Return to Myanmar: Kachin State

Another trip to Myanmar in April 2014 - this time to the Kachin State... a place high in the foothills of the Himalayas and filled with Christian fundamentalists thanks to British missionaries traveling through colonial India. There were more Baptist churches than Buddhist temples differentiating it as a foreign land from Rakhine State and Yangon with its sparkling golden temples and saffron robed fascist monks. 

Besides the altitude and the religions, Kachin was a less paranoid experience. The smiles and shouts I received from teenage boys on motorcycles felt more like innocent sexual harassment than anti-UN hatred. Even if the tension is less palpable, the conflict is more active and there had been recent conflicts right before I left Yangon. I was unable to make it to the non-governmental controlled areas or to see the flags of China fluttering over the frontier from Laiza.

The international community, which is quite small, is not seen as a threat to the locals as they are in Rakhine and people in general were friendly, curious and open. The people wear very colorful traditional clothing too and the textiles were amazing. Being so close to the border with China also meant there was a very Chinese vibe to the food and the amounts of cheap consumer items available, even in poor Myanmar. The state felt richer than Rakhine State as well.

Shop in market selling Kachin Textiles

Kachin reminded me more of my time in Manipur, India where I went in 2010 with MSF.Manipur suprised me because it was notning like the "India" of my imagination. At one point, Pakistan, Bangladesh, India, and Myanmar were all part of one giant colony for the British and the ethnic groups up in the hills of Northeast India, Myanmar, Thailand, Laos and China all seem quite similar. Like Manipur, there is a big problem with intravenous drug use, particularly heroin in Kachin. It seems ironic that evangelical Christianity and IV drug use characterize parts of India and Myanmar - opiate of the masses, indeed. The Christianity is a legacy of colonialism but the drug use is more recent and tied to the conflicts and the obscene influence of mining in the region.  

The north-east Indian states of Manipur and Nagaland, which lie along the border with Myanmar, have ethnic conflict, armed civil insurgency, a heavy military presence and high unemployment which is exactly the same description as Kachin, a state that has been wracked with ethnic conflict and sits right in the "Golden Triangle" In Myanmar. It's also the site of all the jade and gold mining in Myanmar and sits on a lawless border with China.  Some estimate that up to 70% of male youths are addicted to IV drugs in Kachin.  The jade mines of Hpakant in Burma’s northern  Kachin State have long been notorious for high rates  of HIV and IV drug use. A single shot of heroin costs about 1000 kyat or about a dollar. 

But I didn't see much of that when I was there. The weather was a lot cooler than Bangkok or Kachin so I spent my time cycling to the office and training Kachin women on gender-based violence. I adore being a trainer and I always get energy from meeting with women and men working on gender-based violence and trying to instill in them the skills to help the survivors. The Kachin women are so serious and earnest. We laughed a lot and played games but they never stopped trying to learn and they always wanted more. 

Good Counseling!

Importance of Eye Contact or Intimidating stare?

Bad Counseling

Trying out counseling for themselves.

Survivor-Centred Skills

Practicing

The Trainees

I went to the "Confluence" - the place where two rivers meet to form the Irrawaddy. Its going to be a site of a huge dam (a second "three gorges")  that will mostly serve China and Thailand's energy needs. The dam's reservoir will submerge important historical and cultural sites at the Mali and N'mai Hka rivers, as well as what is widely recognized as the birthplace of Burma. The areas is also seen as one of the world's top biodiversity hotspots and a global conservation priority: its a reserve for tigers and the river has an endangered dolphin species that lives in it. Groups within Burma oppose the dam not only because of its environmental impacts, displacement, and threats to cultural sites. But its also near a major earthquake fault line.  If the Myitsone Dam were to break during an earthquake, it would endanger the lives of hundred of thousands of people by flooding Myikyina.

There are some seriously sad photos of how much the gold mining and jade mining have ruined this lovely spot. It's a flashpoint for the conflicts here and the dam has been delayed, but for how long? After a relaxed day there eating grilled fish and picking up some interesting rocks, we returned to Myitkyina to discover that there had been a kidnapping there the same day we were there. The "troubles" in Myanmar are all around but only if you keep your eyes open - no wonder its becoming a popular tourist destination - but as we drove home, we saw a military patrol complete with rocket-propelled grenade launcher going through a local village. Although the women I trained didn't like to talk about it, the Burmese soldiers have been known to rape Kachin women and sexual violence is a big part of the conflict here.  

