Episode #311: Where the Streets Have No Name
“Walking allows you to make these connections that make the world seem like home, no matter where you are. And I think that's a gift of the walk.”
An American journalist and writer, Paul Salopek is celebrated for his exceptional reporting, which has earned him two Pulitzer Prizes. Over his career, Paul has reported from over 50 countries, contributing to leading publications such as National Geographic and the Chicago Tribune. The focus of today’s episode is a still-continuing journey he began in 2013. Called the “Out of Eden Walk,” it is an unparalleled exploration of human history that traces the migration paths of early Homo sapiens and shows their connection to modern, human experience through immersive storytelling.
Starting from the Rift Valley of Ethiopia, Paul’s route will eventually span Africa, the Middle East, Central and South Asia, through China, across North America, and down to Tierra del Fuego. His focus in this project is exploring the enduring, human reality of “migration.” However, Paul distinguishes his understanding of “migration” from its usual meaning by calling it a process of “dispersal.” By this he means that early humans did not move from point A to point B with a destination in mind; instead, they traveled into unknown lands, driven by survival needs and environmental conditions.
Paul’s walk does not seek to replicate the physical challenges faced by our ancient ancestors. Rather, his goal is to try to experience the rhythms of time and space they once navigated. His meticulous approach contrasts sharply with the fleeting pace of modern journalism, where reporters often contend with the relentless demands of the 24-hour news cycle. He describes the project as a testament to the power of slowing down, of bearing witness, and of connecting deeply with people and places. He views his experience as a reminder of the fragility and impermanence of human constructs, from cities to political systems. As he walks, Paul documents the stories of those he meets, weaving a tapestry of humanity that transcends time and place.
Paul speaks about the transformative power of walking, which fosters an attentiveness that unveils the experiential, emotional and behavioral commonalities of humanity across cultural, ideological, and geographical differences. “Humans are humans,” Paul says simply. Whether engaging with a yak herder in Afghanistan or a relative in California, he finds striking parallels in behavior, desires, and vulnerabilities.
Yet, the walk also illuminates the vastness of the world. Landmarks may take days to reach; time stretches, and the vast expanse of human history becomes palpable. This allows ample time for internal exploration well. “[The walk] cultivates a priority list about what's important, right? And for me that's human relationships above all else, and not so much the physical world that's around me,” he reflects. He has noticed that walking dovetails with increased creativity, an insight shared with wandering bards, Sufi mystics, and ancient pilgrims throughout history.
Paul also reflects on humanity's nomadic past, noting that a sedentary lifestyle is a fairly recent development on our species’ timeline. For 99.5% of human history, he says, people were nomadic, moving through landscapes in search of sustenance and survival. This deep connection to movement remains embedded in our DNA, Paul believes, serving as an adaptive mechanism in times of turbulence.
His Out of Eden Walk landed Paul in Myanmar in early 2020, when he crossed from northeastern India, traversing jungle mountains and crossing the Irrawaddy River. His route eventually took him into the heart of the country, accompanied by ethnic Chin and Lisu walking partners. Initially focused on cultural and historical storytelling, Paul found himself unprepared for the upheaval that would soon unfold.
First, the COVID-19 pandemic caused an unexpected halt to his journey. When borders closed, Paul had to pause his journey in Mandalay; later, he stayed with his Lisu walking partner in a rural village, which enabled him to immersing himself in the rhythms of daily life there. He assisted local farmers with planting rice and documented cultural aspects of his surroundings, while adapting to the slower pace of life. The relative quiet and peacefulness of his time in the village contrasted sharply with the uncertainty brought by the pandemic and offered him a chance to deepen his connection with the land and its people. Living in a remote area also meant navigating the challenges of limited communications and resources. Paul observed the resilience and resourcefulness of the villagers as they managed their lives amid lockdowns and health concerns.
He moved on to Yangon in early 2021 to extend his visa and plan the next phase of his journey. His arrival coincided with the early days of the coup, yet he was not aware of the full extent of the situation because he was quarantined in a Yangon hotel, as the pandemic was still raging. But when the internet was shut down on the morning of February 1st, and he started hearing the turmoil in the streets, Paul knew something was up, and instinctively slipped into survival mode—filling his bathtub with water to prepare for potential utility shutdowns, and rationing small amounts of leftover food. The hotel staff, left to manage without guidance from health authorities who were now leading strikes to protest against the military takeover, wrote out quarantine release notes on their own for the guests by hand, a stark reminder of the administrative breakdown enveloping the nation.
