|
Red tape as psychological tactic
There is a saying amongst Buddhists in Burma- "The three happiest
days in a man's whole life are day he returns home from his temporary
ordination as a monk, the day he is released from prison, and his
wedding day."
Because of this everyone who has to live in prison always talks
about the day when they will be released from prison because they
all want to know whether or not the saying is true.
But the saying may be different from reality for political prisoners.
Some political prisoners think that without any changes in politics,
being released from prison is nonsense and the unhappiest thing.
Some think that being released from prison without any political
changes may not be a happy event but is necessary to continue the
struggle. But there is the same feeling that all want to know how
they will feel when they are released from prison, no matter whether
there are political changes or not.
I had that feeling myself on November 22, 1996 when I was released
from Insein Special jail. At that time every political prisoner
was convinced that I would never be released, because on the evening
of November 20, 1996, a warden called U Aung Khiang officially informed
me that I would be released on November 21, 1996. We all were surprised
and asked him whether it was a joke or not. Before no political
prisoner had been informed about when he would be released. The
warden confirmed it and said that the information came from the
prison director's office.
I still remember that night we all were singing in turn many songs
secretly composed in prison about "meeting soon outside the
wall with victory." After the singing, my friends advised me
what I should do when I was released and not to forget them, left
in prison.
I have to confess that I could not sleep the whole night and I
did not know whether I felt happy or not. The next morning a warder
opened my cell and advised me to take a shower in order to prepare
for my release. I was surprised because it was not normal for us
take a shower in the morning. After the shower, the warder allowed
me to greet my comrades who lived in other cells.
When I told everyone that we would meet each other with victory,
I noticed we all were ready to cry. We had all lived together in
the small cells for nearly six years. Even couples do not live like
we did. We lived together for 23 and half hours a day in a small
and dirty cell. One may imagine how many hours we had to be together
over six years. As a result, our familiarity with and trust in each
other were very deep.
After these greetings, our cellblocks were silent. I could understand
that all were lost in their thoughts, happy about my great moment,
but wondering about their own futures, and whether they would be
released. Normally anyone who was to be released was celled to the
jail office before 10 a.m., but by 1 p.m. no warder had celled me.
I was still waiting outside the cells. My friends advised me to
ask a warder why my release was delayed. Finally, I asked a warden
but he answered that he knew nothing.
Then a great noise erupted from all the cells-"This is not
a joke but a pschyological attack. Give an explanation!" At
nearly 4 p.m. the vice chief warden came to see us and explained
that it was their fault. In reality it was not my release date.
After apologizing, he ordered his warders to send me into my cell.
That night our cellblock was obviously more silent than before.
In my mind I concluded that I would not be released, but rather
sentenced to another prison term. I thought the authorities had
discovered my leading role in the 'Prison University.'
In my cell, I noticed my cellmates were looking up at the very
dirty ceiling without saying any words. I could not sleep or say
words to them also. At midnight, Ko Maung, the eldest in my cell,
said without looking at me, "Don't think about anything. Take
a rest and try to relax. One day we will all be released, not only
from here but also from any kinds of dictatorship."
I didn't know how the night turned into day. According to the prison
rules we all have to sit in the prison siting position twice every
day, in the early morning (5.30. a.m. to 6.30. a.m.) and in the
evening (5.30. p.m. to 6. 30. p.m.).1 After sitting in the jail
position that morning, one warder suddenly opened my cell and told
me to pick my materials up, and asked me whether I had any non-prison
clothes. He also told me to go out of the cell. We were all surprised
and asked him "what for?" He said that he knew nothing
but he thought that I was going to be released.
As soon as we heard his words, we looked at each other and Ko Maung
suddenly shouted to him, "We are not foolish. Tell your officers
they do not need to wage pschyological attacks on us."
The warder replied, "Please understand me. I am only a low
ranking warder. I don't know anything."
Then he called a high ranking warden who said that he knew nothing
but this time he believed I would be released or my prison term
would be extended. He continued, "You should say goodbye to
your friends because whatever happens you will not be sent back
here again." The policy of the prison authorities was that
when a prisoner was given an extension to his sentence he would
be transferred to another prison.
I gave aloud goodbye to my friends and they replied to me loudly
also by shouting "Good luck Moe Aye, and down with the dictator!"
Ko Lay, the youngest of my cellmates, softly said, "Wherever
you are, please try to inform us." Ko Win, another of my cellmates,
also said, "If your prison term is extended, take care of yourself-especially
your health. If you are released, keep holding our resolution and
fighting for our movement."
