibly weak. If you think of infrastructural power—the ability to collect taxes, to know the land-holding situation,
to have complete lists of population and property holdings, to have a police presence everywhere—you’re not talking about the Burmese government. You could argue—I’m not sure I want to, but at least it’s worth considering—that the government is less coherent now than it might have been 10 years ago. It has “all thumbs and no fingers,” meaning it has crude military power but not the fine-tuning power of a successful administrative state.
My guess is that the president and his closest cooperativeshave bought room to make small compromises with the rest of the military, given the military’s interest in controlling the economy, by allowing regional military commanders to more or less have a free hand in seizing land and enterprises. They’ve turned a blind eye toward corruption and land seizures in the regions. It’s the condition, I suppose, of the little democratic opening we have now in Burma, but it’s a kind of feudalism, it makes the government more fragmented. I think if the government were to seriously address the land seizures, it would find itself with a military revolt.
Myanmar’s census this year— the country’s first census in over 30 years—was highly controversial, especially among ethnic minorities who accused the government of incorrectly classifying them. What was your take on the situation?
The census in 1931 also identified ethnic groups, but on the basis of the “language spoken to the cradle,” that is to say, the language the mother spoke to her children in the cradle. The director of that census, a good little bureaucrat, did his job, but at the end he said it was crazy because people in Burma change their language as often as we change our clothes. Of course that’s not literally true, but the fact is that people in the hills speak two, three, four, sometimes five languages, and each language is useful in a particular situation. They have a portfolio of potential identities they can display. The point is that a census gives false solidity to identities that are extremely flexible. Decisions about classifying ethnic groups are political.
Would it make sense for Myanmar to conduct a census without classifying ethnic groups?
It would be politically impossible in the sense that any kind of federalism that would be created in Burma would take account of some conception of cultural groups. [It would] require administrative units coinciding roughly with major cultural divisions. I’m not against the census, I might add, I just want to point out how political it is. … It’s a [state] capacity. It’s not morally bad or good, it depends how it’s used.
On your recent visit to Myanmar, you gave talks at the Yangon
School of Political Science and Pansodan Gallery. What else did you do?
I went to Pathein and spent three weeks working with a tutor every day, all day, on Burmese language skills. Then I went to the literary festival in Mandalay—Daw Aung San Suu Kyi and a whole series of poets were there. I also spent a couple days in the deep delta. I’m deeply interested in the Ayeyarwady River—I’m sort of a canoeist here.
Are you working on any projects in Myanmar now?
There was something called the Bulletin of Burma Research that was started in 1905 by colonial civil servants. Anthropologists, linguists and historians met every month and read papers to each other, a number of Burmese became involved later, and it became the central place for Burmese studies locally. It was closed by the military government in 1979. Now we would like to restart an academic journal that would be controversial and open to amateurs as well as professional scholars. We [Mr. Scott and U Tun Myint, a Myanmar political scientist in the United States] have the money to begin this.
How are your Myanmar language studies coming along?
I’ve been studying for about six or seven years but only a month and a half every year. I’ve learned a lot of different languages in my life, and Burmese is the hardest. I think you shouldn’t study a country unless you’re willing to learn the language, because you learn a lot by understanding how the language works, why certain turns of phrases are important. It’s a mark of cultural respect. I have trouble following closely when a lot of Burmese people speak at the same time—I get the drift but it’s difficult—and that’s the kind of thing that you only develop by working within the country and having the language in your ear all the time.
“We would like to restart an academic journal that would be controversial and open to amateurs as well as professional scholars.”
James C. Scott: “Identities are extremely flexible.”
Salvage divers of the Bago River brave risk for meager reward
Text and Photos by JPAING / YANGON
When the tide of the Bago River goes out, they jump on a wooden boat and head to the middle of the river to start their job. With the low tide, part of the cockpit of a sunken barge has become visible on the water.
“We have to make the most of the low tide, if not it will be very difficult for us because the whole boat will be under water,” one of the men told me.
There are six people on board. They are all professional divers who have long made their living salvaging sunken boats and ships in the Bago and Yangon rivers, which run around Myanmar’s largest city.
They leave the boat’s engine idling near the sunken vessel, a sand barge that sunk one month ago. They are here today to retrieve the wreckage. Their gear is not sophisticated: a few flimsy masks, oxygen tanks, an air compressor, pumps and a few large empty drums.
“First, the divers have to attach the empty drums to the side of the wreckage. They play a vital role in the salvaging process,” the crew leader explains. After attaching the drums, the divers go down into the wreckage to pump out silt that has deposited inside the sunken barge.
“By the time the tide is high, we pump air into the drums. When the drums are filled with air, the wreckage floats on the water,” the leader said.
Most of the crew earns the equivalent of about US$10 a day. They say the job is dangerous since they are at risk of suffocating if the oxygen supply onboard goes wrong, or if they get stuck in the wreckage.
“Though our job is risky, we have no choice, as we can’t do any other work,” one diver said.
By AYE CHAN MYATE / YANGON
On 26th Street in downtown Yangon is a building almost hidden from sight and barely noticed by those who pass it every day. Built in the 19th century, it is part of the city’s history, but one with an interesting history all its own.
The Musmeah Yeshua Synagogue was founded by a prosperous community of Jewish traders who began arriving in this country from India in the mid-19th century. At one time, around 3,000 Jews lived here, concentrated in an area around Mahabandoola Street, and also along Yaw Min Gyi and Bo Yar Nyunt streets.
Very little is left of this community today, however—just around 20 people for whom the synagogue is a living reminder of a once vibrant past.
If you decide to take a closer look, you might not find it particularly
welcoming at first glance: The sign visible from the closed gate informs you that “outsiders are not allowed.” But visitors can enter if they seek permission a day in advance, and this unique place of worship has recently become an unlikely tourist attraction for those wishing to explore Yangon’s impressive cultural and religious diversity.
Once inside, one immediately feels transported to another time and place. The most prominent feature of the interior is the bema, a raised platform with a railing where the Torah (the Jewish holy book) is read during services.
Surrounding this platform are cane-backed chairs of an indeterminate age; they seem quite old, but they’re in very good condition. A grandfather clock that stands near the entrance also has the look of an antique, but no
longer tells the time. It’s not easy to tell where or when it was made, but the word “Rangoon,” in English, appears on its surface.
As I stood admiring this towering timepiece, Sammy Samuels, the son of the synagogue’s patriarch, Moses Samuels, offered to shed some light on its provenance. “That clock was donated to the synagogue when it was first established,” he said. “Like almost everything else here, it is the same age as the synagogue itself.”
As a descendant of the founders of the synagogue, the younger Mr. Samuels is busy these days sharing local Jewish history with a growing number of visitors. The US-educated 32-year-old also operates a travel
agency, Myanmar Shalom Travels, which offers, among other packages, a nine-day Jewish Heritage Tour.
The synagogue itself dates back to the mid-1890s, when it was built to replace a smaller wooden structure. The interior is quiet, spacious and well-lit, with a high ceiling and a second floor that is open in the center, offering a view of the area below where the congregation gathers for prayer.
Although everything seems in excellent condition today, at one time the synagogue was in a state of disrepair; in May 2008, when Cyclone Nargis struck, it even lost its roof. In
some ways, its fate mirrors that of Yangon’s Jewish community, which has suffered a number of serious setbacks over the past century, but remains strong, if much diminished in size.
In their heyday during the years of British colonial rule, Yangon’s Jews played a notable role in the city’s commerce, owning many large shops and companies. The community also distinguished itself intellectually, producing many doctors and scholars.