Me at the Confluence

The town of Myitkyina is very cute and not very big. Bigger than Sittwe in Rakhine but with some small interesting roads to cycle down and on the Irrawaddy river. There's a nice little market and the food is mostly vegetables and lots of fruits. It was mango season when I was there. The food was pretty tasty - much less greasy than the Burmese curries that I detest but I still was able to get my fill of fermented tea leave salads (lapet thoke), shan noodles (Shan Kauwk Swe), and Burmese fish and noodle soup - a form of Burmese Catfish chowder (mohingya). My friend Marise has set up a good life in Myitkyina and loaned me a bike and had me over for happy hour so it was the perfect balance of work, social life, and fun!

Honeysuckle

Road near the office

Training center in the Himalaya foot hills

Harvesting Guavas

Participants at the training

Lychee sellers at the market.

We culminated one long evening of wine drinking and discussion by singing Karaoke with new Kachin friends in a private karoake bar. I sang a heartfelt duet to Endless Love and received some polite applause before cycling home to my sparse little hotel.

I spent one day visiting the Women and Girls Centers that we have set up in Kachin to help empower women there. They are also a place where GBV survivors can receive support and counseling and referrals for services. I was providing some coaching and support to the center managers and met many of the women who were there for activities those days. Its the very beginning of the program but I feel proud to be involved in it and hope that my training helped in some small way to make things better.

Laughing at the WGC in Wai Maung

Feeling like a movie star in Myitkyina WGC

WGC provide day care too

Hungry WGC workers at the training

Unlike the dramatic events around the census and the attacks on aid workers that I experienced in March 2014 in Rakhine, I had an uneventful and fulfilling trip to Kachin. While I struggle from time to time with my decision to be a consultant and I feel so tired from traveling and airplanes and contracts and working from home, I love being in new places in this fascinating world of ours. I adore meeting and connecting with people from different countries. I'll always remember certain images that you can't capture with an iPhone: 

• the kind and lovely case worker from the Wai Maung center who always brought me lunch during the trainings - her kind and calm face made me wish she was my therapist. 
• Singing "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands" in one of the women's centers in Myanmar, Jingpho, Japanese, and English. 
• playing "obstacle course" with the participants, teaching them to trust each other as we wandered around the church to the amusement of the local contruction workers. 
• watching an enormous beetle that looked like a prehistoric creature wander towards my brand new computer and freaking out until my male coworker got rid of it for me and then having to endure his jokes about my gender discrimination the whole trip
• cycling home at 11pm on a completely empty street with a mild buzz from Myanmar beer and the wind in my hair and a million stars in the sky.
• listening to the sound of the whistle from the train to Mandalay and imagining myself in the footsteps of George Orwell and climbing aboard to go backwards in time.

Myanmar (or Burma) is a special land. The people are amazing and beautiful and its fascinating and heartbreaking to see what the neglect and political corruption has done to this land. Trips like this remind me to be grateful for having the opportunities I have in my life and inspire me to see more and more and more. 

Monsoon Living in the footsteps of George Orwell

Aerial view of Rakhine State.

I am sitting in rainy monsoon struck Myanmar (i.e. Burma but we’re not allowed to say that because that’s politically not supporting the current regime) in Rakhine State (formerly known as Arakan State) where I’m working with the Muslim population of internally displaced people (or as they call themselves, the Rohingya – but we’re not allowed to call them that because that acknowledges that they are an ethnic group that belongs to Myanmar and not a bunch of illegal immigrants from Bangladesh as the government calls them).

