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'The people at this place know all
about you. In fact, this place is responsible for your case, and
it's here where we convert destructive elements like you.'
Before he finished his speech, I was trembling with rage. The officer
continued, 'We know a lot about you. Even your leaders like U Aung
Gyi and Min Ko Naing had to confess to what they knew once they
were handed over to us here.'
I couldn't take it any longer and I shouted with rage,'I'm not a
destructive element!'
The officer slapped me across the face. 'Shut your fucking mouth!
We'renot here to listen to your lecture!'
'We're not destructive elements!'I shouted back,full of emotion.
'We're just fulfilling the wishes of the people.'
An officer hit violently acrossd the chest, but I continued, 'The
destructive elements in society are those who go against the wishes
of the people.'
I received another powerful and painful blow across my face and
I felt blood hushing from my nose. The pain lingered and I suddenly
dropped to the floor like a rice sack. I didn't lose consciousness
and I tried to get up again. As soon as I got to my feet, I started
shouting at my interrogators.
'You're brutal! Stop it! It's unfair to beat me likd this. We have
the right to protect the interests of the country….'but I wasn't
able to finish my sentence. All the officers in the room started
to beat, hit and kick me, while shoutine at me,'This is to protect
the interests of the country!'
I think there were three or four of them and I remember that they
beat me for a long time. At first, I tried not to show that I was
hurt, but I soon began to let out painful cries each time I was
hit. My whole body was in unbearable pain. I thought I stopped breathing,
and from time to time I lost consciousness. Eventually I couldn't
even utter a word. I don't know how long the assault went on for,
but when they finally left me I lay motionless on the floor. I couldn't
breathe and I was choking in my chest. I wished I were dead and
I tried unsuccessfully to hold my breath so that I would die. Feeling
wretched and in severe pain, I wondered how long I could stand such
abude.
The door clicked open and my torturers came back. They pulled me
up off the floor and made me sit on a chair. Not knowing what they
would do to me next, I shook with pain and fear. Then an officer
soke to me in a smooth, soft voice.
'Why did you let yourself get hurt? You're an educated person, so
don't be foolish.
Beneath the sof and seemingly kind voic I sensed what was intended.
I took the opportunity to ask for some water, but they only allowed
me to put my clothes back on. They then commenced the questioning.
The questions were mainly of a personal nature and there was neither
hurriedness nor anger in the officer's voice. He wanted to know
my opinion regarding the National Convention and I tried my best
to satisfy him. When he was done, they all left the room. His final
words before leaving the room were, 'you're the director of the
play and we're the characters. If you want us to play rough we'll
play rough, and if you play smooth and gentle we'll play intune
with you.'
After the session I felt something sinsiter was awaiting me. Just
in case, I went over what I had told the interrogator with the gentle
voice. After a while I became unsure of myself and wondered whether
it was ture that they knew everything about me. This thought was
tormenting me, so I decided that I would stop worrying about it
and instead take each question as it comes. I was still in a lot
of pain, but I felt bit better.
A while later they banged open the door and I soon realised they
were going to play rough. As anticipated, they asked me a countless
number of questions. They beat me whenever I hesitated answering
them, they hit me when they thought I'd lied, and they punched me
when I gave them the wrong answer. They used their hands, fists,
feet, elbows and knees-every part of jtheir body that can be used
as weapon in order to 'teach me a lesson'. At one point they forced
me down on my knees and stepped on my face and jumped over my body.
They did whatever they wanted to do to me and they were brutal beyond
comprehension.
I was soaked with sweat, my face was sticky with blood and I was
exhausted. I was wracked with pain and I couldn't concentrate. The
pain was so great that I felt as though all my flesh had been torn
from my body. I tried to meditate to lessen the pain, bit it didn't
work. Eventually I fell unconscious, into the darkness, and I lost
touch with my pain. When I came round I found myself lying flat
on my back and I had no idea how long I'd been in this state. My
hood was gone but I was still handcuffed. My whole body was soaked
with water and the floor was also wet. I realised they must have
sprayed me with water.
I probed my face with my hands to see if any damage had been done
and discovered that it was swollen. I was extremely thirst, my heart
was burning and my throat was bone dry.
'Water. Give me some water, 'I shouted, but my palate was so dry
I was unable to utter even a sound.