But all that changed in 1942, when Japan’s Imperial Army invaded Myanmar. Local Jews were suspected of spying for the British and some were detained and interrogated, so most of the community decided to
“That clock was donated to the synagogue when it was first established.”
–Sammy Samuels
flee. However, even during these trying times, around 1,000 remained.
When the war ended, things began to look much better for the country’s Jews.
Soon after Myanmar regained its independence in 1948, it established friendly ties with Israel, and in 1955, then Prime Minister U Nu became the first foreign leader to visit the newly created Jewish state.
In December 1961, then Israeli Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion paid homage to this relationship as he departed for a state visit to the country then still known officially as Burma.
“In all of Asia, there is no more friendly nation to Israel than Burma,” he declared. “Israel and Burma are two old countries with old histories which renewed their independence
in 1948. Both are democratic and both follow the same principle in foreign relations—promoting friendly relations and mutual aid with all peace-loving countries irrespective of their internal regimes and without injuring the interests of any other country.”
But Myanmar would not be democratic for much longer: On March 2, 1962, the military seized power in a bloody coup and imposed a rigid socialist system that was devastating for what was left of the local Jewish community.
Many lost their businesses to nationalization, and the deeply xenophobic brand of nationalism fostered by the new regime forced most to flee to the US or the UK via neighboring India.
Now, more than 50 years later, Yangon’s few remaining Jews continue to play a role in fostering a spirit of unity that transcends religious and ethnic differences. Every year during Hanukkah—the eight-day Festival of Lights in December—the synagogue invites members of other faiths, as well as diplomats and government officials, to light the menorah, the nine-branched candelabrum that is the central symbol of this important Jewish holiday.
“It is a ceremony to pray for peace, and for freedom to believe. Leaders from other religions come to light the candles, including Muslim leaders,” explained Mr. Samuels. “This [religious harmony] is what we need in Myanmar. Even though we are a religious minority here, we don’t want to stay out of it when the country is facing religious conflict.”
Despite the troubles they’ve experienced over the years, Myanmar’s Jews know they are nothing compared to those of Israel, a country that has rarely known peace in its 66 years of existence.
“When we Jews meet each other, we like to say that the longer the egg is boiled, the harder it becomes,” said Mr. Samuels, explaining how the Jewish people have managed to endure the many challenges they have faced.
The key to their survival against such odds, he added, is unity.
“As Jews, we believe that we are never alone. For example, even though there are only a few of us living in Myanmar today, we can still cast our vote at the World Jewish Congress every year,” he said.
As he spoke, I noticed a sign on the wall that echoed his sentiments. It read: “A tree in the field stands alone. A man alone in the world would feel lonely. But a Jew need never feel alone during the holidays.”
After more than a century in this country, Yangon’s Jewish community has proven that it has staying power. And as long as it stands together, there is every reason to believe that it will continue to be an important part of Myanmar’s rich cultural tapestry for years to come.
The predawn demolition of six villages in early February sends 200 villagers on an unlikely odyssey—and puts a spotlight on a national epidemic of land confi scations
By NYEIN NYEIN / KYAUK KHET, Myawaddy Township and THAMEEGALAY, Hlegu Township
Surrounded by green fertile highlands and with a clear flowing river running through it, Kyauk Khet is a quiet village of two parts.
In the older section one recent morning, I found a placid scene. Children were playing on the pathway as mothers cooked breakfast. There were a few small grocery shops and a small clinic for basic medicines. Carpenters were gathering tools to start a day’s work on new school buildings.
It feels quiet and remote here on the eastern border, but if you walk across theMoei River—which you can do, if you don’t mind getting wet to your thighs— you will find yourself in Mae Ku, Thailand, a small town with electricity, better shopping options, and a decent road that can take you to the bustling border trading hub of Mae Sot in around two hours.
But on the day I visited, it was the new section of Kyauk Khet that I wanted to see.
Perched on a hill, it consisted of a scattering of freshly built houses made of bamboo, wood and woven leaves. In one of these homes, I found Ma Yamin Aye, a slight woman of 34, in the company of a few monks and elders, and keen to talk.
Recently widowed, Ma Yamin Aye was commemorating the death
of her husband with a small donation ceremony.
She told me that when the former soldier in Myanmar’s armed forces died nine months earlier, she thought her life couldn’t get any worse.
But she soon learned that there were other misfortunes in store for her—events that would push the mother of four young children from the center of the country to this strange and remote place in the
“I held their knees and begged them. But they had no sympathy. They just told me to get out.”
–Ma Yamin Aye
borderlands, far from anything she has known.
Fate came knocking at4 am onFeb. 4, when voices over loudspeakers boomed out in the darkness, ordering the sleepy villagers of Thameegalay to evacuate their homes.
Thameegalay was one of a cluster of targeted villages built near a small
dam in Hlegu Township, Yangon Region, about 60 miles from the commercial capital and less than 30 miles from Bago.
It was a simple village, a few decades old, with houses scattered on flatlands on the edge of the Bago Yoma mountain range. But times were getting better. There was daily work harvesting seasonal crops such as watermelon and planting and weeding in nearby rubber plantations. An improved local road between Hlegu and Taikkyi Township to the north had brought more business and trade. Thameegalay was starting to become a fairly decent place to live.
Shaken out of her sleep by the loudspeakers, Ma Yamin Aye had barely enough time to grab her children, her ID documents, and her husband’s army badges before the demolition began.
She tried to use what she thought of as her connections to save the
house she had just finished building 20 days before with 1,700,000 kyat from her husband’s pension, of which 380,000 kyat she had paid for the land alone.
After all, hers was an army family. “We were living in soldiers’ quarters when my husband was alive,” she said, adding that she used to serve the wives of some of the commanders.
“I got down and held the knees of the men coming to destroy the house. I begged them. I asked them why they were doing this and gave them my husband’s name and the phone number of an army chief to call. They just said, ‘Don’t question us. You don’t have the right to ask us to do anything,’” she recalled.
“They had no sympathy. They just told me to get out.”
Outside, the sound of machines tearing down homes and buildings was becoming overwhelming. In all, about 2,000 men came in cars, trucks, buses and bulldozers to raze Thameegalay and five neighboring villages that day. They included hundreds of uniformed soldiers, police and hired hands wielding sticks.
Clockwise from top left: Bulldozers raze homes at Thameegalay on Feb. 4, 2014, while villagers were made to sit on the roadside.
“We were told to sit down and not ask any questions or we’d go to prison for three months. If we took up a weapon, we’d get three years,” said another evicted villager now living in Kyauk Khet.
It took just a few hours for the group to destroy every house, big or small, in the six communities. Villagers had to grab what they could and scatter as their homes, belongings and even animals were destroyed. Suddenly 500 people were homeless.
MaYamin Aye was in shock. Sickened, she realized she had been tricked. When she bought the land for the house, the dealer told her she should build it as soon as possible. At the time she hadn’t asked why, but now she knew. He must have known what was coming.
Later, it came to light that a series of eviction letters had been sent to the local authorities. A sign had gone up in at least one of the six villages, stating it was on military-owned land. But villagers insisted they had never been told of any eviction plan.
In the confusion, people did not know what to do or where to go. They scattered, some running to hide in nearby bamboo forests, others walking to nearby villages, and some heading further away.
MaNilar Win, 30, was in a group that tried to hide in a bamboo forest. “But in the afternoon, those who destroyed our village came our way and we had to move again.”
Around 90 households decided to seek sanctuary in nearby Aung Theikhti Monastery, about half an hour’s walk from Thameegalay.
Sayadaw U Agga Dhamma, 34, has been a strong supporter of education for the area’s children since he moved to the monastery eight years ago. In 2006, he and other monks began teaching local children with the permission of Bago’s leading monastic school and support from civil society groups.
