A CURIOUS TAKE ON BURMA AND DEMOCRACY
March 17th 2007 22:25
REFLECTIONS ON DEMOCRACY AND BURMA (MYANMAR)
‘What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans, and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty and democracy?’
—Mahatma Gandhi
Dusk is settling in at the Zawgyi café and I notice that the power is out, yet again. The erratic power supply throughout Yangon is a constant source of frustration for foreigners. The electricity fails regularly, sometimes for days on end. When news came through of the power failure that crippled New York, people in Yangon wondered what the fuss was all about.
‘But they were only without power for a day,’ was the rejoinder by locals at that time.
A young Myanmar, Maung Zaw, joins our table of limited knowledge as our conversation moves onto the topic of smoking.
George has just returned from Australia and reports on the politically correct mania, as he sees it, of the all-encompassing anti-smoking laws introduced across the length and the breadth of the homeland. It’s a stark comparison to here in Myanmar, where smokers rule, as evidenced by the comfort on offer at the smokers lounge at the Yangon airport.
The airport itself is half an acre of inhospitable hard-plastic seating and dirty grimy floors with no air conditioning. But the smokers lounge is an air-conditioned comfort station, decked out in soft royal-blue lounges, with carpet, television and cold water urns. The only drawback is that it’s usually crammed full of smokers creating a dense fug of cigarette smoke.
Maung Zaw listens to our conversation intently. He leans forward and says, ‘I have heard this, that when we become a democracy we will be told when and where we can smoke?’
‘That’s the size of it, Maung Zaw.’‘That’s roughly it, Maung Zaw.’
‘But how is this decided?’ he asks. ‘Who determines which group must have their freedom curtailed. Do they vote on the issue?’
‘No, Maung Zaw, the government decides it for the good of the people.’
‘Ah, yes,’ murmurs Maung Zaw, ‘I suppose this is something we will have to get used to if we get democracy. We will have lots of little rules that we must obey. I think it will be quite foreign to us.’
It’s Sunday, to me a day of reflection and on that basis, I’ve posted this little extract from my recent book about my life in Yangon (Rangoon) where I trained local journalists for the Myanmar Times newspaper. The book is written under my newspaper-byline name of Peter Olszewski. Yes, I’m a man of many names.
This is how one critic reviewed the book which is still available (shameless plug):
LAND OF A THOUSAND EYES
By Peter Olszewski
Allen & Unwin, 253pp, $24.95
By Bruce Elder
Sydney Morning Herald
Mass media creates a kind of blind orthodoxy by perpetuating images and perceptions of countries that must be flawed simply because no people can be reduced to two or three images. To most, Myanmar is rarely more than shadowy military types, drug running and a Nobel laureate under house arrest.
Peter Olszewski washed up in Myanmar as a writer and teacher. He was, refreshingly, little interested in the politics and very much interested in the people. This is Myanmar without the military. It is a delicate, careful and thoughtful account of daily life - both for expatriates and the locals they fraternise with.
Although Olszewski had a reputation as an Australian gonzo journalist (he was tour manager for Hunter S. Thompson), this well-written book is untouched by that hyperactive style. It paints a portrait of a poor, beautiful country where life is still enjoyed
‘What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans, and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty and democracy?’
—Mahatma Gandhi
Dusk is settling in at the Zawgyi café and I notice that the power is out, yet again. The erratic power supply throughout Yangon is a constant source of frustration for foreigners. The electricity fails regularly, sometimes for days on end. When news came through of the power failure that crippled New York, people in Yangon wondered what the fuss was all about.
A young Myanmar, Maung Zaw, joins our table of limited knowledge as our conversation moves onto the topic of smoking.
George has just returned from Australia and reports on the politically correct mania, as he sees it, of the all-encompassing anti-smoking laws introduced across the length and the breadth of the homeland. It’s a stark comparison to here in Myanmar, where smokers rule, as evidenced by the comfort on offer at the smokers lounge at the Yangon airport.
The airport itself is half an acre of inhospitable hard-plastic seating and dirty grimy floors with no air conditioning. But the smokers lounge is an air-conditioned comfort station, decked out in soft royal-blue lounges, with carpet, television and cold water urns. The only drawback is that it’s usually crammed full of smokers creating a dense fug of cigarette smoke.
Maung Zaw listens to our conversation intently. He leans forward and says, ‘I have heard this, that when we become a democracy we will be told when and where we can smoke?’
‘But how is this decided?’ he asks. ‘Who determines which group must have their freedom curtailed. Do they vote on the issue?’
‘No, Maung Zaw, the government decides it for the good of the people.’
‘Ah, yes,’ murmurs Maung Zaw, ‘I suppose this is something we will have to get used to if we get democracy. We will have lots of little rules that we must obey. I think it will be quite foreign to us.’
It’s Sunday, to me a day of reflection and on that basis, I’ve posted this little extract from my recent book about my life in Yangon (Rangoon) where I trained local journalists for the Myanmar Times newspaper. The book is written under my newspaper-byline name of Peter Olszewski. Yes, I’m a man of many names.
This is how one critic reviewed the book which is still available (shameless plug):
LAND OF A THOUSAND EYES
By Peter Olszewski
Allen & Unwin, 253pp, $24.95
By Bruce Elder
Sydney Morning Herald
Mass media creates a kind of blind orthodoxy by perpetuating images and perceptions of countries that must be flawed simply because no people can be reduced to two or three images. To most, Myanmar is rarely more than shadowy military types, drug running and a Nobel laureate under house arrest.
Peter Olszewski washed up in Myanmar as a writer and teacher. He was, refreshingly, little interested in the politics and very much interested in the people. This is Myanmar without the military. It is a delicate, careful and thoughtful account of daily life - both for expatriates and the locals they fraternise with.
Although Olszewski had a reputation as an Australian gonzo journalist (he was tour manager for Hunter S. Thompson), this well-written book is untouched by that hyperactive style. It paints a portrait of a poor, beautiful country where life is still enjoyed
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