I then took the desperate decision to begin licking the water off
the cement floor. It was not as easy as I thought and there was
sand in the water. But it was worth a try and I soon felt mildly
satisfied. I gave up after a while as I also realised that I was
very weak and hungry.
To my horror, the door banged open again. I knew I couldn't survive
this next bout of torture and I wanted to die to avoid the pain
and the suffering. I heard some footsteps but they were faint and
soft. I was hopping the MIS would treat me better this time. I then
heard one of the officers say. 'This guy's in bad shape. He might
die.'
They pulled me up and sat me on a chair and I heard them arranging
to change my clothes. I took the opportunity to ask for some water
and they gave me a half-filled cup. I drank thewater in a single
gulp, felt relieved and regained some of my strength. I asked for
some more water but they refused. A while later, they placed the
hood back over my head.
There was another round questioning. The questions were similar
and my answers became repetitive though always cautious. Some of
my answers wrong and others were outright lies. Very often my interrogators
knew that I was lying, and they would then attempt to ambush me
with clever questions. It waas a very thorough session, and I was
lucky though, as they didn't punish me. Later I realised that there
were two teams of interrogators; one team was tough and gave severe
punishment when necessary, while the other team was gentle and asked
questions without any punishment. It also could have been possible
that it was the same group acting as both teams, but I never found
out if this was the case.
The door banged open again. I immediately anticipated that something
bad would happen to me for I knew that this was the turn of the
tough team of interrogators. My whole body was swollen and I wasn't
sure if I could take another round of torture. And they were surely
going to torture me. I was trembling with fear and I tried to come
up with something that would get me out of the physical abuse. Then
an idea came to me. It was a change of tactics and I didn't know
if it would work.
'Give me a ballpoint pen and a sheet of paper,' I said to them before
they did anything ot me. 'I'll write my confession for you.'
They were completely taken aback. They were supposed to be the tough
team, sent in to beat me up. I was hopping my offer would now stop
them torturing me.
'You're dead meat if you lie to us,' they warned me. They then back
off my handcuffs.
'Take off the hood when we order you to,'they said, 'and put it
back on when you hear the door open.
They left the room and I waited for the order to take off the hood.
After the order was given I removed the hood and for an instan I
couldn't see anything. I was momentarily blinded and I blinked a
number of times to familiarise myself with the surroundings. I finally
saw a ballpoint pen and a stack of papers on the table. I wrote
the account of the literary club case and for quit some time. I
was free from the torture and pain. I was, however, fighting against
severe thirst and drowsiness.
I heard the door open and I quckly put the hood back on. I was very
worried by how my captors might resond to my'confession.'Then without
warning, an officer kicked me from behind.
'Idiot! You don't know how to feel sorry for yourself!'he shouted.
I was thrown forward onto the bable in fornt of me. MIS officers
then pulled me pu and tied my hands to a rope dangling down from
the ceiling. They let me go and left me hanging by my arms. It felt
as though my arms were almost detached from mybody. I was terrified
and in agony. They hit and slapped me on my face and then punched
me in my chest. It was as though I was their punching bag. My drowsiness
and thirst were long gone and all that I could feel was blow after
blow, each of which brought cries of pain. I then passed in and
out of consciousness and the pain came and went correspondingly.
I then hear the voice of the commander,'Bring that bastard!'
The torture stopped and realised they were bringing someone to meet
me. I prayed to God that it was not someone I knew.
My paryers were not answered and I was shocked when I saw the preson
they had brought to me. He was a stuedent soldier from Regiment
207 assigned to the All Burma Students' Democratic Front (ABSDF)
office in Maesot, on the Thai-Burma Border. He had accompanied me
back into Burma from Maesot. His face was also black and swollen;
he was another tortured soul.
I instantly understood what it meant by bringing him to meet me.
The MIS knew all about our operation and also knew that I had been
lying to them. I sighed beavily and suddenly lost all resistance.
The MIS then then brought me a 38-page document that was my supposed
confession. I wasn't allowed to read the document and was forced
to sign the bottom of each page.
I was then transferred to Special Branch and subsequently charged
with possession of illegal armsl and with having contact with the
ABSDF. The criminal court in Kyauktada Township, Rangoon, sentenced
me to five years imprisonment for both charges, and I served my
sentence at Cell 15, Hall 2 of Insein Special Prison. Needless to
say, I was relieved that the nightmare at the Interrogation Centre
was finally over.
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