Then, I followed the warder towards the office of Insein special
jail. When I arrived there, two warders and one warden searched
my body thoroughly. After being searched numerous times, I had to
follow the warden towards the main gate of Insein special jail.
While walking there, I could not guess my future and know whether
I would be released or not. I didn't try to ask the warden about
it.
When I entered into the gate bowing my head (according to the prison
rules, every prisoner has to do so), my heart was beating at a record
pace. I realized that this was where I would find out whether I
would meet my mother or a new military tribunal. The warden ordered
me to sit in the jail position and told some warders to search me
again. After the search, U San Ya, the chief warden of the Special
Jail, said, "You are going to be released.
After leaving here, I'd like to suggest you concentrate on your
future like. I don't really want to meet you here again."
He ordered some warders to lead me to Insein Central jail. I noticed
that I could feel nothing about his words. I told myself not to
expect it to be true, because I had been subjected to psychological
tricks in the past.
Then I followed two warders out of Insein Special jail, which was
totally contained inside a large compound along with Insein Central
jail. The main administration for both jails was located in the
Central jail. Prisoners must attend the main administration area
before they can be released. The warders and I had to walk for 10
minutes out of the gate of the Special jail and along the road to
the gate of the Central jail.
Although I did not know whether I was being released or not, it
was the first time for six years that I could walk outside the ugly
red wall of the Special jail. While walking towards the central
prison, I could see many people waiting outside the central prison
for their turn to visit their loved ones. They seemed to be worried
about them. I noticed they were so busy and hurried that they did
not notice me with a jail uniform walking outside the wall. But
a few people noticed me and undoubtedly were surprised to see me,
because the only prisoners they were used to seeing outside the
under the sunshine and rainfall very hard. In comparison, my skin
was overly white as a result of living for six years in a small,
dirty cell where there was no fresh air and no sunshine. One thing
about me that they would have been familiar with, though, was my
too thin body.
I wanted to say something to anyone because it had been so long
since I had a chance to see and talk with outsiders, and I was bored
with seeing and talking only with my cellmates. However my wish
was not fulfilled. I had trouble with my vision, because for six
years I had not looked at anything further away than my cell walls.
Now I was surrounded by open sky and space, and my eyes could not
adjust and began to stream with tears. I also noticed that my skin
became very itchy, which I think was reaction to being exposed to
sunlight after so long without it.
Then, I arrived at the Insein central jail gate. What a funny situation-I
was told that I was nearly going to be released, but I was now about
to enter Insein Central prison. The prison gate area consists of
two separate gates with offices between them. As usual, I had to
enter bowing my head and take my slippers off. As soon as I arrived,
my body was searched by many warders. One high officer ordered to
me to take off my shirt and asked some questions about my biography.
I still remember my position at that time. One of my hands held
my shirt and the other had to hold my slippers, but my hands also
had to clutch each other in accordance with the prison rules.
Then I had to follow a warder to the registration office inside
the central prison. When I arrived there I saw nearly 50 prisoners
with naked upper bodies like me squatting in front of the office.
First, I had to enter the office and the warder who lead me reported
to a high prison officer that I was a 5(j). This referred to section
5(j) of the Emergency Provision Act, which most of the political
prisoner were charged under. I was really disappointed because not
only the junta but also the prison authorities were reluctant to
use the words 'political prisoner.' We were called '5(j)' in prison.
Before the high officer asked me anything, one warder in the office
told me how to answer politely and humbly to his officer. Then the
high officer asked me my prisoner number and about my body markings,
to check my identity. He continued by asking when I was arrested
and how many years I had been sentenced to, and which tribunal had
heard my trial. And he asked me where my parents lived and where
I would go after being released. After asking many questions, he
said that I should not be involved in politics, that it was not
my business. Then he ordered his warders to send all prisoners including
me to the office of the chief warden. I asked him if I could wear
my shirt because of my bad health. He answered slowly, "Keep
in your mind-you are still in prison."
Although I wanted to complain, I successfully calmed myself down
and followed the warder. All the prisoners went back in between
the prison gates, where the chief warden had his office. Before
we could enter the office, we all had to sit in the prison position
inside the gates and some were beaten because they could not answer
swiftly enough. I still remember the corporal's angry words to all-"Everyone
has to be beaten in order to make them afraid to come back here."
Then he called each name and beat everyone's back with the baton.