The monastery is modest, made of wood and rough-surfaced concrete and nestled among cashew, padauk
and rubber trees in a pleasant spot beside the small Alaini dam. The school classrooms are made of concrete, with open doors and windows.
On the day the villages were destroyed, the abbot ended up taking some children back to the monastery. When families also started coming to seek sanctuary, he found himself in a difficult position with 200 people to help.
“I had just 7,000 kyat and a standard bag of rice, not nearly enough. But I could let them make a temporary shelter here,” he said.
As the news spread, donations came in from Yangon and other places. Nearby villages helped to provide the displaced with food.
But right away, the authorities started pressuring Sayadaw U Agga Dhamma to stop sheltering the villagers. On Feb. 5, a letter came from the Bago Region Irrigation Department telling him he couldn’t allow the villagers to stay. After some negotiation, it was agreed that the families would move after their children’s exams were over in early March.
Despite this temporary reprieve, the villagers were still under pressure to find a new place to live. By this time, however, their plight was get-
ting some attention, including from the Democratic Karen Benevolent Army (DKBA), a border-based ethnic Kayin armed group that said the villagers could resettle in their territory.
DKBA leader Col. San Aung insisted that his offer was a “humanitarian act” to help the homeless. “Without a home, a person cannot live. I could not ignore their suffering, which is why I’m trying to help as much as I can,” he said.
As desperate as they were, however, most of the villagers were reluctant to consider moving to such a remote and potentially unstable area. Then, nearly two weeks after their eviction, another offer of help suddenly came from a very different quarter: Hlegu Township MP U Hla Than, from the ruling Union Solidarity and Development Party, told them there was free land available for them in Wayagone, a village some 12 miles (19 km) away. Many decided to accept.
But when they arrived in the village on March 24, they found there was no land for farming, no access to clean water, and a demand to sign a document full of rules they would have to follow. It wasn’t what they
had been promised.
“We couldn’t accept it. We went back to the monastery the next day,” said Ma Nilar Win.
Now more at a loss than ever, the villagers decided to ask Sayadaw U Agga Dhamma to contact DKBA leader Col. San Aung to accept his earlier offer. After he had gone to the armed group’s territory to see if the proposed site was suitable and decided that it was, the monk agreed.
“I could no longer assist them here,” said the monk, who on April
“Without a home, a person cannot live. I could not ignore their suffering.”
–DKBA leader Col. San Aung
1 had received a mysterious letter— claiming to be from the Bago District government, but lacking an official seal—warning him that his monastery would have to be closed because it was too close to the Alaini dam.
After nearly two months of uncertainty, suddenly it was settled.
laughing.
In the end, the group managed to reach its destination—but not before doing an end run around the authorities that involved splitting into two groups, with one acting as decoys, visiting temples in Mon and Kayin states, while the other, larger group made a dash for DKBA-controlled Kawkareik, in Myawaddy Township.
Three days after their journey began, the two groups reunited at their new home: Kyauk Khet.
The hill territory wasn’t as wild or strange as some had feared. And the DKBA delivered on all of its promises: Each family was given a plot of land measuring 40 feet by 60 feet, initial food assistance, and building materials for new houses.
To their relief, the new residents of Kyauk Khet also learned that that they would have no trouble making a living. There were plenty of jobs available at local rubber and teak plantations and cornfields, providing daily wages of 130-300 baht (4,000-10,000 kyat) and around 20 days of work each month.
The journey from Yangon Region to the borderlands
But as happy as they seem to be with their new circumstances, many of the new settlers are still palpably angry at how they ended up here.
“They cut my home to pieces with saws and knives. It took about 30 minutes to make my house disappear,” Ko Htun Min Naing, 33, recalled bitterly. “They told me that if I tried to resist, they would send me to prison.”
Now that they are here, the villagers have differing ideas about the future.
Ma Nilar Win, who first moved to Thameegalay at the age of 12 and later met her husband Ko Htun Min Maing there, said she still wanted to return to more familiar territory.
“We’re saving up to buy new land near where we used to live,” she said, adding that she wants to save 1,000,000 kyat to buy a plot of land about the same size as the one she has in Kyauk Khet—enough to build a small house and grow some vegetables.
But with a new primary school set to open this month, and plans to build
a bigger clinic or hospital in the near future, the DKBA seems to be betting that most will stay. After all, most of the village’s older inhabitants have been here since they were similarly displaced by conflict in Kayin State some 20 years ago.
Some, at least, see no reason to
leave, and every reason to stay. U Myo Min Htun, a father of two who lost his land in Inpatee village near Thameegalay and is now on the newly formed village management committee in Kyauk Khet, is one of them.
“I have no plans to go back. We have suffered enough there.”
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The government should encourage local players in the booming energy sector, says U Ken Tun of Parami
‘TIME FOR AN ENERGY BOOST’
The Parami Energy Group of Companies is a leading local provider of services to oil and gas companies operating in Myanmar; but, as CEO U Pyae Wa Tun (who is also known as U Ken Tun) is quick to point out, local fi rms account for a mere 5 percent of investment in the country’s crucial energy sector. This needs to change, he says, because it is costing the government much-needed tax revenue. As he tells The Irrawaddy’s Kyaw Hsu Mon, Myanmar needs to implement policies that will make it less dependent on foreign companies and put development of its energy sector on a more sustainable course.
of Companies?
We provide services to foreign oil and gas exploration companies such as Daewoo, PTTEP, Petronas, and Total, which in recent years have invested a total of at least US$300 million a year in Myanmar.
How many local firms are working in the energy sector?
There are around 20 registered companies, [but only 10 are really active]. What I’ve seen, however, is that most only provide transportation and catering services. This
really bothers me, because Myanmar has been in this business for a very long time. This country has the oldest continuously producing oilfield in the world [Yenangyaung in Magway Region], which has been in operation since the 18th century. I always mention this long history to our foreign partners, because they think Myanmar is technically deficient and has many restrictions for foreigners.
In fact, compared to many other countries, it is relatively easy for foreign companies to work here. As long as they abide by the rules of their partnership with the [state-run] Myanmar Oil and Gas Enterprise [MOGE], they
are free to take their profits out of the country if they discover oil or gas.
As you may know, MOGE discovered the Yadana offshore field, but handed over operations to Total because it didn’t have the money to develop the field itself. This [lack of capital] is why foreign companies control 95 percent of Myanmar’s energy sector.
Why can’t local companies get a larger share of the sector?
We could if we worked together more closely with the foreign companies. They could share their technology and we could provide our local knowledge. That’s how we [Parami] have survived in this sector.
In 2012, foreign energy companies spent $1 billion in Myanmar, and as more enter the country, that is expected to rise to $5-6 billion a year in the near future. Myanmar’s GDP is around $60 billion, so that means 10 percent of GDP will be from foreign investment in the energy sector alone.
Are you saying that foreign companies exert an inordinate influence over the economy?
Yes, because local firms are so weak. It’s the same in the telecoms sector, where two big foreign telecoms companies have been given licenses to operate in Myanmar. In the energy sector, foreign companies are not just doing exploration and production, but also providing services. There should be a policy to prevent foreign companies harming local companies that provide services in this sector. That is the government’s responsibility.
In Malaysia, for example, the government told foreign companies that they have to work with local firms and share their knowledge and technology with them. The government needs to have a sustainable energy policy, and must ensure that there is more of a win-win situation for local and foreign investors.
Should the government favor local companies?
It has to be win-win. The policies have to benefit both the local companies and the foreign companies—and the local society, too. If only local companies benefit, they will be accused of being cronies; if only the foreign companies benefit, it will be hard for local companies to provide jobs to local people.
