The Women's League of Burma
Bringing me one Step Closer to Classroom Martial Law

Last Thursday my students did not have social studies class. They were speaking with a representative from the Women's Leauge of Burma. They had not informed me. I almost suspended the constitution. Well, I would have if I had I had listened to my closest advisor, housemate Dave, who shouted, "rip up the constitution, declare yourself dictator, and lock three of them in the bathroom."

The next day, my students and I had a talk. First, I told them how close they were to bringing about the collapse our fragile federation. Secondly, I told them I wanted to be kept abreast of goings on. They gave me a brochure that the woman from the Women's League of Burma gave them.

Neurotic little me scanned it. Here are the scans.


How could I suspend the constitution when my students were discussing this?


Download the front of the Women's League of Burma pamphlet.
Download the back of the Women's League of Burma pamphlet.

Bone Choking Surge
from The Bangkok Post

I know maybe I shouldn't think this is funny, but somehow it is.

We eat a lot of fish here. I chew it very slowly.

My True Nationalist Spirit

I'm pretty virulently anti-nation, but a few weeks ago I got roped into going to Mon National Day ceremonies. This is the ethnic group of the smallest kid in class, Jaer, a twenty year old kid from Mon State, one of the ethnic areas embroiled in revolution against the Burmese government. Since they can't split from the Union in Burma, they hold ceremonies celebrating their split from outside.

I imagined festive dances and fireworks on national day, maybe even guns being shot into the air. Instead, we went to a little house and listened to Jaer and another man speak with incomprehensible fervor about something we had little heart for.

Afterward, some other guys from my organization said no one else could understand them either: they were speaking Mon. Then Jaer gave me a booklet on Mon history. It's no wonder they're proud. They once held sway over the whole of present-day Burma until the Burmans trounced them some seven hundred years ago.

Here's a photo from that day, just to prove I haven't given up on nationalism completely.

Notice how my photos get blurrier and blurrier. Notice the flag with the yellow swan flying toward the blue star. It symbolizes peace. Notice the strange and random Brit next to your narrator and his happy American housemate on the other side. Notice Jaer in the front row in the red pants. (Awwww...) Notice the sign in Mon that Jaer made. Notice the twenty or so people who could not understand or join in when Jaer, the leader, or the woman who introduced the two of them when they began singing the national anthem after Jaer spouted a series of militaristic commands to salute and sing. Believe you me, we saluted...

The Pain of Learning the Thai Alphabet

I continue to slug it out in Thai lessons, despite not knowing much difference between the teacher's complex Burmese explanations and his simple Thai explanations. I've enlisted the help of another volunteer, who is half Thai and half British and spent the first eight years in Thailand before moving first to Singapore and then to England. She speaks Thai fluently, but she is illiterate and wants to learn the writing system. This worked out well for me! Now I get her to translate.

I'll give you a taste of my pain:

Here's the character called Ror Reua.

It is a consonant. It sounds like /r/ and it is supposed to represent a kind of small boat.

But, when it comes at the end of a word, it's pronounced /n/. If it is doubled, it becomes some sort of /a/ sound. There are 46 of these constantly-shifting little buggers. There are 26 vowels, four tone marks (for five tone that can only be used with some of the characters), a unique numbering system, and curling punctuation. My brain feels full.

I shall overcome. Though Thai appears more complicated than Chinese, I know I will plateau sooner or later. I can already read simple phrases like: "have in paddy" and "your paternal grandfather looks in ears." Useful? Infinitely.

Sarcasm? Definite.

poem as prologue
The Highway Taken
Joe Garth Crawst

All jogging paths converged on a massive highway
And sorry I could not find a faster way off,
And being one jogger, quick I ran
And jogged on as one who wanted back in town
To where my dinner waited in a stovetop pan.

I then was running with a sigh
Somewhere next to fields with many a fence:
All roads converged on the Trilateral Highway, and I--
I got off that route most travelled by,
and that--that made me lost.

True story.

Head Out on the Highway

I live about two kilometers from a stretch of the highway that will one day connect to the Trans-Asia Highway, a project the World Bank and the Asia Development Bank hope will support "the socio-economic development of more than 200 million people...in Cambodia, China, Laos, Myanmar [Burma],
Thailand and Vietnam." 1 It will cost more than $40 billion over the next 25 years.

This seven+ nation highway--like most highways--frightens me. Not only are there environmental and social costs , but political ones as well. This is because--within the timeframe of the highway--there seems to be only a small window of opportunity for democracy in Burma. This highway could have a major impact on that process. Let me explain why.