Luckily before my turn a warden ordered him to send us into the
office quickly because the chief warden would go out soon.
After being driven into the office like cows, we had to sit on
the concrete floor in the jail position. I noticed the office was
just an area in which to give prisoners a final check, rather than
the actual office of the chief warden. The hall was a little wide
and very dirty. There was no furniture except for one table and
one chair located at the top of the hall. Ten minutes later, the
chief warden along with one warden and three warders entered the
hall. Then the chief warden had a seat and the warden called each
name loudly. Everyone whose name was called had to stand and walk
to the table, bowing his head. When he arrived there the warden
asked some questions and the chief warden checked the registration
book. After being questioned, the prisoner had to go back to his
place and sit down again. All had been sentenced to less than one
year's imprisonment. Some women were sentenced for prostitution
activities, either for working as prostitutes or for owning brothels.
In Burmese criminal law, it is permitted to convict people on suspicion
of committing a crime, and they can be sentenced to up to one year's
imprisonment without trial. The people usually targeted are homeless
people. When a crime is committed and the police are unable to locate
the offender, homeless people in the area of the crime will be arrested
so that the police can show that they have found a suspect. Of the
50 prisoners being released an offence. Two young guys had been
sentenced on suspicion of using drugs.
Finally I was called and had to follow the procedure. Every one
seemed to be surprised at my case and after the chief warden went
out they asked me how I could have survived living there for six
years. Their questions made me surprised also, because I thought
they would already know about the conditions the political prisoners
were kept in. I tried to explain to them that there were many political
prisoner who were sentenced to from seven years to life imprisonment,
and they had all been living here longer than international community
must also be totally ignorant of the situation. (When I later arrived
in Thailand I learned, in fact, that the international community
knew a lot more about this than the people inside Burma, political
prisoners and their families are intimidated and threatened not
to say anything about the situation of political.)
After that we went out of the hall and were driven out of the gate.
We changed out of our prison clothes into ordinary clothes, and
squatted in front of the prison wall for a while. Then 11 prisoners
including me were pushed into a prison van. At that time the sun
was overhead, yet I still had not been released. I could not think
about my friends in prison or my family.
Until then I didn't know what was really happening and didn't feel
anything about my release. I knew only that I was treated like a
beast. In the van I asked one guy where the van was going. He replied
that the van was going to the criminal record department of police
headquarters. He explained that everyone who had committed any crime
had to be sent there before being released. If the department concluded
there was no need to release a prisoner, anyone could be sent back
to prison. I felt really disappointed after listening to him and
wondered why the junta behaved so. Why did the junta think its political
prisoners were criminals?
In the first few minutes of the journey I was glad to be able to
look out of the van to look at the many changes in Rangoon. But
then I began to feel carsick, as I had not been inside a vehicle
for six years. It felt like it was the first time I had ever been
inside a vehicle, and it made me want to vomit. There was no food
in my stomach, though, as I had not been given any meals that day.
When we arrived at police headquarters (the former BSPP headquarters)
located in the crowded area of Rangoon, we were all driven out of
the van and ordered to sit in a closed-off portion of the platform
around the building. Many people were walking past our enclosure,
and I hoped that I might see a friend there, but this was not so.
While we were sitting there, many people who walked near us gave
us brief glances but were not interested. I thought they might think
we were all criminals, and might underestimate us as well.
Then five armed police lead us in big room on the third floor where
only female police officers were sitting and working. When we arrived
there six female officers were having lunch on their table and one
female officer ordered us to sit in silence on the concrete floor.
After finishing lunch, one to come her table. I didn't know what
she asked them, I knew only I felt very hungry. I looked at the
watch on the wall and knew the time was 2 p.m. I thought my friends
in prison would talk and guess about me. At that time my patience
was running out and I wanted to run out and go back to my dirty
cell. While I was thinking this, two male police officers ordered
me to follow them and we went out somewhere where many photos were
taken of me. After having my photo taken, I could not bear my feeling
any longer, and I asked them if I would be released or not. They
replied, "We don't know. Our duty is to take your photo."
I explained them that I had not yet had breakfast and felt hungry.
One officer said that they had no responsibility for 5(j). After
that I was sent back to the first room but at that time there were
no prisoners there. I didn't know if they had been released or not.
I asked one female police officer if I might have the right to sit
on a chair and have any snack. She also replied that she had no
authority to allow this. I will never forget the feeling that I
suffered at that time. Finally, I took a risk and I stood up and
walked up and down in the room. When no officer complained about
my action, I went to one female officer who I thought was kinder
than the others and asked her if I could drink water.