Who are your major foreign competitors?
There are four big companies in the oilfield services sector—Baker Hughes, Halliburton, Schlumberger and Weatherford. Then there are also regional players. Drilling an oil well typically involves the services of about 40 companies, providing everything from catering and lodging to equipment and ship rentals.
Have you tried to produce oil or gas yourself, together with the MOGE?
We’re working on some onshore blocks in Hinthada Township [in
Ayeyarwady Region] with an Indian company now. The Indian company has a 77.5 percent share, and we’re investing the other 22.5 percent. They’re the main operator, and we’re working with them.
Do you think local energy firms will be able to survive if, as you say, their share of investment in the sector is just 5 percent?
I don’t think it will hurt local companies if they don’t get a larger share. Even now, they can make $50 million a year, at 5 percent of $1 billion. If that increases to $5 billion, they’ll get $250 million. But if their share doesn’t increase, the biggest loser will be the country. The more we [local companies] make, the more we pay in taxes. If we could eventually get 30-40 percent of the market, the government would earn a lot more in taxes. That’s why the government should promote more local involvement in the energy sector through better policies.
of a profit, Heys continues to innovate in the hopes that it will ultimately find a formula for lasting success. The key to this has been its marketing strategy, which relies heavily on the popularity of Facebook and other social networking sites to expand its customer base.
On its Facebook page, Heys emphasizes that it doesn’t use cheap cooking oil or MSG, both of which are common in local restaurants. The company also uses microwavable boxes instead of the usual Styrofoam packaging—another plus for those who worry about the safety of their food.
Of course, none of this would count for much if the food wasn’t very good— but judging from the growing number of customers who keep coming back for more, the cooking is more than up to snuff.
“I buy from them because of the quality, the taste and the packaging, which is much better than what you see out on the street,” said Ko Aung Aung, a satisfied regular who says he orders from Heys almost every day.
Planned a week in advance, the meals—costing 1,600 kyat or 2,100 kyat, depending on the selection—are not confined to Myanmar cuisine: Shan, Chinese and Thai are also regularly on offer. According to Ko Aye Lwin Zaw, another member of the founding trio, Heys strives for variety, despite the challenge of finding affordable ingredients amid ever-rising food prices.
In Myanmar, it has long been a common practice for people to pay someone outside the home—either a restaurant or simply a housewife living in the neighborhood—a monthly fee to prepare meals for them. But now a new option is available for those who don’t have the time or inclination to cook for themselves: lunchbox delivery services that will bring your meal directly to you.
Inspired by Korean dramas, which often feature office workers who order in their meals to save time in the middle of a busy day, the new businesses cater mainly to the needs of urbanites who
don’t want to carry food during the daily commute or brave the lunchtime rush at local eateries.
Leading the way in this still novel approach to feeding the hungry masses of Yangon is the Heys Food Catering Services, established in May 2013.
“Mostly we deliver to companies. Some people also want food delivered to their homes, but because of some problems, we haven’t been able to provide our service to them,” said Ko Thura, one of three former chefs and hotel workers behind the thriving business.
Although it still doesn’t make much
Based in Yankin Township, Heys also faces transportation constraints. It can only deliver to areas where it has received 30 orders or more, and often has trouble delivering on time due to traffic jams.
Despite these hurdles, however, the budding young company shows every sign of being on the right track. Many people have shown an interest in working for them, and they are much in demand as a caterer for parties and other events. There are even plans afoot to expand to the capital, Naypyitaw.
“We’ve been interested in the food business since long before we started this, and we’re crazy about creating food,” said Ko Thura, explaining what drives him and his partners. “We just can’t sit still.”
It's always a good moment when the delivery man arrives with lunch. PHOTO: JPAING / THE IRRAWADDY
Ua Thein Swe is a retired director at Myanmar’s Ministry of Planning and Finance and a former associate executive director at the World Bank.
Currently working with the Asian Development Bank (ADB), he tells reporter Thit Nay Moe that the agricultural sector should be prioritized in Myanmar’s economic reforms.
The government has been instituting reforms, but there seems to have been little change in the agricultural sector, would you agree?
That’s right. Despite a lot of talk about small and medium-sized enterprises, the reform process can only really benefit the general public if it includes agriculture. The economy should be upgraded focusing on reforms in the agricultural sector, which employs 70 percent of the whole population. As long as we don’t address this sector, the reforms will not succeed.
Myanmar is no longer a top rice-exporting country, while the extractives sector has risen.
According to the statistics of the World Bank, the percentage of GDP from agricultural products decreased from 57.3 percent to 30.4 percent between 1990 and 2010. In the industrial sector, 7.9 percent has increased to 20.3 percent in the same period, and in the services sector, the share has gone from 7.2 percent to 19.5 percent.
So, the waning of the agricultural sector compared to the industrial sector seems to be true. Theoretically, the decrease of the agricultural sector and the rise of mechanized farming will bring farmers into factories in urban areas. But, here in Myanmar, there is also the rise in the extraction of natural resources like petroleum and
natural gas at the same time as the fall in the value of agricultural products. Selling off resources may lead to failure because, in the long term, these natural resources are not renewable and may one day run out.
In most countries, a reform process is done systematically, step by step: agriculture, then industrialization and then service provision. In this process, basic agricultural production must rise in both quality and quantity before it leads to industrialization. But here, the agricultural sector has decreased, and while our rice is still top quality, we are not exporting as much as we used to.
Monetary institutions like the World Bank and the ADB have come to Myanmar, but they have not provided effective assistance to the agricultural sector, while just focusing on sectors that are less difficult. Most of the assistance is focused on energy or electricity. They are also important sectors, but the possession of land for farmers, production and distribution of good quality crops and the free growth of a market for crops are more critical. The government needs to prioritize this. It is critical to create job opportunities for our citizens, without only making jobs in urban areas or having people go abroad.
In the reform process, laws providing for the possession of land should be accurate and justifiable. If good and fair management cannot be implemented or if good reforms in the agricultural sector are not done, undesirable results will follow.
The World Bank and the ADB have provided loans for projects like electricity and road construction, which make sense and can be completed quickly. But to eliminate poverty, the World Bank should provide techniques and supervision on, for example, how to make quality tea leaves and how to get high-quality fertilizers to tea leaf farmers. Instead, with the involvement of cronies, road and school construction has been implemented, benefiting cement and tar dealers. Locals are still poor and it is ineffective.
Myanmar’s economy should grow 8.5 percent during the current fiscal year, higher than earlier forecast thanks mainly to rising gas production and investment, the International Monetary Fund said in June.
In January, the IMF predicted that Myanmar would have 7.7 percent growth during the fiscal year that ends March 2015.
The fund left unchanged its forecast that inflation during the fiscal year will be 6.5 percent.
The IMF, which set up a monitoring program in Myanmar in 2013, said it would “intensify” its technical assistance and training. Team leader Matt Davies told Reuters the Central Bank of Myanmar had undergone “huge change” over the past two years, including gaining independence from the Finance Ministry and managing a floating exchange rate.
Mr. Davies welcomed Myanmar’s decision to allow a handful of foreign banks to begin limited operations after they receive licenses in September. However, he noted that their entry “will place further demands on macroeconomic policy and stretch supervision capacity.”
The IMF also warned that structural frailties threatened prospects for growth and urged the government to implement broad structural and policy reforms. –Reuters
Visa-free travel into Myanmar for all citizens of Asean, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations, should be implemented by the end of this year, the country’s tourism industry chief said.
Myanmar has already signed visa-free agreements with five of the 10 Asean members, but negotiations have still to be finalized with four other countries, including neighbor Thailand, said tourism federation secretary-general U Kyi Thein Ko.