In the next few months, Burma's ruling military government since 1962 will begin another constitutional convention process. Whether that process is transparent and has a concrete timetable remains to be seen. The junta--now known as the SPDC or "State Peace and Development Council,"--began this process in 1996, and failed. Aung San Suu Kyi, the leader of the National League for Democracy--the opposition's biggest party--walked out of negotiations.

There is a long history of failed democracy in Burma. Assuming the opposition was too fragmented to elect a leader, the SPDC allowed nation-wide elections in 1990 and an 80% majority put Aung Sun Suu Kyi in power. The junta freaked and put Aung San under arrest shortly thereafter. Through international pressure, she has been released several times, but after a rally last year in which she was hurt, the government put her under house arrest in a government "guest house."

The refugee community remains skeptical of the most recent attempt by the SPDC to start the constitutional process. Many see this as just an attempt to convince the right-leaning Thai government to continue bilateral trade talks with the Myanmar (Burmese). (The US and EU continue their 15-year trade sanctions, while India and China, among other nations, keep the regime alive and well-stocked with all sorts of weapons. They like Burmese gems and have their eyes on other natural resources). The Thai government--and to some degree the United Nations--are pushing for cease-fire agreements whether or not this leads to a real constitution. Then surroundnig countries can ship refugees back to Burma, thought of political retribution by the SPDC be damned.

Now that many ethnic groups are signing cease-fire agreements, pressure is mounting for a constitution to secure some degree of civil society. Four ethnic groups--the Arakan, Shan, Chin and Karenni--hold out for independence. (One independent local observer told me that this is because the SPDC teaches a very skewed version of federalism in its state schools, braingwashing the citizenry into thinking federalism divides a country, not state, national and local power).

Another leading incentive for the SPDC (SLORC, junta, whatever) to propose a more definite timetable with some degree of legitimacy is the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN) chairmanship, which will be passed to Burma in 2006. If an authoritarian regime represents one of Asia's top trade groups, western nations will have a hard time seeing past the human rights abuses, and this could hurt trade in the other nine member countries.

Though the Pan-Asian and Trilateral Highways' short-term impact on the upcoming constitutional process may be considerable, the long-term consequences are what worry me. If the SPDC remains in power, these highways may bring prosperity--but only to the ruling class. Very little in Burma trickles down.

Once trade kicks in, the military will be able to reign in the rest of the ethnic groups, and the democracy movement will lose steam. Trade between the regional powers will increase. (Burma would then be like Indiana, which has nothing better to put on its license plates than "Indiana: the crossroads of America.")

This trade would probably produce a closed society something like China was in the 1980s shortly after Deng Xiao Ping's reform and opening of the the mid-late '70s. Burma's upper (read: upper=military) class would see the same kind of freedom that mainland China's moneyed middle and upper classes began to see: freedom of movement, and freedom to buy things. Freedom to express thought--the only freedom really worth dying for---would be far away.

Though the freedom that comes from money is an improvement for some, cutting giant highways through the rainforest is not good for the most important long-term goal: survival of the planet.

I apparently traveled on a part of one of these highways in Ho Chi Minh City. I didn't even know it. Now I cross a this ever-widening portion of the highway whenever I ride my bike to the local reservoir for a swim.

I can see for miles and miles. All the way to New Dehli.

Taking the world in a love embrace and firing all of my guns at once,
~your narrator

A New Vision of Energy Independence
Three Million Jobs. Freedom From Foreign Oil. This is what I'm talking about.

Read John Podesta's remarks at a conference in Detroit organized by the Apollo Alliance.

"Even if we were somehow able to satisfy our demand for oil from sources outside of the Persian Gulf -- say from such politically stable regions as the Caspian Basin, Nigerian, and Angolan -- the truth is that the countries of the Middle East would still have a lock on our economy.

The reason?

It's because OPEC would be able to manipulate oil prices within the United States by reducing or increasing their own production.

And the impact of oil prices changes can be catastrophic. In fact, one study (by Oak Ridge Laboratory) found that the cost to the U.S. economy from the oil market upheavals of the last 30 years was $7 trillion dollars!

That's why the real choice America is facing isn't between getting more oil abroad or producing more at home.

Neither option is going to promote a healthier environment, a better economy, or the kind of foreign policy that truly honors our values.

The real choice is between using more oil or less of it by investing in new technology, expanding conservation, and using solar energy, wind power and other renewable resources."

Read John Podesta's remarks at a conference in Detroit organized by the Apollo Alliance.

Why this Monster-In-Chief?
Let's pass a constitutional amendment banning dinosaurs and monsters from becomming president.