She looked around and pointed to somewhere where I could drink
water. Then, another female officer told me that they really understood
my situation and in return I should understand their situation also.
She continued that someone from the political department would call
me soon and that department would make the final decision. Twenty
minutes later, a policeman came into the room and told me to follow
him. At last, I had arrived in a big room where someone would make
the final decision. I saw three police officers sitting on the chairs
in the room. One officer smiled at me and asked me if I felt hungry.
I replied nothing and stared at them for a while. Two or three minutes
later, a policeman brought tea and many snacks and put them on the
table. As soon as I saw them I could not stop my desire to eat,
but I warned myself to remember my first experience at the military
interrogation center six years ago.
One officer said, "I am really sorry for everything. I do
hope you will understand our situation. Now, feel free to take tea
and snack. In the next half hour, MIS 7 will ring us to say whether
you will be released or not."
I was really angry and replied, "I don't understand your procedure.
If they (MIS) don't want to release me, there is no need to bring
me here. They don't need to wage a psychological attack against
me. I'm not a criminal but I was treated worse. You look at your
watch at what the time is now. Nearly4 p.m. I have spent many hours
and been treated as beast."
Another officer interrupted by saying, "After checking your
case within 20 minutes, you will be released. I understand your
inconvenience, but I will ask some questions of you."
Then, I drank tea and ate snacks. At that time suddenly I remembered
my friends in prison and wanted to run there in order to send them
tea and some snacks. In prison we could never drink and eat such
tea and snacks. When one officer asked me questioning me, he asked
me if I needed some more. In reality I needed them, but I answered
"no thanks".
It was nearly 5 p.m. when a policeman came into the room and gave
a letter to one of the officers. After reading it he said, "You
are really released but not from here. A police officer from Kyauktada
Township, where you were arrested in 1990, will take you to the
police station and you must sign some documents there. And then
everything will be finished."
I didn't want to complain about anything but I said that if I were
really to be released, I would like to ring my friend, who had already
been released from prison, so that he could pick up me. I said,
"As you might know my parents live far away from Rangoon and
I have no relatives here. I also have no money. So I need to stay
with my friend in Rangoon tonight."
He agreed and allowed me to call my friend. Luckily I could talk
with him and he promised me that within 30 minutes he would arrive
at police headquarters. After that I felt I might be released, but
I could not feel it completely. I remember I wished my friend would
come to see me. Twenty-five minutes later, one policeman reported
to his officer that my friend had arrived downstairs and had requested
to meet with me. The officer nodded to his policeman and said to
me that they were going to go home and one policeman would stay
with me. Before my friend arrived, they wished me good luck and
went out.
It was only when my friend arrived that I could think about being
released from prison. He had been arrested in December 1991 and
was released in February 1996. We had lived together in the same
call for nearly three years. As soon as we met each other we could
not say any words and we hugged each other with tears in our eyes.
Then he asked me what I wanted to eat and where I wanted to go that
night. He also asked many questions about our friends in prison.
I also explained to him the situation there and passed messages
from friends in prison to him. It was strange that we never talked
about each other's families. At that time one policeman came in
and said that we had to go to the police station to sign some documents.
I became convinced that I was being released because we had a chance
to go to the police station by taxi and my friend was also allowed
to go with me. After signing my release papers, the officer asked
me where I would sleep that night and when I would go back to my
hometown, and noted my answers.
It was 8 p.m. when my friend and I walked out of the police station.
In my eyes, there were many changes in Rangoon, especially the latest
model taxi that I'd never seen before. On the way to my friend's
house I noticed there were many restaurants and vendors. When I
arrived at his house, his whole family warmly welcomed me and asked
me what I wanted to eat. They already understood about the situation
in prison, so I had thought this might be their first question,
After meeting my friend's family I wanted to meet with my mother.
And I could not sleep on the mattress with the mosquito net the
whole night, missing my friends in prison and with my strong desire
to see my mother. I do believe my friends in prison could not sleep
that night thinking about me, wondering whether I was released or
had an extended prison term. I have tried to tell them how political
prisoners are released and how I felt the day I was released. The
saying about the day of being released from prison was not true
for me.
Endnotes
1/ In the prison sitting position the prisoner must sit cross-legged
on the floor with his hands on his knees, back straight and head
bowed.
|