Myanmar aims to achieve visa-free travel across the
10 member countries by the time Naypyitaw hands over the chairmanship in January, he told regional travel trade publication TTR Weekly.
Next year is also supposed to herald the beginning of the Asean Economic Community, a European Union-style open trading market.
Myanmar has signed visa-free agreements with Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam Philippines and Brunei, but has still to sign with Thailand, Indonesia, Singapore and Malaysia, TTR Weekly said. –William Boot
Two new domestic airlines are expecting to get the green light “soon” to begin flying both domestic and regional scheduled routes, according to U Win Swe Tun, the director general of Myanmar’s Department of Civil Aviation.
“Both Apex and FMI are waiting for approval from the MIC [Myanmar Investment Commission] to start operating scheduled flights. All documents are in the last stage of approval,” U Win Swe Tun said.
The two prospective carriers, both owned by Myanmar business tycoons, will be based in Naypyitaw.
Apex Airlines intends to serve the capital, Myeik, Mandalay, Heho, Yangon, Dawei, Nyaung U and Kawthaung domestically, as well as Singapore, Kuala Lumpur and Bangkok. Apex is owned by U Khin Soe, a businessman with interests in the fishing, hotel, and petroleum industries.
A subsidiary of the First Myanmar Investment (FMI) Company has been offering chartered flights, as well as a regular daily service between Yangon and Naypyitaw, and is looking to expand into scheduled flight services. FMI Air Charter Ltd currently offers chartered flights with two planes—an ATR-42 and Beech 1900-D—rented from state-run Myanma Airways.
FMI was established in the early 1990s as part of SPA Myanmar, a conglomerate of more than 40 businesses owned by the business tycoon Serge Pun. –Kyaw Hsu Mon
A World Bank report said Myanmar can greatly increase its agricultural exports if it can improve the quality of rice through investments in rice mills, while it should also reduce transport costs and formulate policies to support rice export and agricultural production.
The report, titled “Capitalizing on Rice Export Opportunities,” said that since reforms began in 2011 rice exports have significantly increased, but in the past two years export volumes leveled off at about 1.3 million tons annually.
It said much of the rice produced in Myanmar is of low quality and unfit for export to high-value markets such as the European Union, where Myanmar products are exempt from import tariffs under the Generalized Scheme of Preferences, which grants least developed countries preferential market access.
“The current rice export strategy favors the production of low quality rice, which is largely sold to Africa and China. Consequently, farmers have earned minimal profits and agribusinesses have skipped necessary investments,” a World Bank press release said. “The situation is worsening as the global demand for low quality broken rice is shrinking.”
Paddy yields in Myanmar are among the lowest in Southeast Asia at 2.5 metric tons per hectare and most rice mills use outdated machinery that produces rice with a high percentage of broken grains, making it unsuitable for foreign export markets, according to the World Bank.
By MARWAAN MACAN-MARKAR / BANGKOK
The latest military regime in Thailand has brought to national attention an army compound located at the corner of a tree-lined street in a historic quarter of the capital. It was once the main venue for the army’s top-heavy generals and lower-ranking officers to relax. They still refer to it as the Army Club.
But its new use since the late May coup—Thailand’s 12th successful military putsch out of 19 attempted power grabs in over 80 years—is far from recreational. It has been transformed into something darker: the gateway into a world of militaryenforced detentions for hundreds of Thai citizens summoned to hand themselves over to army custody.
The junta’s modus operandi was unveiled soon after the coup and has proceeded, hardly surprisingly, at an efficient military clip. Names of those wanted by the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO), as the junta is known, are read nightly by a deep, somber voice over television and radio stations, conveying a hint of McCarthyism. And those named on the list have little choice but to obey: report the next morning to the Army Club.
The regime’s dragnet has been spread far and wide in its quest to go after the political class and those whose names have popped up in
Thailand’s deeply polarized political divide. It began with former elected prime minister Yingluck Shinawatra and many of her cabinet ministers, and extended to parliamentarians, businessmen and women, academics, political activists, broadcasters and journalists from across the political spectrum.
Most of them meekly obliged, resulting in stays at various military compounds across Thailand from one to five days. Only one openly protested— senior journalist Pravit Rojanaphruk— by covering his mouth with black tape as a stand against the climate of repression, before walking through the gates of the Club on a rainy Sunday morning. But some intellectuals named on the junta’s nightly lists have opted to spurn the military’s hospitality, going underground or fleeing into exile.
The NCPO, however, sees the implications of naming names and the stays in military custody in a different light. There is nothing to fear, assured Col. Werachon Sukondhapatipak, an NCPO spokesman, from the summonses and the military treatment that follows.
“We are inviting them to give them some time to think about their actions, so they can be relaxed and be calm and
they are looked after very well,” he said of those called in and immediately relieved of their mobile phones to cut off any outside contact. “We also talk to them to get their opinions as part of this cooling off period.”
The rationale for such a “military vacation,” as Mr. Pravit sarcastically wrote of his ordeal as a “guest detainee,” is no laughing matter. The junta’s chief, Gen. Prayuth Chan-ocha, has been drumming into the heads of Thailand’s 67 million population that it is one of a slew of plans to restore political peace and prevent the country, in the military’s view, from teetering towards a civil war. The color-coded politics that has divided Thailand has to end, the gruff strongman has repeatedly said.
The information gathered from those in military custody will reportedly be collected to shape the junta’s reform and reconciliation blueprint. The junta’s outreach will also feature National Reconciliation Centers in all
provinces, aiming to drive home the latest martial tune: happiness and unity in Thailand.
“[Gen. Prayuth] has emphasized the need to create a new value for our people … the divided society must be mended [so that] living in harmony becomes a priority,” said Col. Werachon. “Gen. Prayuth has said this is a daunting task for him.”
Such professed intentions, however, fail to mask the military-style approach to shepherding millions of famously free-wheeling Thais into a pen of national unity, patriotism and political harmony. And the nightly naming of names raises the obvious question: Can detentions in military custody achieve political peace and reconciliation?
“The military’s solution is classic textbook, with ideas based on deterrence,” said Panitan Watanayagorn, a
national security expert at Bangkok’s Chulalongkorn University. “The strategy is to neutralize its opposition by categorizing people as troublemakers, those who cooperate and those who can be co-opted.”
The lists of people summoned reinforce that view. After all, a large swathe of those in the junta’s crosshairs are politicians, the business elite, activists, broadcasters and intellectuals directly linked or associated with Ms. Yingluck’s elder brother, Thaksin Shinawatra, the former, twice-elected prime minister who was ousted in the September 2006 military coup.
The elder Shinawatra, living in self-imposed exile, has remained a scourge of the traditional, ultra-royalist establishment, which includes the military, ever since he emerged on the national stage in 2001 and saw his proThaksin parties win every successive election. No wonder the post-coup purging of “network Thaksin,” as Mr. Panitan describes it, has also extended to targeting pro-Thaksin bureaucrats in important ministries, such as defense, being transferred to ineffective positions.
The junta’s unorthodox push to secure political peace has, for obvious reasons, drawn the attention of veteran conflict-resolution experts in the country.
“They are pursuing a dual-track approach by trying to keep the people [detained] quiet for a while and making the case for peace, law and order to prepare the way towards reconciliation,” noted Gotham Arya, former director of research at the Centre for Peace Building at Bangkok’s Mahidol University.
“According to the Western textbook, this may not work, because of the contradiction, since those detained are opinion leaders and they may have negative feelings afterwards.”
Yet, the junta may have something more homespun to grapple with. How will the strategy “correspond to the sociological approach of Thailand?” asked Mr. Gotham, given the attempt to force people to reconcile.