Sittwe Town from my hotel

Sittwe is a beautiful little village. Just what you imagine a rural decrepit town in Myanmar/Burma might look like. Old colonial houses dripping with dark patches of damp, overgrown and lush green gardens, gorgeous mango trees and coconut palms and people walking by in their lungis with things balanced on their heads and carrying umbrellas to shelter them from the rain and the sun. There is a golden stupa in the middle of town with a giant golden standing Buddha next to it peeking out over the top of the tree canopy and gazing at the Bay of Bengal.  The sense of neglect is visible in all the buildings, the few newer ones are garish and cheap looking with that weird reflecting tinted windows that seems so common in the Middle East and China. There aren’t many cars here. People can travel around town on bicycle-driven rickshaws  where they can sit two very very thin people – not Americans- , one facing each way and the bicyclist wearing a conical bamboo hat, cycles alongside you. Or there are lovely Burmese ladies perched on the back of bicycles always carrying an umbrella to shade themselves from the sun or rain. Or you can ride in a “tuktuk”. These are different than the ones in Bangkok - more of a sort of truck bed with two benches in it and a canvas streteched over the top driven by a motorcycle or a tractor . There are a few scooters and the cars that are here are old jeeps or Landrovers from the NGOs. Men wear button down shirts, flip flops, and lungis – the patterned long piece of material that they wrap around their waist and constantly have to adjust. Many women wear traditional dress and put this pale yellow clay on their faces to protect it from the sun and wear flowers in their hair. There are police and military officers as checkpoints all over the city. The sense of a military dictatorship is still very prevalent as we all have to wait on travel authorizations and permits to leave the town.

Riding to work in the rain

I am supposed to call this country Myanmar (its official name) but I like saying Burma better and most of the human rights activists still call it Burma because that was its name before the military coup and dictatorship here. I spent a week in Yangon – the capitol (formerly known as Rangoon). Yangon is lovely – very green and lush and I’m lucky to have been able to sublet a beautiful old house with a garden. I posted some photos on facebook of the orchids in the garden. I’ve also been reading George Orwell’s Burmese Days from when he was a
colonial policeman here and Finding George Orwell in Burma which retraces his footsteps and analyzes Burma during the height of the military regime (before the recent “reforms”). “Everyone falls in love with Burma except George Orwell” claims the author and I think she might be right. Yangon is a beautiful city and as far away from the skyscrapers and malls and convenience of Bangkok as it can possibly be - definitely more my style than Bangkok. Maybe I’ll get a job here and settle down for a bit which is what I would like.  However, people are
still quite terrified of the authoritarian regime, no matter what the “reforms” say so it’s an odd feeling to be part of the lucky who are benefiting from the opening of Burma and not really aware of the realities of the regular Burmese. And although I love colonial architecture, thinking about the abuses that took place here under colonialism puts a damper on tea or gin and tonics at the Strand.

Rohingya man in IDP camp

In Sittwe where the humanitarian crisis is  - it definitely feels like the place that time forgot. Time moves slowly here and I’ve had to detox (which is a good thing for me!) - I’ve maybe had internet access for 6 hours of the week since I’ve been here and I was issued a mobile phone that works very poorly so I feel very cut off from the world.
Poor little UNFPA, the UN agency that has hired me as a consultant, is relegated to an old storage facility in the basement of a building. The room reeks of mildew and has no ventilation as its two windows open onto the latrine and a garage where they park cars. I am outraged on behalf of my national counterpart – a young Myanmar doctor who is pregnant with her first child. She’s energetic and smart and working really hard with almost no support.  I’ve started squatting upstairs in the UNDP office and spending as much time on the balcony as
possible to breathe in the fresh air when it is not raining and using the time when I have the internet to lobby for a cleaning woman, a dehumidifier, and better office space. We don’t have our own car either so I travel by “tuktuk” to my meetings –it’s a far cry from most of the NGOs which have normal offices and houses and cars here. I
don’t mind the hardship of crappy offices. I’ve worked in tents, in mud huts, and in skyscrapers. A desk is a desk after all  - but the crappy office is a bit of a symbol of how little attention and care is given to the needs of the women who are displaced here in Rakhine State, in my mind. Of all the UN agencies in emergencies, UNFPA is one of the smallest. It doesn’t receive much money from the donors and its’ staff don’t seem to know how to respond to humanitarian emergencies – there is NO urgency. The staff in Yangon don’t prioritize the hinterlands and every request for something is challenged or ignored. Ahhh – life in the field. It’s frustrating being a consultant because I have no power at all but I’m going to use my voice to lobby for a healthier work place for my colleague. After all, I leave in 2 months but she has to work here.

