 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
Prison Without Bars |
|
Then I said very loudly so that many others could hear me, "Just like Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, I am under house arrest!" It was the first time many of my neighbors had seen anything like this. Restricted movement, the inability to make a living, offenses to personal dignity, and severe harassment for meeting and speaking freely: these are facts of life not only in prison. After my so-called release from prison I often felt that I, along with other former political prisoners in my country, was still behind bars. Impossible Employment For the ordinary businessman, these are very dangerous words, so although they did not want to fire me, they did. I lost my job and my income and of course it became very difficult to continue my studies at Rangoon Arts and Science University, where I was majoring in Burmese Literature. Trying to find another job, I applied at some business companies. The application forms asked, "Have you been involved in politics?" And as soon as I wrote the words "former political prisoner," I was denied the job. Soon I realized I would not find a job with a company, so I decided to become a private teacher. But this kind of employment displeased MI and they did everything they could to prevent me from teaching students. They visited me regularly at my house and told me bluntly, "We dislike your being a teacher because you are one of the student leaders from the 1988 student uprising." They suggested that I write an article in the state newspaper entitled 'When I was in prison, they treated me very well.' They also suggested that I go abroad to find work. They wanted me to get out of Burma. To the first statement, I replied that I would gladly stay in my house if they paid me money for my survival. As for their suggestions, I let them know that I could not write an article in the state newspaper. Actually, I very much wanted to write an article in the state newspaper that was based on the truth, but I could not write lies. I added that they had no right to send me abroad, since I was a Burmese citizen. My sarcastic responses made them angry. One of the Intelligence men threatened me, while pretending to care about me. "Do you want to go to prison again? We are talking to you because we want you to deal with us. We really sympathize with you, so that's why we offer these arrangements." "Before I was released from prison," I replied, "I already knew that you would approach me with these bribes. I have my answers ready." But a dictator is never happy to hear the truth. Threats by Military Intelligence The others were impressed when I spoke like this, and the news spread. They too wanted to say these things to the officers, but they were afraid of them. My friends and family warned me that I would be arrested unless I was careful. But the next day I continued my tutoring. Now my students were taken to the police station and questioned. Had I discussed politics with them and organized them against the government? The students had never had such an experience and grew frightened. Furthermore, their parents were questioned. Why did you put your child in a class with a politician? But the students continued to attend my classes. On this day my father was summoned too. He was instructed to control me better and told he was responsible for me. Why did my family and I have to deal with this now? I had completed my sentence; and even that was punishment for an action that was not a crime. But political activists are a threat to the ruling government and in order to protect themselves, they have to make us miserable. It had been my own choice to become a politician - not my family's. I was sorry that they also suffered because of me. Many of my colleagues have had the same experiences. Many of us, living in Thailand now, left our homes because we did not want to put our families in danger. First we were prisoners in our own country, and now we are trapped outside of it. After these threats, some time passed peacefully with no more trouble from the MI. But one day the problems started again. I was attending my friend's birthday party at a small restaurant.2 Everyone was in a happy mood and we were singing "Happy Birthday song." However, we lost that happiness 15 minutes later as we received some bad news. Everyone was upset and nervous. And then they looked at me with sympathy and asked me many questions. What will you do? Do you want to run away? "Why should I run away?!" I shouted. I had not done anything wrong. They had no right to put me behind bars. "You should not go back home now. Soldiers, policemen, and the Headmaster of our quarter are raiding your house," one of my closet friends informed me in great haste. However, I went back home and when they saw me, they ordered me to sit in front of them without asking questions. The Headmaster held a letter with the order to raid my house. Then I was taken to their secret place. When my parents heard this they began to cry and asked the military officer why they had taken me. Their answer for my family was to stay silent. When I arrived I was treated like a culprit. Five officers sat facing me across the table. I crossed my legs. They scolded me: "You should be sitting like one who has been accused." "You should not treat me like a criminal, I am a private teacher," I complained. "Your letter requested a discussion with me, not an interrogation. So we should discuss." My body shook with anger. While we were arguing, I could hear the voices of other former political prisoners in the next room. The officers were accusing us of being involved behind the scenes in a small movement that had occurred in downtown Rangoon the day before, which I did not know about. They asked if I was involved. I was determined to maintain my dignity and not to allow them to frighten me. I answered, "No." But they did not believe it. And they told me, "If you were not involved, you must know who led that movement." Again, I said "No." I added, "If I knew, I would not tell you." "You did not take a lesson from your three years imprisonment," remarked one of the military officers. He continued, "You are asking for another imprisonment." Finally, I told him, "If you have the right to do as you like, then do it. I cannot answer your questions anymore as I was not involved in it and I do not know