“If the people accept this new approach, then reconciliation may be possible.”
“We are inviting them to give them time to think about their actions.”
–NCPO spokesman Col. Werachon Sukondhapatipak, on the treatment of detaineesMilitary police officers stand guard during a reconciliation event organized by the army at a shopping mall in Bangkok on June 14.
The modern world may be catching up with it, but Pyin Oo Lwin still has plenty of natural beauty and old-world charm to offer visitors
By ZARNI MANN
For such a small place, Pyin Oo Lwin packs a lot in. The former British hill station, located 3,510 feet (1,070 meters) above sea level and 42 miles (67 km) east of Mandalay in the Shan Hills, is home to some well-preserved colonial architecture, two elite military academies, more than half a dozen Hindu temples, and Myanmar’s only botanical garden.
Beyond the town itself, you can see the country’s first and finest coffee plantations, fields full of produce thriving in its temperate climate, including strawberries and a colorful array of flowers, and natural attractions such as two magnificent waterfalls within easy reach.
Established by the British in 1896, the town was originally named Maymyo, or “May’s Town,” after Colonel May, who commanded a regiment of the British Indian Army that was temporarily stationed here in 1887.
Today, you can still see evidence of its military roots. Uniformed cadets from the elite Defense Services Academy and the Defense Services Technological Academy are a common sight around the central market, near the Purcell clock tower, on weekends.
The ties to Myanmar’s neighbors to the west are also much in evidence. Although the pre-British population of the site where Pyin Oo Lwin now stands was mostly ethnic Danu, these days, a sizeable portion of the town’s
population is descended from settlers from India and Nepal. This connection to the subcontinent was on full display in late May, when the completion of a four-year-long renovation of a local temple dedicated to the Hindu god Ganesh was marked by a festival attended by thousands of local devotees and others from around the country and abroad.
In a country that has a history of ethnic and political conflict, Pyin Oo Lwin has an enviable reputation as an oasis of relative harmony. Although it is still seen by many as an excellent place to get away from the troubles of the world, some locals feel that it is in danger of losing a precious part of its legacy.
While some of the town’s older red-brick buildings have been turned into cozy guesthouses and hotels for visitors, others stand empty, surrounded by pine and cherry trees and long-uncut grass. Owned by the government, which keeps them as lodgings for officials, they often get sold off to outside investors who have little respect for their historical significance.
“When rich people—especially the Chinese—come in and buy houses with big compounds, the first thing they do is tear them down,” said U Mya Khaing, a local nursery owner and longtime resident. “They build gigantic houses or divide the land up for sale at a high profit.”
“A lot of colonial buildings have disappeared in this way,” he added. “It’s a shame not to value this heritage.”
Local people say that the rush to capitalize on Pyin Oo Lwin’s appeal to visitors is also harming some nearby natural beauty spots.
“The manmade bridges and food stalls all around the Pway Kyaut waterfall are so ugly,” said Ko Aung Phyu, who runs a shop in Pyin Oo Lwin’s central market. The construction of a resort near the Dat Taw Gyaing waterfall has also had a negative impact, he said.
“Before, the environment around the waterfall was so tranquil, and really gave you the feeling that you were deep in the forest. But now, with the view of that resort, that feeling is completely gone.”
While many Pyin Oo Lwin residents lament some of the changes they’ve witnessed in recent years, most visitors still seem to feel that the town and its environs have a lot to offer. Some things have even improved, according to those who have kept coming back over the years.
The most notable example of development done right is the National Kandawgyi Botanical Garden, founded in 1915. Expanded in area from 150 acres to 240 acres in 1924, it underwent a major renovation in 2000 and
now includes an orchid garden and butterfly and fossil museums.
Managed by the Ministry of Environmental Conservation and Forestry, the botanical garden is used not only for research, but also attracts tens of thousands of visitors annually.
“When we were young, the park was very lively only in the summer and winter, but now there are so many things to see year round,” said
Daw Yin Yin Nwae, who was visiting from Mandalay with her family.
“The fossil museum and butterfly museum are incredible for our children,” she added. “We come every month now to have a family picnic and enjoy our time here.”
As times change, Pyin Oo Lwin is likely to change along with them, for better or for worse. But whatever name it is known by—Pyin Oo Lwin, Maymyo, the Town of Mountainous Stairs or the Misty Town—this is a place that will always remain close to the hearts of locals and visitors alike.
Getting There: There are direct bus services from Yangon to Pyin Oo Lwin, but the easiest way to reach the town is by car, taxi or minivan from Mandalay.
Shopping: Pyi Oo Lwin is famous for its knitwear, strawberries, coffee and other products associated with its relatively cool temperatures.
If you happen to be visiting Botataung Pagoda one day and suddenly notice a lot of Thai being spoken around you, don’t be surprised. The pagoda, which is one of Yangon’s most important Buddhist sites, is also home to a nat, or spirit, shrine that has recently begun to attract a growing number of tourists from neighboring Thailand.
The shrine’s fame has increased dramatically since it was featured on a Thai TV program that told the story of Amagyi (Sister) Mya Nan Nwe, a devout Buddhist famous for her devotion to the pagoda, located just south of the Strand Road in Botataung Township.
Amagyi Mya Nan Nwe, who was born on Dec. 22, 1897, and had family ties to Myanmar and Shan royalty, dedicated her life to making merit. A
vegetarian from her early childhood, she donated generously to religious projects, and played a key role in rebuilding Botataung Pagoda after it was destroyed in an air raid at the height of WWII.
Following her death in 1957, Amagyi Mya Nan Nwe became a revered figure in her own right. In 1990, a shrine containing a statue of her was erected inside Botataung Pagoda, and from that point on she was worshipped as Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi (Goddess), a nat with the power to grant the wishes of those who appealed to her for help.
According to Ma Sagawah Soe, a Thai interpreter, no effort was made to introduce Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi to visitors from Thailand.
“They just saw the crowds of people who gathered at the shrine, and we explained about Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi and how Myanmar people believe in her,” she said. “Many Thais also believe in nats, so some made offerings to her, and when their wishes were fulfilled, Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi’s name spread among Thais by word of mouth.”
Although Myanmar and Thailand have a long history of enmity, nat worship—like Buddhism—is one thing they have in common. And as Myanmar opens up after decades of isolation, many Thais are now finding it easier than ever to explore this shared spiritual heritage.
Despite the fact that Thai nationals (unlike citizens of Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia and the Philippines) still need a visa to visit Myanmar, more than 600,000 of the 1 million tourists who came to this country in the first four months of 2014 were from Thailand, according to the Ministry of Hotels and Tourism. When visa-free travel for Thais—expected to be approved by Parliament later this year—becomes a reality, that number will likely rise even further.
For many Thais, Myanmar’s reputation as a country where people still take nat worship very seriously makes
downtown shrine has become a major draw for Thais“Please help me.” A worshipper whispers a request. ALL PHOTOS: HEIN HTET
it a natural destination for those in need of supernatural assistance.
“A colleague told me about Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi after visiting Myanmar,” said a Thai woman who identified herself only as Fah. “That’s why I’m here now to ask for her help with a problem I have. I pray to her and believe that my wish will come true.”
Ning Ning, another Thai woman who was traveling with Fah, expressed similar faith in Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi’s wish-granting powers.
“I believe in her. I will pray to her for my health and economic well-being,” she said.
According to U Kyaw Win, the person in charge of caring for the shrine, Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi seldom disappoints. He added that many Thais who come to the shrine are repeat visitors.
“They often come back to offer money and pay obeisance to her when their wish to overcome some difficulty has been fulfilled.”