UNFPA office - behind garage

If you haven’t read about it, here’s a brief synopsis: the humanitarian crisis here is a symptom of ethnic and religious violence in Burma – the majority Buddhist population here has been fighting with the Muslim community and burned down their houses and villages in October of 2012 driving them to live in scattered and remote IDP
(internally displaced) camps on rice paddies throughout this area. Most of the Moslems make their living as farmers or fishermen and as you might imagine, living in a rice paddy during the monsoon season is
miserable. I visited one of the best organized camps on Friday and it was very depressing. Because of the rains and the humidity, nothing remains or stays dry, most people only have one set of clothing and the children run around in the mud and rain with nothing but a small pair of shorts on. People have to live 10 to 12 families in a long bamboo thatched hut and most are not free to leave their camps so despair has set in along with the accompanying domestic violence and child beating. That’s why I’m here – to try to support the humanitarian community with training and advice on how to provide services for these women and children.

Rohingya girl

Many of the people are just waiting for the rains to stop so they can try to board really unsafe ships and seek out work in Malaysia, Bangladesh, and next door Thailand (where an immigration official was recently arrested for trafficking them to work on fishing boats as slave labor). They are known as the “Rohingya” and are a separate
ethnic group from the “Rakhines” in this area although they have been here for over 400 years. The Burmese government calls them “Bengalis” and claims they are Bangladeshi citizens and threaten to return them there although most have never been there and have no ties there. They are basically stateless (not recognized as an official ethnic group in Burma and therefor have no citizenship and belong to no government), persecuted by the governments of neighboring countries as well as the government here and are unwanted by everyone. It’s a really tough situation with no real solution at hand.

Rohingya boys in IDP camps

However, it’s a great group of people working here. The humanitarian world is really small – I got here and word got around and an Italian colleague from MSF who I met in Colombia in 2009 reached out to me and invited me to dinner last Friday night which was nice as there’s not much else to do in Sittwe. There is a movie theatre here but I think it only shows local films and is un-airconditioned (in this humidity and heat –it would be like sitting in a steam room with 100 people and watching a movie). There are a few local restaurants and tea houses but since its raining like mad, I’ve basically been holed up this weekend in my hotel room watching the BBC World coverage of the unrest in Cairo and Battlestar Galactica on my computer and reading training manuals and reports. I’ve caught up on any sleep I was missing in Thailand which is nice but I miss Simon, the Siamese cat and a variety of food. They have interesting salads here – and I am fond of a seaweed salad with sesame seeds and chilis that they make here. But mostly they use half a bottle of cooking oil to make anything here and
the food is swimming in oil and not very flavorful although seafood is plentiful since we’re on the sea so I eat squid and shrimp every day. I have been dreaming of spaghetti Bolognese and chocolate bars. But actually I’d be happy to have a big green salad.

IDP camp of Rakhine Buddhists also displaced during fighting

Well that’s it from here -  not much news to report. One year down as an independent consultant and the future is still unclear. I’ve got another 6 weeks work in Burma and then I’m back to Thailand where I’m presenting a paper and chairing a panel at an international conference on sexual violence. Then it’s back to Papua New Guinea for another month’s worth of work and then I’m free! I’m not enamored with the life as a consultant. The supposed “freedom” is not there yet as I still feel like I have to hustle for work and can’t turn anything down but I prefer being busy to not having enough to do. I think that makes me go a bit crazy. I still think I’d like to find an interesting
permanent job and settle down and stop traveling so much in 2014. I’ve been thinking of going back to graduate school – maybe in public health or social work but I’d also just like to have a steady job in a nice organization with a decent office and a nice house so I can hang out with Simon LeBon and have a normal life again. What’s that like? It’s been fun running around Asia but I’m a bit tired of always being on the move and fantasize about taking classes and setting up a routine and getting bored and longing for travel. It’s a vicious cycle, I guess!

Work Commute