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Tortured Voices

Like Water in Their Hands 1

by Naing Kyaw

It was the early hours of March 18, 1990, about three o'clock to be precise. I had just finished reading a book and was ready for bed. However, once in bed I found I couldn't sleep, for I was deep in thought. Then suddenly my thoughts were shattered.
'Bang! Bang! Bang!' Someone was thumping loudly on the front door. I always believed that late night visitors were an ominous sign. I got up and walked to the window, suppressing the urge to shout at them to stop knocking on the door. Peeping out, I saw the familiar face of a local leader of the Law and Order Restoration Council. Behind him were police and soldiers armed to the teeth. I looked around the premises and saw a lot more of them. They had already surrounded the house.
The knocks grew even louder when nobody answered the door. At the same time, the visitors were calling out to see if anyone was in the house. I woke up my friend and whispered to him what was going on. He understood the situation immediately and got up to welcome the intruders.
As soon as the door was opened, about ten soldiers came running into the house. Instantly, soldiers surrounded us pointing their guns in our faces. A plain-clothed officer appeared in front of us and without even uttering a word he started to beat us. Only after he had finished beating us did he ask for our names.
'Squat down!' he ordered us.
We obeyed, and just as I sat down he kicked me in my face. I didn't understand why we were being treated this way. The kicking stopped only when someone intervened.
Now the house was filled with armed personnel. Six of them stood in front of us, their faces determined. The remainder of the group then began to search every corner of the house. I think it lasted more than an hour. Then we were ordered to stand up and a few minutes later, I heard commands being shouted to the soldiers and police to reassemble. By the time we were taken out of the house I was surprised to see the size of the raiding party. There were about 50 of them lining up.
I saw three of the men carrying stacks of documents and photographs out of the house. Then the plain-clothed officer called out to a sergeant, who turned out to be another of the plain-clothed officers. He ordered five soldiers to do something. They brought two back and blue blindfolds that were layers of cloth repeatedly sewn together. The soldiers tied them around our eyes. Then they started spinning us around and I felt dizzy after being spun around a few times. They stopped after we were spun several times. Two men then pulled me towards the waiting vehicle, which I think was a Mazda T-2000 pick-up truck. There were three vehicles including ours.
We got into the truck. As soon as I sat down I felt the barrel of a gun on my temple. 'Don't make a sound,' a voice threatened.
The truck started and drove off, and it sounded like there were two more vehicles behind us. Judging from the noise of the engines, the vehicles must have been military trucks. About 40 minutes later, the truck stopped and we were ordered to get out. We started walking and I was often told to bend down to avoid a beam overhead, or to jump over a ditch. Two soldiers still held me tightly by my hand.
Fifteen minutes later, someone kicked me from behind into a room. 'Don't take off the blindfold,' they ordered. Then I heard the door lock which I took as a sign that they had left the room. A while later I heard four or five people talking near my cell and the door clicked open. They didn't waste time. As soon as they entered the room, one of them ordered, 'Stand up and put up your hands! Bend your knees!'
There were no more orders. I then realized I was being ordered to stand with my hands in the air and my knees bent forward. I must have been in this position for about an hour when I finally fell to the floor from exhaustion. Without saying a word they began to kick me all over my body. I was helpless. I was then told to get up and stand in the same position as before. They eventually stopped the torture only after I dropped to the floor two more times. However, while I had my hands in the air they started asking me questions.
'What's your name?'
'Naing Kyaw.'
'What's your nickname?'
'I don't have one.'
'What about your aliases?'
'I don't have any.'
They went into my personal details, but the questioning was a vicious circle of questions, answers and beatings, for they beat me up at the slightest error or high tone in my voice.
After the questioning the tortures left and I took off the hood. The cell was about six feet by eight feet, and was 12 feet high. The floor, the walls and the ceiling were all cement. There was a small window near the ceiling, about eight inches wide with iron bars, but there was no light coming though. The room was illuminated by a light bulb hanging about five feet above the floor. I think it was 100 volts and I later discovered that it was on all the time. The cell also had a table, a chair and a makeshift bed that was about three feet wide and five-and-a-half feet long. I saw some pieces of writing on the walls that looked like poems. My predecessors used cigarette ash, blood and bits of red brick to write with.
After about ten minutes I heard someone knocking on the door. 'Put the blindfold back on,' a voice ordered, and I obeyed.
The door opened and the questioning resumed in the usual manner. Again I had to stand up, put my arms in the air and bend my knees. The questions were the same as the last session. After about an hour of questions and beatings, the group left. Some 15 minutes later another group arrived and asked more questions while torturing me in the same style. Since I was still blindfolded, I couldn't exactly tell if there was one group or two different groups of MIS officers.
Before the next round of interrogation I deliberately defied the order to blindfold myself when I heard the knocks on the door. The MIS officers hadn't even entered the cell when they started shouting at me.
'You son of a bitch! Put the blindfold back on!' someone ordered.
I was shocked that they knew exactly what I was doing. I tried to figure out how they knew and much later I learned that there was a one-way mirror in the wall through which my interrogators could see everything I did in the cell. I also realised that there was a narrow corridor about two feet wide outside the room and that it was dark at all times which I think made the mirror invisible from inside the cell. I know this because on day a few patches of sunlight enabled me to see an armed soldier walking along the corridor, as if he were guarding the cells.
During the next interrogation I was allowed to sit on a chair. After 15 minutes of questioning, a guard handcuffed me to the chair and one of the officers smacked both of my ears.
'Answer my questions correctly,' he then threatened, 'or you'll feel how painful electric shocks are.' After a few more questions, the officer shouted, 'you don't want to co-operate with us and you've given me stupid answers!
Immediately I felt a cold iron-like object touching my fingers. A moment later I heard the gentle hum of a small motor and an electric wave shot through my whole body. The shock lasted about 30 seconds and my body shook uncontrollably. I felt like my nerves were being stretched and I momentarily fainted.
'How was that?' someone was asking me. 'Was it good? Do your nerves feel relaxed?' He was laughing at me.
I went in and out of consciousness and at the same time felt totally enraged at what they were doing to me.
'This is called an electric shock,' he said still laughing. 'You'll continue to be treated in this way if we don't get the kind of answers we want from you. You should know this is the very first step. You'll slowly be given thins that are even more painful,' he added.
The question continued and so did the electric shocks. I remember I was electrocuted four times during this session. Sometimes I didn't hear the questions clearly and I answered them with whatever came to mind. I was also beaten up on occasion for 'not hearing the questions' properly, or I was slapped across the face for 'lying.' Afterwards, I was delirious because of the shocks. I was also very thirsty and hungry. The hunger, thirst and pain mingled through my mind and I couldn't concentrate.
My torturers then took off the handcuffs and left. When I went to sit down on the bed, I fell down unable to prop myself up. I closed my eyes and lay flat. I tried not to think of anything, and in a few minutes I fell asleep.

About the Author

Naing Kyaw was in his final year at Rangoon University during the political upheaval in 1988. At the time, he was a member of the All Burma Federation of Student Union (ABFSU) and he also became a member of the Democratic Party for New Society (DPNS).
He was arrested in 1990 under Section 5(j) of the 1950 Emergency Provision Act and was sentenced to three years imprisonment. Following his arrest, Naing Kyaw was interrogated by Military Intelligence officers from Unit 7, based in Rangoon.
In 1991, he was transferred from Insein Prison to Thayet Prison, north of Rangoon, and released in 1992. Naing Kyaw participated in the December 1996 student demonstrations in Rangoon, and soon after fled the country. He now lives in exile.