Thanks to her newfound status as a nat, Amagyi Mya Nan Nwe continues to be a boon to Botataung Pagoda more than
half a century after her death. Her shrine alone receives more than 600 visits a day, including at least 30 from foreign—mostly Thai—visitors, according to U Kyaw Win.
Supplicants typically offer baskets full of flowers, fruit and incense, available at the shrine for 2,00012,000 kyat (US$2-12). Many also pay an extra 500 kyat for soy milk—
Amagyi Mya Nan Nwe’s favorite drink—or make cash donations.
Those with a request to make lean in closely to the statue to whisper their prayers into Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi’s ear while rubbing her hands and back. Then, when they’re done, they shout “Success!”—and hope for the best.
Of course, Myanmar being Myanmar, there is also a shady military connection to this story. When the country was still under direct army rule, the former dictator, Snr.-Gen. Than Shwe, reportedly had the statue of Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi handcuffed at night after she appeared to him in a dream, warning of “bad consequences” for his brutal suppression of the country’s people and monks.
No strangers to military rule themselves, Thais might find this bizarre side note yet another reason to feel that the people of this country are their kindred spirits. In any case, if Mya Nan Nwe Htayyi can help bridge the differences between these two neighbors, she will surely have more than earned her place among the pantheon of the virtuous.
The road from Kalaymyo to Hakha is lined with grave markers. With little flat ground in the northern Chin Hills, cemeteries are exchanged for solitary memorials overlooking the knuckled mountain ranges. Some—usually those of the young—have photographs embedded into them; the elders are left faceless. All are etched with a name, an age, and a date of death. Yet in Chin State, as in the other six states of Myanmar, the lives of those who lived and passed away here are not recorded and remembered in the Myanmar language, but in an ethnic-minority language and literature.
I was in Chin State accompanying former political prisoner and writer Letyar Tun as part of “Hidden Words, Hidden Worlds,” a project funded by the British Council that assists in the development of creative expression in ethnic-minority languages. Twenty people—pastors, farmers, journalists and business owners, from Hakha, Kalaymyo, Thantlang, Kanggaw and Matupi townships—had gathered in Hakha to spend five days learning how to write short stories.
Among them was Sara Simon Thang, a lecturer at the Zion Baptist College in Matupi Township. Short
with a wide smile, he travelled more than two days on a motorbike over mountain tracks to get to the workshop. He was one of the few participants who could speak English.
“Our youth cannot write their own words, only Myanmar,” he said. “This is what they are taught in schools now.”
“You mean Lai Hakha?” I asked, referring to the language that our workshop was focusing on.
“No,” he answered, with a small shake of his head. “I am from Matupi. I can read and write Lai Hakha, but I mean they cannot write in Matu language.”
Silenced for over 50 years by government policies forbidding the teaching of ethnic-minority languages and the publication or distribution of literature in those languages, these literatures are among the least accessible forms of creative expression in Myanmar. That they survive at all is
largely thanks to the perseverance of monastic schools in Shan and Mon states and church-based committees in Kayin, Kachin, Kayah and Chin states, where the mother tongue is taught as part of instruction in the religious literature. Secular cultural groups, often unregistered, have also played a role. Some, such as the Kachin Culture and Literature Cooperation, run annual summer camps teaching junior- and middle-school students their own language and literature.
It is these groups that the British Council collaborates with to identify ethnic-language writers to co-lead with a respected Yangon writer the seven ethnic state workshops, such as our Chin writer, Rev. Tang Mang, the literature secretary of the Chin Association for Christian Communication.
Often these writers are at the frontline of efforts to preserve their oral-storytelling traditions, publishing—despite the lack of resources and, until recently, the threat of imprisonment—texts that record their proverbs, sayings and origin myths, such as Rev. Tang Mang’s “Lai Tuanphung, Chin Folktales Vol. 1.”
However, narratives that reflect
contemporary conditions are almost unheard of. And yet, it is these narratives that allow for scope and depth to raise awareness of critical social and cultural issues relevant to communities ignored for so long.
So while the “Hidden Words, Hidden Worlds” workshops focus on the technical structure of a short story— narrator, plot movement and dialogue—the instructors also guide the participants on content, on exploring emotive connections to the landscape they live in and how to interweave these themes into a literary form.
In our Kayin workshop, led by San Lin Tun and Saw Chit Than, one of the stories we discussed centered on
a young man who leaves his village to work illegally on a construction site in Thailand. Separated from his family, he descends into a spiral of alcohol and drug abuse, eventually contracting AIDS. Leaving Thailand to return to his village, he is exiled by his elders. It is only after the arrival of a doctor, who educates the villagers about AIDS and teaches them that the young man is no threat to them, that he is allowed to finally return home.
In the Kachin workshop, environmental concerns, the threat of Chinese influence in the local economy and, of course, the continuing war were dominant motifs. In Hakha, poverty, exiled Chin communities and sustainable farming practices were important points of discussion.
With workshops in Kayin, Mon, Kachin, northern Shan, Chin and Kayah states already completed, and only Rakhine State left to go, the next step will be to translate the stories into Myanmar, which the participants will do themselves, and publish them in Yangon as the first collection of short stories in ethnic-minority languages.
But there is still so much more that needs to be done.
Back in Hakha, as the participants were preparing for the end-ofworkshop Live Literature Night, one of them, Rev. Lang Uk, a retired pastor also from Matupi Township, but from a smaller ethnic group named the Zo Tung, pulled an unbound folio of papers out of his bag. Already an author of four Zo Tung-language hymn books, the manuscript contained his unpublished collection of writing about Zo Tung customs, rights, rituals, proverbs, sayings and legendary myths.
“Our stories haven’t been published yet,” he said, handing me the papers. “This is the first time they have been written down. Can you help me to publish?”
I looked down at the 100 pages and I really didn’t know what to say.
For a sophisticated restaurant with heart and social conscience, head to Shwe Sa Bwe in Mayangon Township. You’ll find delicious nouvelle cuisine, exceptional service and beautiful surroundings. Yes, I find no downsides here!
Dine among the chic red interiors with stylish furniture, cozy corners and cute curios or alfresco in the
secluded magic garden of bamboo, palms and bougainvillea. Throughout, the ambience is cool charm. The music is contemporary, audible but unobtrusive. It all says, “Relax and enjoy.”
The set three-course menu is a thrilling challenge. Enticing selections of starters, mains and desserts each offer a choice of four tempting dishes for dinner (26,000 kyat) and two for lunch (14,000 kyat). You might choose a two-course meal (dinner 23,000 kyat, lunch 11,000
kyat), tax and service inclusive. The menu changes monthly and can be explored online beforehand.
Our group of merry diners made a point of trying them all, to great satisfaction. Starters included a creamy and delicate beetroot and goat-cheese mille-feuille with herbs and tomato salad; fresh fish and seafood salad served with pomelo dressing; and chicken-liver cake with supreme sauce; or chilled minestrone soup. Interesting creative combinations delight the palate with artfully balanced flavors.
The variety of mains included sea bass and tomato filled with ratatouille, leek compote and red wine sauce; tender, grilled long squid with chorizo risotto and saffron sauce; pot-au-feu (a French beef stew) with port, seasonal vegetables and herb sauce; and roasted veal medallion, croquette
potato, snow beans, and green pepper sauce. Each was a work of art, cooked to perfection and received with joy.
Desserts included the delectable pineapple tart with pineapple sorbet, a popular strawberry bavarois with strawberry coulis, a wickedly rich chocolate charlotte with coffee sauce, and a crème brûlée with bourbon vanilla to die for. The mighty cheese platter (dinner 10,000 kyat, lunch 7,000 kyat) might also fit your bill.