who led the peaceful demonstration. Military Intelligence units are set up for that reason. It is MI's duty. When you destroy your units, then I might deal with you." At this point, I heard other ex-political prisoners being sent back to their home after only a few minutes of questioning. I started to worry about not being released because it was taking more than four hours. Then they changed methods and offered me incentives. The chief officer claimed, "We want you to deal with us. We need you for the sake of the people." "I really want to deal with the army if the military officers can keep their word," I replied. "Otherwise I do not." When he heard that, he was very angry and asked if I meant they lied. "You would know your self when you looked at your past," I exclaimed. I did not want to deal with any organizations or person that did not keep their word. I was told that I would stay there until another order came out from the higher-ranking officer. In a small room, two soldiers guarded me with guns and full equipment. We had a conversation. One of them was a high school student. He knew that I was a teacher and held high respect for me. He called me "Saya" (teacher). He told me that he had failed English every year and humbly requested that I teach him. At these words, I suddenly sympathized with these young soldiers. He apologized to me, "I did not want to guard you, but as a soldier I must follow orders. I do not understand why you, a teacher, were taken." I told him, "I understand you. One day we will work together for our country. For now you should act according to your duties. I will not be angry if you are ordered to beat me." I did not want any trouble for him. I went to sleep. At six a.m. officers awoke me with an offer to go home under an arrangement that was basically house arrest. I was to report my act- ivities every evening to the Headmaster of my quarter. They wanted to control my movements even though I was not a prisoner and had not done anything wrong. So I went home, but I did not do what they ordered. Two days later was an important historical date in Burma. On July 7, 1962 the then government led by General Ne Win had destroyed the student union building in Rangoon. On this day in 1994, the local government was nervous about what I might do. I stayed in my house all day long. I wanted to show the Headmaster what I was doing so I invited him to my house. For a while, we talked about other things. Soon, an entire platoon of soldiers with guns surrounded my street. At first I looked out without saying anything. Then I joked to the soldiers, "Your duty is just to watch me. No need to roam around the streets." Then I said very loudly so that many others could hear me, "Just like Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, I am under house arrest!" It was the first time many of my neighbors had seen anything like this. That night I received a letter from the Chief Commander of the military. It said he would like to talk with me and asked me to meet him at the Kyaik Ka San Pagoda on the outskirts of Rangoon. Poems that Deserve Imprisonment I arrived for my private meeting with one of the higher leaders. As soon as we sat down he showed me his hand. According to astrology, the lines on his hand predicted that he would kill many people in his lifetime. I said, "I see you will kill many people without sympathy." He said, "Yes, I know what this sign means. So I conduct meditation in order to control my bad temper." I continued, "Because you are a commander, your words and wishes can influence many people's lives. But you must be careful with your decisions. If you want a quarter moved, those people will have to move. If you want to put someone in jail you have the power to do so, even if there is no evidence against them." He and I sat alone for two or three hours. He explained many things, such as what the SLORC3 had been doing. Then he asked me why people disbelieved what they read in the state newspapers and saw on the state television; and why they preferred to listen to BBC, DVB, RFA, and VOA?4 I explained that people think the SLORC is always lying. When I hold my hand in front of my face, you see one side, and I see the other. My hand looks different to each of us. But if I turn it sideways, we can both see the same view. The MI wanted me to work with them and join their side. I also wanted them to be on the side of the people. We could only work together if we met in the middle. He asked me to become an informer for them. I said that I would agree to that if he would meet with Daw Aung San Suu Kyi and release Min Ko Naing and other student political prisoners. But he ignored my suggestion and so I ignored his request. Our discussion finished unsuccessfully. I left to continue my work as a private tutor. A few days later soldiers, the police, and MI raided my house without any legal papers, and after taking me to their secret place they presented me with three poems.5 During the 1988 uprising I was the editor of O-way magazine, published by All Burma Federation of Students Union (ABFSU). I still kept some of our writing in my house. I did not write the poems they found, but I said that I had. If I had denied that they were mine, they might arrest my father instead. Now they were going to arrest me. The next day was to be the final match of the World Cup. Brazil and Italy were playing and I felt eager to watch it. I asked the officers to wait until after the match to arrest me. But they denied me this request and I was kept at the police station. In the morning we had yet another private "discussion." They repeated the same threats and persuasions as I had heard during my meeting in the pagoda. But this time they added something. They asked me, "How does your family plan to pay back its financial debt?" If I agreed to work for them they would pay my family's debt. I faced a choice between two paths. I could go to prison, or I could betray the struggle. As much as I cared about my parents and sisters and brother, I knew it would be wrong to trade their financial security for a dishonest life. I gave them my final answer: "I will go to prison." As former political prisoners, we know very well how terrible it is to be in prison. We are even more afraid than others of being thrown back in jail. But our other option, to work as informers for the MI, means betraying the people who have died while fighting