Paul recalls that period as one of fragile hope and, due to the demographic of many of the protestors, youthful innocence. Delivery drivers, students, and workers united in an extraordinary show of solidarity, marching side by side and demonstrating a collective sense of responsibility. Protesters not only voiced their dissent but cleaned up after demonstrations and provided food and water to sustain protestors. This communal spirit, however, was buttressed by a naive faith that international powers might intervene on their behalf. Having spent decades reporting in conflict zones, Paul recognized the grim reality that such hopes were likely misplaced. “Nobody’s coming to save you,” he thought, acknowledging the indifference of global powers to their plight.
As the junta’s violent crackdown escalated, the mood on the streets transformed from hopeful defiance to a desperate and uneven struggle for survival. Paul witnessed the harsh escalation of violence: police abducting organizers in broad daylight, live rounds echoing through neighborhoods, and the once euphoric protests dissolving into scenes of chaos and despair.
Peaceful protests gave way to a makeshift resistance as young people, once armed only with signs and chants, began crafting weapons in their living rooms. Students and digital creatives, surrounded by laptops and Coke cans, improvised bows and arrows, while household items like cooking pots and bicycle tires became tools of defense. Protesters wielding trash-can lids for shields faced down a regime unhesitating in its use of lethal force, a vivid representation of the tragic disparity in power that highlighted both their vulnerability and extraordinary courage. These acts of ingenuity and defiance underscored the profound resourcefulness of the resistance, using whatever was at hand despite the immense risks. Amid the chaos, they embodied the unyielding spirit of a population determined to fight for its future against overwhelming odds.
Paul’s experiences during that period illustrates the limitations of international media in capturing the breadth and urgency of certain crises. He describes Myanmar as “kind of an orphan,” highlighting the lack of a strong international patron and the absence of easily exportable vital resources. While China does have economic interests in northern Myanmar, they were not critical enough to cause them to intervene in the country’s political chaos. Paul further contextualizes the crisis as a reflection of Myanmar's complex history, including colonialism and military control, which complicates the narrative for global media. Drawing a bleak parallel to underreported conflicts in Africa, such as the Congo Civil War, he emphasizes how both have been marginalized because they are not that geopolitically relevant for major powers, and lack compelling interest for international audiences.
Paul expands his critique of global media, describing how their neglect of Myanmar reflects broader inequalities in their news priorities. He notes that the compelling, heart-wrenching stories of resistance and survival—from improvised weapons to underground networks distributing food and information—rarely reaches international audiences. For Paul, the consequence of the media’s failure is the effective silencing of the voices of those suffering and reinforces their isolation, making their struggle even more challenging, leaving them to face their plight without the solidarity or intervention of the international community. That said, he also highlights the resilience of local reporters who, despite operating under tremendous danger, have continued to document the resistance. And again, Paul praises the bravery and resourcefulness of Myanmar’s people, who have managed to organize and fight back against all odds. For him, their tenacity served as a poignant reminder of the human spirit’s capacity to endure and resist, even in the face of global indifference.
He concludes with reminder to listeners to keep paying attention to what is happening in Myanmar. “Keep Myanmar in your heart, keep it in front of your eyes. Do whatever you can to help the people of Myanmar.”
If you enjoyed this interview, please consider checking out our past episodes on similar topics:
· Bhikkhu Mokkhita talks about his experiences running a monastery school in a politically volatile region of Myanmar. His account reveals how communities grapple with the destruction of trust and physical spaces while striving to preserve their humanity.
· Thiri tells how her journey from a student to a human rights advocate showcases the transformative power of education and engagement in international media. Her story underscores the critical role of individual agency in amplifying underreported struggles.
· Charles Petrie’s decades of work with the United Nations, including direct experience in conflict zones like Myanmar, Rwanda, and the Middle East, have deepened his understanding of human resilience and the systemic failures of global institutions to address atrocity crimes. His reflections on emerging governance structures in Myanmar, especially those driven by local communities and Generation Z activists, highlight the transformative power of grassroots efforts in creating participatory governance and challenging oppressive regimes.
· Coco talks about his transition from a quiet life as a doctor to an active participant in his country’s Civil Disobedience Movement, illustrating the profound moral decisions faced by ordinary citizens under autocratic rule. His journey highlights how personal and professional sacrifices become acts of resistance.
· Shade’s work supporting underground medical missions demonstrates how diasporic communities can mobilize resources and expertise for humanitarian aid in their homeland. His insights reveal how connections across borders contribute to life-saving interventions.
· Liam Scott addresses the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) doctrine, which addresses the international community's potential to prevent mass atrocities and human rights violations. His analysis shows how such frameworks, despite their challenges, symbolize collective accountability and the ethical imperative to intervene.