"No One is Safe in Myanmar"
The following submission comes from Aiden Rivers, a pseudonym for someone in Yangon who is not able to reveal his identity due to safety reasons.
“He was a rebellious person, and he said being shot at was daring, and at the very beginning when the shooting started, it seemed like a game to him and his friend. Until it wasn’t.”
Last week, two young guys spoke to me about their experience protesting the 2021 coup in Myanmar. They became good friends based on that shared experience. Although both of them are from wealthy families and agree that their lives will be ok no matter what government is in power; the coup, the loss of freedoms, and the idea of moving Myanmar back in time politically and socially were too much for both of them to accept. So they manned the barricades… literally! They actually even helped construct the barricades along with many other protesters.
The day before the military began shooting protesters, these two young men were on the front line in San Chaung, the site of some of the most murderous crackdowns on protesters in Yangon. Even though they never met as protesters, disguised by bandanas, masks, helmets, and black shirts, now that they’ve met, they feel like brothers!
One of the students calls himself Hubert. He was arrested the day before the shooting began and transported to Insein Prison with a truckload of other captured young men and women. He said they sang protest songs as they were driven to prison. He described himself as being scared, though he hid it from everyone, who, he said, probably felt the same way.
Once inside the prison, Hubert was herded into a cell barely large enough to hold the fifty prisoners shoved in there. There were two dirty toilets, and the smell was horrific. In all his privileged life, he had never had to relieve himself in front of other people. After stopping himself for hours from using the toilet, he felt ashamed when he could wait no more, and once he finished, jokes were made about him and his rich odor; Hubert said he laughed aloud with his comrades. It is an unusual confession, but he says the prison experience changed him, that he’s felt more like an ordinary person than one from a secluded lifestyle only the wealthy can afford.
When I asked him, he could not explain his impulse to protest. He said he’s always cared about the poor because of his faith in Buddhism. And he believed life was unusually harsh for the poor in Myanmar compared to other countries he had visited with his family. He knew he was fortunate, and he wished to lead a productive life by learning environmental technology and how to ease the hardships that poor people face, such as poor sanitation and inadequate drinking water.
The other student used an English name, John. While also from a wealthy family, he was not as privileged as Hubert. He didn’t drive a car and he ate in common teashops. By his appearance and demeanor, he was a typically educated young man who could fit into any social situation. He started protesting with his best and lifelong friend. On the day the shooting started, he was on the frontline, peeking over the barricade at the soldiers firing. He said bullets whipped by his head, and that his first time hearing the incredible sounds of the shots, and the bullets hitting the barricade, electrified him.
John admits now that his response to being shot at was either uncommonly stupid or brave, yet for me hearing his story, it was understandable. He was a rebellious person, and he said staying there while being shot at felt very daring. At first, it seemed like a game to him and his friend. Until it wasn’t! They played sort of hide and seek with the shooters; then he turned his head for one instant, only to see the violent damage of a bullet ripping part of his friend’s neck away. He immediately bent down and grabbed his friend’s arms, draped them over his neck, and carried him away from the front line. He said he didn’t think, he just reacted.
John got his friend into a car and raced to his friend’s home. When he arrived, his friend’s parents wailed as they tried to revive their son. They couldn’t even see where the boy was shot since there was so much blood, and John was covered in blood, too. His friend’s mother slapped him repeatedly because both boys promised her they would not protest. John cried, and he and his friend’s father took the shot boy to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead. They were both eighteen years old.
John’s ordeal wasn’t over. He was followed, harassed, and threatened by police for weeks. But, John explained, he was finished protesting. He said if he’d gone one more time; he was sure he’d be arrested or killed. Although John has stopped his political activity, he said he still isn’t safe, adding his belief that no one is safe in Myanmar.