Before the Battle Began

Today I did an interview at Radio Free Asia which secretly broadcasts news inside Burma. From what I've heard, about a third of the nation listens to these broadcasts, often with many people huddled around an old broken radio. My friend Zaw Kyaw interviewed me about the Global Day of Action on 8.8.08 - and this might be one of the favorite parts of my job - directly speaking to the people of Burma that they are not alone, that there are many people fighting for their freedom.

I'm helping this same friend prepare for the TOEFL exam, and he gave me this story he wrote about his hometown in Burma so that I can help him with his grammar. The story is incredibly beautiful I find, and it's even more heart-wrenching because I contrast the peace in the story with knowing that after this he participated in the 1988 revolution, that he fought in the jungle for 13 years as a member of the guerilla student army, then 5 times being arrested in Thailand and on and on the struggle.

Here are a few portions from his story. I think in his head he was writing a straight out description of the town, but to me its quite poetic, and I guess the memory of the long ago peace that may never be reached again brings out quite the poetic and tragic memory.

"The town started the day with the sound of horse’s step. I always hear from my bed and it was so miserable especially in winter. I was wrapped up in a blanket and I always thought they might be very cold. I knew that it was also dark. The horses brought loaded carts , full with goods and people to the market. Mostly these people were local sellers. There were just a few old American-made cars in town. I didn’t know why these people needed to wake up very early morning and work very hard. Also I did not realize people were poor, including me when I was young.

It rains in May, June and July. During this time, people standing under the shelter or walking or biking in the rain is a normal picture. Children play football in the street under the heavy rain is a habit. Sometimes three four days long rain made water field (rephrase this). The Irrawaddy river comes up into the town in the raining season. Northern and Western part of the town is flooded. Northern people were up set but southerners were happy with rowing boats.

In the winter, people make fires in the yard and sticky rice for breakfast. The snow is not white there. It is violet. It is actually humid. But it is snow for us. It become a water drop and hang at a leave then fall on to the another leave. It become sound of early winter morning. Children wake up in the cold and sit at window then read there lesson with voice and memorized all of their notes. It is also sound of morning.

The market finished at half day and people cook at home and eat with their family. There are Mohinkha, Tofu, and rice salad shops everywhere in the town. They pack the food with a large green leaf from a tree. The warm food was small with a fresh green leaf.
They are still working, walking, eating, sleeping, talking, crying, laughing and the town is still going."