Letters from Burma by Aung San Suu Kyi.

An Eventful Week

This has been a rather exhausting week. February 13, the day after Union Day, which we had celebrated so vigorously, was my father's birthday as well as Children's Day in Burma. One hundred and thirty children, ranging from little tots still unsteady on their feet to slender 12-year-olds on the verge of teenage self-consciousness, came to our Children's Day celebration, which has been organized by the youth wing of the National League for Democracy.

The children's entertainment program included a short skit, poetry recitals and three performances of traditional Burmese dancing. The /nabanhsan/ dance that depicted a village belle with her hair tied in bunches above her ears (nabanhsan refers to this particular hairstyle) enchanted everybody. It was performed by an exquisite 6-year-old with a vividly expressive face and a delicious dimple on one cheek. As she danced and acted out her role of coquettish beauty, two little boys, one standing on either side of her, went through the motions of admiring rural lads. They had handkerchiefs tied around their heads in the accepted style of rakish young manhood and mimed expertly to the words of the song that accompanied their act. The movement of their hands and motion of their bodies as they parodied flute-playing drew thunderous applause. One of the little boys had such a look of sweet deviltry, mischief sparkling in his eyes, that his face was a whole entertainment in itself. On the basis of the nabahsan dance alone many in the audience were ready to vote the children more talented than the adults who had performed on Union Day. The seriousness with which these young children approached their artistic training was impressive while the pure enjoyment, unadulterated by stage fright, with which they went through their performances was thoroughly delightful. We were strengthened by the spirit and success of our Union Day celebrations but our Children's Day program was truly refreshing and we felt appropriately rejuvenated.

Feb. 14 was the first anniversary of the death of U Nu, the first prime minister of independent Burma. His family and political associates had arranged a memorial ceremony at a large monastery in Rangoon. On Feb. 13, the committee responsible for organizing the ceremony was told by the authorities that no politicians were to be invited. The committee explained that invitations had already been sent out and that as U Nu himself was a politician, many of those who would be attending the ceremony were bound to be politicians. That night the local authorities held a meeting to plan what should be done the next day. It seemed the politicians whom the authorities were particularly anxious to bar from the ceremony were those who belonged to the NLD. It was ordered that things were to be made unpleasant for us when we arrived for the ceremony: We were to be pelted with tomatoes. A number of those who received the orders were filled with disgust and we were quickly informed of the plan. We decided to attend the ceremony as already arranged and should we come across any tomato throwers to ask them what -- or who -- had moved them to such action.

At half past 6 on the morning of the fourteenth, hundreds of people unknown to the organizers of the memorial ceremony turned up at the monastery. There was parked in the vicinity a Toyota car filled with three crates of tomatoes, which were said to have been bought by a police corporal. It was very likely the uninvited guests were members of the Union Solidarity and Development Association, a so-called social welfare organization formed under the patronage of SLORC. We were told that it was the secretary of the association's eastern district wing who had ordered the tomato offensive. In the event, nothing happened, perhaps because there were too many bona fide guests who were staunch supporters of democracy, or perhaps because those who had been sent to create trouble had no stomach for the task that had been set for them.

We were not able to stay long at U Nu's memorial ceremony because that same morning the first of a series of NLD educational lectures was scheduled to take place. The speaker was Dr. Tha Hla, one of the most eminent academics Burma has produced. He had been the rector of Rangoon University and later worked for many years with UNESCO. The scope of his scholarship was such that although he had received his doctorate in geology, he chose to speak on a prince from the late 13th to early 14th century whom he saw as the first ruler of Burma to promote unity between the Shans and the Burmese. The lecture, which was both informative and interesting, was followed by a lively discussion between Dr. Tha Hla and U Wun, the foremost poet of our country. What a pleasure it was to listen to well-bred men of outstanding intellect courteously exchanging views. How wonderfully reassuring to know that we had among us minds totally removed from the kind of mentality that moves along the lines of organized hooliganism.