for democracy and human rights. That afternoon the policemen received instructions from their officer and I was placed in police custody, charged under Section 5J6 and accused of poisoning people's minds with three poems. I wish I could remember the exact words to these poems, but that memory is lost. However, I still know what the poems meant to us. "Who is the worst?" compared the three governments who have oppressed our country: the British government, the AFPFL (Anti-Fascist People's Freedom League) under U Nu, and the Burmese military regime, or SLORC. We concluded that the SLORC was the worst of all the oppressive governments that our people have suffered. "The fighting peacock that will tear down the dictatorship" honored students who had sacrificed themselves during the Independence Era, such as Bo Aung Kyaw, who was killed by the British government during a peaceful demonstration. We vowed to go on fighting to achieve our goal, which had remained the same: freedom from oppressive rulers. "Three friends" referred to Min Ko Naing, Moe Thee Zun, and the author. The poem described the rainy season; the weather was so cold and we wondered how our comrades in prison could sleep. At the same time, our other comrades such as Moe Thee Zun were sleeping on the damp ground in the jungle. And as for us, we were living in fear and being controlled like animals. Our comrade with the pen name "Bo Bo," who is still inside Burma, wrote this poem. In police custody I stayed with criminal prisoners, but they did not touch me. They thought I was a "Very Important Person." By now, the policemen were also afraid of saying anything to me. They knew that I would scold and humiliate them! I was treated quite well this time. The problem was that I missed the football match. By the time I was released it was October 1998. I had been in prison for four and a half years. In the same way the MI continuously questioned me when I was in prison, they also frequently asked my opinion after I was released. For example, after the military regime forced citizens to attend a mass rally to denounce the National League for Democracy (NLD) in 1999, they asked me what I thought about it. "It is unfair," I said. "Why don't you let the NLD have a chance?" "And what do you think of the current government?" Broken Hearts After my high school graduation (in 1983), I found a girlfriend. We intended to get married one day. But our relationship began to see problems in 1988. I was involved in politics, and she wanted me to stop and work in business instead, in order to provide a brighter future for us. I tried to gain her understanding by explaining why I was involved in politics, but the next year she asked me to make a decision; if I chose to continue my political activities then she would have to choose another life, apart from me. I could not give her a decision. I could only respond, "Choose for yourself." For nearly three months we lost contact because I was so busy with my work for the union, and when I was arrested in March 1990, she did not hear about it. By the time my family found out where I was and managed to come and visit me in Insein Prison she had already gotten married to someone else. After my release in 1993 I found someone new. But politics got in the way of this relationship too. Only one week after we fell in love, I was arrested again. My girlfriend tried to meet me while I was in police custody and was denied. When I heard about that, I became extremely angry and I told the police officers how important it was for our future. They finally agreed to let me see her. She asked me, "How long will you be in prison?" "I don't know exactly, maybe three years. Maybe five or seven years." "That is too long!" She was not an activist and she could not understand or bear the great difficulties of waiting for so long. "I will not be angry if you want to find someone else, as I cannot do anything for you until I am released," I told her. "But if you can wait for me until then, we will continue our life together." A year or two later, she got married to another man. This is not only my story. It is similar for many other political prisoners. Some men were already married when they were arrested; many of those men decided to sign a deposition in order for their wives and families to continue their lives without them. They volunteered to sign, but they were crying when they signed their names. It is a daily fact of life for political prisoners and former political prisoners - choosing between one's love for a person and love for his country. A Waking Nightmare Political prisoners are tortured both physically and mentally. We were cut off from society for many years. We were not allowed to read or write. Naturally, it is very hard to re-enter normal life. We feel depressed because we cannot find jobs. We get angry easily with others and want to avoid other people. Sometimes we have the sense that we are useless. These are signs of our psychological trauma, including depression. We also suffer from mental and emotional consequences from the continuing harassment after we are released. Many years later, if we hear a sound outside our house at night, we will not get back to sleep. We feel a sort of shock, and we fear that we are going to be arrested again. Former political prisoners must deal with threats to themselves and their families, restrictions on their movement, insults to their dignity, censorship of their self-expression in writing, speech, and association, and sacrifices in their personal lives. It is a challenge to find the bright side of these dark experiences, but we must keep looking. We cannot forget our friends who are still in prison; we are together in the "prison without bars" of our country.
. |
 |
|
About the Author He was arrested together with Min Ko Naing, chairperson of the ABFSU, on March 23,1989, but was later released. On March 16, 1990, he was arrested again for taking part in a demonstration demanding the release of all student prisoners, and was sentenced to three years with hard labour. He was released from prison in 1993 but was detained again on July 17, 1994 and sentenced to five years imprisonment with hard labor. He was released on October 2,1998 from Tharawaddy prison and he left Burma a year after his release. He is a joint secretary of Assistance Association for Political Prisoners (Burma)(AAPP) and lives in Thailand.
|
