Appendix 10

On August 4, 1994, military intelligence officers came to my house, searched inch by inch, and arrested me. I was not allowed to sleep for three days. The military intelligence staff questioned me continuously by rotation. I denied their accusations because if I had answered the truth, other persons and I would have surely been imprisoned. It was bitter to lie. I didn't want to lie. In order to protect other lives and also my life, I had to. The intelligence around me tried to irritate me with phrases like: "Don't lie to me." "You dared to do what you wanted, so you must dare to be punished." Though I was exhausted because of the series of questions day and night, I was not allowed to lean on the back of the chair and also the table in front.
One night, which one I don't remember exactly, the chief of the military intelligence came into the room where I was questioned, swore and aimed his hand to slap me by showing the article I wrote. "You did that, didn't you, bitch?" One of the intelligence officers who stood around shouted me when I jumped up immediately and prepared to fight against the chief. He went out saying gibberish to avoid a showdown before his subordinates because the age gap between us was vast, like father and daughter.
Even though I was exhausted, I tried very hard not to forget what lies I had said and in what order. I was asked about many different people. "Do you know him?" "Do you know her?" My answer was always "No," because those people who I knew would be in great jeopardy. They offered to release me if I confessed the truth to them. To sacrifice others' life to save my own life was not dignified. I tried to be released by saying lies. Khin Maung Swe, Sanchaung representative and Sein Hla Oo, Insein representative, who were arrested at the same night with me, tried to protect others, but they could not defend themselves. When I was asked about my teacher, who was a member of NLD, I said that she went to Japan so they wouldn't arrest her. I was asked for her address. I lied even though I had been there many times. The MI staff offered me a rest if I told them the truth. They warned me I would not be released if I lied more. I was being tortured to exhaustion and insulted. I knew I wouldn't be released, but the duty to lie for others remained. I didn't want anybody to be taken to the interrogation center or imprisoned. I hoped for help to come out of the blue, to be released as a human.
They put in front of me the article I had written in a New Era journal. This was based on the story of Win Maw Oo, who was shot to death the day after the military coup in 1988. I intended it to circulate only to propagandize in Rangoon District area. I did not know who sent my article to the New Era. I denied that I wrote the article but they did not believe me. They also questioned me about the article they found in my house. I had to confess that it was my writing because I was caught red handed. In fact, it wasn't mine.
I was sent to Insein prison on the fifth day of my arrest. I was put in a darkened room and soon after that the prison authorities closed my rear window with nails forever. There was only a one and a half by two-foot iron netting in front to get fresh air. Sometimes, the stench from the toilet corner of the room troubled me. I had a mat, a blanket and a plastic cup my first night in prison. I fell asleep, using the plastic cup as a pillow, though I was awoken by the bites of many bugs. I was surprised, so I sat watching the blanket on the mat and soon after, I could not believe my eyes when I saw the bugs come to me.
The next day I got a plate of brownish grey rice and a bowl of soup, the color of which I could not discern. It was dark because a kind of low quality bean, which was boiled with nothing but water and salt. Of course, it tasted like nothing. I also got a spoon of fish paste.
In the evening, I got a plate of rice and a kind of vegetable soup called "Tarlapaw." Most of the criminal prisoners could not even get this so called soup that was more like water. Because of malnutrition and the lack of water, prison and scabies were like twins.
Everyday, I heard the noises of shouting, swearing, and beating of wardens day and night. I heard the tragic story of Ma Sar, who had been pregnant and beaten to death just before I arrived in prison. The two old ladies were beaten by a female warden officer because they smoked during the morning ritual of sitting-in-prison. Some mothers were beaten brutally before their young children.
Because of the malnutrition and the lack of proper healthcare, many children died in prison. When a female warden left the women's ward carrying a big plastic bag, we understood a child was also dead.
One day, a female criminal prisoner with a skinny child came to the female warden officer. She told the officer she could not breastfeed her child. She could not afford milk powder for her baby because nobody came to visit her. Therefore, her once fat son had become a skeleton. The pathetic child was so thin and gaunt; his face resembled a monkey's. The mother didn't demand food for her child that she couldn't get. She only demanded to carry her child out of the prison to spare his life.
A female prisoner who sympathized agreed to bring the child to his grandparents' house when she was released. Therefore, the mother came to the officer to get permission for her child.
The female officer turned down it at once saying it was not in accordance with the jail manual. She only answered, "Inform the relatives to bring the child out." The mother, Thida Moe went back hugging her dying son, Saw Moe. Her parents did not have enough money to visit her, or to come and get the child. That young mother may have tried to spare the child by telling a fake story with spurious names. Soon after, I heard the child had passed away.
Children who lived in prison with their mothers knew nothing about the world. Sometimes we met children who did not know what dogs were. They were the children who did not know what a motorcar was, and didn't know people outside of the wall were free.
