News of the Monk’s protests in Burma
had the Learning Center a buzz. Everyone was excited,
paper clippings lined the wall along the outside of one of the classrooms, and
regime change was the only topic up for discussion at the lunch table (well
other than what we were eating, that no matter what the political climate, is
always up for discussion). Every time I saw someone for the first time that
day, I was asked if I had heard the latest news. Their positive energy was in
the air, and one couldn’t help but get swept up in the idea that change in Burma was
tangible.
Everyone I asked at the center said that if the political
situation were to change in Burma,
they wouldn’t hesitate to return, even those who have lived in Thailand for
more than fifteen years. They have visions of a new Burma, and for once there were
signs that things were moving forward. The most revered group of people in Burma
was standing up, and the people would support them. We saw pictures of streets
filled with Monks in Saffron robes, a sea of red surrounded by a small line of
white on either side. The people of Burma where physically putting
themselves between the Monks and any harm that might come there way.
Despite all of this optimism that I was surrounded by, I had
my doubts. What would stop the government from using force to suppress the
protests, as they had before? What would happen once the government did begin
to use force? These questions and more filled my mind, but I didn’t ask them. I
was too scared that verbalizing the ideas gave them more power than they
deserved.
And then things changed, and not for the better. The
government raided the monasteries, people were arrested, and there was evidence
of more violence than the government was admitting to. The bulletin boards
where no longer updated with the most recent pictures, but the gruesome stories
circulated, and the paper was readily available for all to look at.
Instead of old movies or music videos on the TV, we watched
the news with intensity. The minute Burma was mentioned, a tense hush
fell over the room. My students were straining to understand every English word
being used.
Friday, I had very little students come to class. I was
slightly dismayed, but went on with the lesson as planned. We were reviewing
the use of too and enough (there is too much pollution; there aren’t enough
trees, etc). Not the most uplifting of lessons to begin with.
After class we resumed our vigil around the TV, and within
minutes we were watching horrific scenes from the streets of Burma. I could
tell those who were looking for loved ones among the crowd, knowing all to well
what it is like to scan news clips for a glimpse.
After the story was over, everyone continued to watch
through stories of Egypt, Iraq and Palestine.
At a commercial break one of my students turned to me and said, “Teacher, there
are too many problems in the world”. What a way for you to see your students
use the language you just taught them. Needless to say, I didn’t have a reply
for him.
Interacting with the students and staff at the learning
center had made this uprising in Burma all too real for me. I
definitely still feel on the outside looking in, and completely helpless. I
watch while my friends and collogues are living the protests.
There were teachers from Burma here for the past month for
training. Their visas were up, and the lunch before they left was a solemn one.
The general consensus was that it wasn’t a good time for them to go back. A few
ended up staying as they live right in the area of the protests in Rangoon. It was sad to say
goodbye to these people whom I have shared many meals with, knowing the future
was so uncertain for them.
As I was leaving the center, I asked someone who works there
if he thought the protesting would continue despite the government’s violent
actions. His faced relaxed, his eyes focusing on a point in the distance, while
he truly considered the question for a full minute before responding. “I think
so, I think people will continue to protest. What they did to the monks was
wrong and the people respect the monks very much. I think the protests will
continue, and there will be change.” I was floored. While holding a paper with
pictures from inside a raided monastery on the front page, he still believed
there was hope. I clung to that thought as I left, and wished that I too I
could believe.
Today, I went to a trilingual rally at the Three Kings
Monument here in Chiang
Mai. There was a Muslim, Buddhist, and Christian prayer. After the prayers
there were two performance art pieces, followed by some music. We had recent
news updates at various times. There was also a slide show of pictures from
inside Burma,
along with peace protests from around the world.
I saw many of my Learning
Center students there,
who apologized for missing classes this week. They had been helping to organize
the activities for the past two days. I was amazed at how at a moment like
that, they felt the need to apologize for missing class. I told them some
things were more important, and I would be at the Learning Center
for many months to come.
The evening was ended with lighting candles, a short speech
about hope, and a moment of silence. The speech really struck me. For the past
two weeks I have carried around this pessimism about the situation, seeing no
real hope for the democracy movement in Burma to bring about change.
However, here they were saying we needed to get rid of the hatred and the fear.
Instead we needed to let hope, courage and wisdom in. Sending those positive
thoughts to the people in Burma,
because it was going to be a long struggle and the people of Burma needed
those empowering thoughts.
I lit my candle and turned to the people standing behind me
to let them light their candles off mine. Instead of a simple thank you, one of
the men said, “Peace be with you…… Thank you for coming here and supporting our
cause”. I had felt like somewhat of a voyeur up until then, and I found the
simple statement completely unexpected.
It was then I realized that I refused to do what many others
have done. I didn’t turn my back, I wasn’t ignoring the suffering of their
people. I was willing to stand (and in many cases kneel) next to them and say
to the world, this is unacceptable. This was one time where there needed to be
more voyeurs, more people watching what was going on.
I know that many people have lost their lives in the fight
for freedom in Burma.
It has been a long and arduous struggle, one that will only get harder before
it gets easier. I know that those protests through out the country and the
world are not about me. But tonight I did get something out of it. I got a
sense of peace that I had been missing up until then.
As I left the rally, I passed by the men who cook the lunch
at the center everyday. They smiled broadly while waving at me. “Hello!” After
the initial greetings, one of them, who normally is very shy to speak around
me, thanked me for coming and supporting them. It is amazing what a small
gesture can do…..for all those involved.