Shwe Sa Bwe makes its business to nourish not only diners but also the young people of Myanmar. When Francois Stoupan came here and fell in love with the country in 1998, he saw a need and decided to create a
Opening at the end of 2011, Shwe Sa Bwe invites young people from all over the country to apply for scholarships to participate in the intensive full-time one-year courses in cooking and restaurant and hotel service.
Mr. Stoupan explains: “Our trainees are selected based on their willingness to learn and their commitment to stay in Myanmar at the end of the program, to be part of the country’s growth and help to develop and feed others. We don’t want to give this quality training so people leave the country or their family. We encourage respect and kindness to parents.”
The best two students from each year are retained at the center and encouraged to share and multiply the valuable learning in a “training of trainers” model. The dining room features a wall of graduate portraits,
a testament to the effort by all. Today Shwe Sa Bwe is self-funding, paying for the 15-20 annual scholarships and program operation from the restaurant income.
Learning from top French chefs and service trainers, the young students get quality instruction and seem to love the opportunity. Ko Nyi Nyi, 20, from Kachin State, looks forward to finding work in a five-star hotel. “There are possibilities to head to Dubai or Qatar to get some more experience but most important is to work here in Myanmar,” he says.
Ko Salai Chit Tin from Myeik, also 20, is also excited about taking part in the program. “Part of the great thing is making new friends. We come from all different parts of the country and learn to get along, to help each other and work together. Boys and girls stay in two separate houses provided nearby. We’ve done eight months of the course by now and I’ve really enjoyed it all.”
Shwe
20 Malikha St., Mayangon Township
Tel: 01-66 1983, 09-42100 5085
Email: shwesabwe@gmail.com
Open for lunch and dinner from Tuesday to Sunday – closed for Sunday lunch
Shwe Sa Bwe has a full bar with mixology as part of the education. It’s perfect for a night out or a peaceful afternoon meeting. There’s an eclectic selection of books and welcoming sofas, decaf coffee and herbal lime blossom and peppermint tea. Do visit the exciting bathrooms to freshen up: gentlemen’s in zebra, ladies’ in golden leopard, minus the spots. For an all-round wonderful dining experience, take yourself to Shwe Sa Bwe.
Artistic collaboration between locals and foreigners is alive and well in Yangon.
Recent events coordinated and sponsored by both foreign and national entities have introduced the community to high-caliber cultural entertainment, as well as a spirit of mutual appreciation for the arts and their respective backgrounds.
As a musician myself, the seeming growth of such events in this city looks like a welcome opportunity to bring out talent teeming under the surface.
During one weekend in June, I attended two events sponsored by the Myanmar Ministry of Culture, and the Myanmar Music Association, in collaboration with the embassy of Ireland in Hanoi, Vietnam.
The events, at Chatrium Hotel and the more intimate Pansodan Scene, were designed as a cultural exchange between the musical traditions of Ireland and Myanmar.
Mick Moloney, a respected Irish musician, New York University professor, and frequent visitor to Myanmar, was accompanied by three very talented young women, and shared the hall with several professional Myanmar musicians from the National University of Arts and Culture and the Myanmar Music Association.
Mick explained that one of the first things he noticed when he arrived in Myanmar was that the two countries
share a national symbol: the harp, or as it is known in Myanmar, the saùng gauk.
The events were the first ever, according to the sponsors, to feature both national instruments on one stage. One of the highlights of the evening for me was when renowned harpist Michelle Mulcahy was
spotlighted to perform her own composition–part of her PhD in Arts Practice–which deftly combined the harp traditions of both Irish and Myanmar cultures.
An enchanting performance by local harpist Saung U Thein Han Gyi on the saùng gauk, and vocalist U Thet Swe followed. The pair weaved divergent melodies together and apart for a unique sound enhanced by the ancient Myanmar instrument.
The events also featured readings by Irish poet, and now Yangon resident, Joe Woods from his own work as well as excerpts from James Joyce’s ‘‘Ulysses’’ for the first official celebration of Bloomsday in this country.
Another event that weekend brought an artistic exchange of contemporary musicians, poets, and painters to the ever-popular Open Mic Night at Nawaday Tharlar Art Gallery.
This was the ninth such event, organised by gallery curator Pyay Way, who says that he started Open
Mic Night as a way to “prove that young people are interested in art and that they are talented.”
This was the second occasion on which I got to perform a selection of my own original music, joined throughout the night by a multitude of other extremely talented Yangonites and foreign artists.
I was particularly impressed by several young Myanmar poets, whose articulate, profound, and sometimes humorous pieces occasionally elicited skin-tingling emotion from the crowd.
A major crowd-pleaser of the night was when a Myanmar band played a rendition of The Beatles’ ‘‘Hey Jude,’’ and the audience joined in for the song’s recognizable singalong ending.
These events provided a platform for a diverse expression of Yangon’s burgeoning artistic talent, and deepened the underlying promise that locals and foreigners alike are boosting a breath of fresh air into the city’s arts scene.
Beauty queen Ma May Myat Noe has returned home after being the first from her country to ever win an international beauty pageant.
The 18-yearold Miss Myanmar beat out contestants from more than 30 countries, including South Korea (2nd), Macau (3rd) and India (4th), to win the Miss Asia Pacific World contest, held annually in South Korea since 2011.
She was also invited to become a special member of the Korean Film Actors’ Association—another first for Myanmar celebrities, according to Myanmar’s national director at the pageant, U Hla Nu Htun.
“This is a special moment not only for her, but for the country. We Myanmar people dreamed of taking home the beauty crown. We’re happy to show the world the beauty of our Myanmar belles,” U Hla Nu Htun told The Irrawaddy, following Ma May Myat Noe’s return to Yangon.
“She said she will first devote herself to social work, to give back what she received from the country. She will have a couple shoots for adver-
tisements and will need to take care of her education as well.”
Ma May Myat Noe, who was officially crowned in late May, is also well known for performing in Myanmar singing contest “Eain Mat Sone Yar.”
She attended Myanmar International School in Yangon and then moved to Singapore for secondary school, where she excelled in athletics, particularly field hockey. She is now preparing to take examinations to study at the university level.
For about half a century of military rule, Myanmar beauty queens did not leave their country to compete at international competitions.
The first Myanmar contestant to do so, Ma Nang Khin Zayar, participated in a pageant in Japan in 2012. Following in her footsteps, two other Myanmar contestants, Ma Khin Wint War and Ma Htar Htet Htet, also competed at international pageants, winning various smaller awards for popularity on social media.
But before Ma May Myat Noe, no Myanmar pageant winner had won the main crown at an international pageant abroad.
Myanmar said goodbye to one of its leading contemporary artists when U Kin Maung Yin lost a battle with throat cancer and passed away on June 10 at the age of 76.
Recognized as a leader in the first generation of Myanmar’s modern art movement along with U Win Pe and U Paw Oo Thet, U Kin Maung Yin is a legend in contemporary art today.
“All I know about art is that simplicity is perfection,” he once said, and indeed, many of his paintings are almost childlike in their simplicity. Still, his art features unexpected colors, unique styles and timeless flourishes that have become an inspiration to younger artists.
A self-taught painter, U Kin Maung Yin began painting in the 1960s but trained earlier as an architect, gaining an appreciation for form and color that would later influence his art.
Among his works, probably the most well-known are those from a portrait series of the pro-democracy leader Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, featuring mask-like faces and elongated forms inspired by the Italian modernist Amedeo Modigliani.
U Kin Maung Yin was known not just for his paintings but also for his monk-like devotion to art alone and a proclivity for a hermetic life of solitude. He lived alone in a one-room wooden house in northern Yangon, and is survived by no immediate family members.