Homeless women, like old ladies, disabled and abnormal girls, would be arrested many times for vagrancy. It seemed the prison and the streets were their homes. They were never sent to homes of refuge. They were sent to prison by the charge of begging and living in the streets.
After being given my seven years imprisonment, I was taken from detention cellblock to sentenced block. The 7 by 9 foot cell was dark. I was transferred to a lighter cell after I had spent several months in this cell. We were only allowed to go out of our cells to walk 15 minutes in the morning and 10 minutes in the early evening. We had to kill the rest of time, over 23 hours in our tiny cells. Except very few religious books, we did not have the right to read. We were cut off from the outside news. We were only allowed to have conversations about our family matters on visiting days.
When we hungered to read, we put out the smoked cheroot filters and read pieces of news from filters. We had to read any words from filters. One day, some female wardens had rice with color packed with some pieces of newspapers and threw the papers into the garbage bin. When it was my turn to walk, I picked up the papers stealthily so as not to be seen by wardens. I managed to read to all my comrades. Just before I was released, my aunt had passed away and I had had the first chance to go outside of the prison for a short time for nearly six years. When I came back from home to prison, I succeeded in carrying a newspaper secretly on my body. I burnt it after the whole cell had read it.
Some suffered memory loss because of the general deficiency of stimuli, not being in touch with the outside news, and torture. Therefore, when they retold about a single matter again and again, there were some differences among first, second and third recalls.
This reminded me of people who suffered physical and mental torture in the Nazi concentration camps during WWII.
The poet, Sein Pin, who lived with me in prison, was paralyzed. As usual, she did not get any proper treatment. When she was released, I saw Aunt Sein walking shuffled headed to the outside world through the main gate of the prison. Soon after, I heard her health worsened, so that she did not even remember all about herself.
In 2000, the prison was decorated in a hurry. The ordinary prisoners were ordered to pay for the expenses. It was absurd that prisoners had to pay the every day expenses to operate the prison but it was usual in Burma. I joked later that we would pay for iron bars and locks to be imprisoned.
Our cellblock was also painted with white in order not to be seen outside. We could imagine the prison authorities were preparing for an important event but did not know exactly what. One day all prisoners in prison were ordered to sit in prison position, doors were closed and nobody was allowed to go outside of their cells and wards. We were also warned not to make any sound when the visitors come in. They intended to lie and claim that there were no political prisoners, and the cells were locked empty. Prisoners inside the cells could not see outside. We only knew a person came in and went out. Later, we heard that person was from International Committee of Red Cross (ICRC). It seemed he could not have chance to meet anybody but could only see the prison. That time, we were not in the cell compound where we had been. Before the ICRC delegation came, some female political prisoners from two cellblocks were transferred to a secret place and I was among them. I had to live in that secret place with Thawda Tun (42 years imprisonment), Dr. May Win Myint, 7 year imprisoned elected parliament member of Mayangone Tsp., until the ICRC mission in the prison was finished. Thawda Tun was sentenced to 42-year imprisonment, accused of copying statements against the regime at her own photocopy shop. She was only 29 years of age when we first met. 21 year imprisoned Kyu Kyu Mar was a mother of several children and she had no one to visit her. She struggled.
After being transferred back to our cellblocks, I never met Mayangone representative Dr. May Win Myint again. She was a kind-hearted doctor who shared food when her family visited her and she wouldn't take anything from us. Dr. May Win Myint is still in prison as well as other some imprisoned representatives.
Several months later, a delegation of ICRC came to Insein prison. This was the very first time for us to meet with people from outside. Thanks to them, we learnt some world news. Some of it was old news but we were very surprised as we were isolated.
When the ICRC visited again in the early 2001, Dr. Ulrich of ICRC told me the forecasted event in 2000 did not occur. We did not know what he meant. When I was released, I learnt what he meant was Y2K. We knew nothing about Y2K in prison.
In prison, I had to live in a murky and poorly ventilated cell for a year, and a tiny cell not that bad but pretty dark for a half year. The first tiny cell was extremely uncomfortable. Fortunately, I survived in that uncomfortable tiny cell.
Because of the lack of medicine and maltreatment, the best way to treat ourselves when we were in bad health was to bear with our sufferings until we felt better. We had to lie down when we felt dizzy, sit when better, and walk to and fro in a 7 by 9 foot tiny cell when wanted to do exercise.
A friend of mine who was released earlier could never be encouraged to further her university studies. Later, I heard what her problem was. She had lived in prison for over eight years with tortures. She suffered from memory loss and could not concentrate to read a single article.
After I was released up to now, whenever I see the scenes of nature like the beauty of dawn and the beauty of dusk, I miss my comrades who are still in prison, gazing at the prison walls from tiny cells.