So Bush wants to ban gay marriage with a constitutional amendment. Not that Dem hopefuls Kerry or Edwards are much better. They don't support gay marriage, but at least they don't want to ban it.

Why can't America be more like the "liberal democracy" of Cambodia whose king saw gay weddings in San Fran on TV and decided Cambodia should have the same? As my housemate said in a kingly voice, "a generation ago, we killed a third of our citizenry, but now we're stepping ahead of of the United States of America on social issues."

It would really set Bush apart if he called for support of gay marriage. No democrat seems to be able to do that. Seems it may have to be a republican.

Bah. I've created a petition calling for a constitutional amendment to ban monsters and dinosaurs from being selected as president. Please sign it here.

"Where Are My Chili Boots?"

It's almost chili eating time at my house. My housemate David and I spent yesterday morning at market with two Burmese housemates aquiring ingredients for this American delicacy. (Hmm...is it stricly American? Or is it Tex-Mex? Or even...Canadian?!?) .

We found kidney beans and bell peppers hardest to find, for how could we settle with lentils? Impossible! Spices were also a trick, but--with the help of freshly ground black pepper and chili peppers aplenty--we shall prevail. And just in time for David's birthday celebration tonight. The guys even bought him a cake, even though Burmese generally don't like sweet things.

Now the ingredients are in a big pot on the stove, awaiting the arrival of other foreign volunteers.

Ah, the chili hour. Is any hour finer?

Mapping to Minimize Inequality (An Elementary Social Studies Lesson)

This week, ThaiPost delivered three packages that made me happy.

The first was from a college friend who sent me a letter.

The second was from a Chinese friend who sent a box of Chinese candy, a red string bracelet with jade, and two pairs of red "lucky underwear" with glittery happiness characters on the elastic band right below my navel. These red objects are designed to keep me safe during my perilous 24th year on earth, my potentially lucky, potentially life-altering Monkey Year. After sharing the candy with my students and my American housemate, I ate the rest of it all that night. I've been washing the lucky underwear every other day in order to maximize the amount of time it contacts my body.

The third package was from my housemate's Missouri parents, who sent him chocolate chip cookies, an accurate map of the world, and teacher's wall tack--that blue rubber that's unavailable in Asia. I have gotten use of the tack and the map, and I got to eat one of the cookies. (So the package wasn't really sent to me, but David did put in the sticky tack requests for me).

Here's the map his parents sent him. It's called the Peter's Projection Map.

I bet this is different than the map you used in school. Can't place where the differences lie? Look at the massive stretch of Africa. Look at the puniness of Greenland. This is an accurate projection of the earth's surface.

Now look at the Mercator Projection.

This is the map you used in school. Doesn't it seem like a joke? Greenland has an area of .8 square miles. Africa's area is 11.6 square miles. But they're the same size on this map. That's because it's nearly 450 years old. Europe was then the center of world power. The new Peter's Projection maps the countries scientifically, not by colonial ego.

We can thank Gerardus Mercator for that old map. He was German. He lived in the 16th Century.


All of his maps should be burned (except the ones in history of science museums). Then we'd realize that Alaska is not twice as big as Mexico, Russia is not so scary, and the southern hemisphere is actually pretty big. We could just as easily use this map:

The Joys of Learning the Whimsical Thai Language

Every afternoon at about 3:30, a soft-spoken Thai man of medium stature, medium girth, and a steady demeanor opens the gate of our house and drives in on his motorbike. (He's cute like a penguin is cute). One of the students closes the gate, another gets him a cold glass of lemonade, and he procedes to drill eight sentences into our heads for an hour and a half.

The sentences are mostly irrelevent to my daily life. I'll never ask anyone around the house "did you finish your shower?" in Thai. They're all Burmese. Nor will I likely have the gall to tell someone "you lied to me." But I will ask about buying oranges by the kilo and answering the curious about how long I've been here. If only I could remember how to say these things.

I thought Chinese was difficult. I thought I was doing well to learn one word a day while in the Middle Kingdom. Now I'm supposed to be learning about 20 times that. Each day, the Burmese close their notebooks and recite. I'm lucky to get through the passages even with my notebook open. I'm lucky to learn at a quarter of the speed of my Burmese classmates.

The language itself is much different from Chinese. Each class has an element of a music lesson as we cascade up, down and over certain tonal sounds. In Thai there are five tones (rising, falling, medium, high and low). In Mandarine, four. There are long vowel sounds and short (as in you hold the the "note" for twice as long as a short vowel sound, not your pronounce "a" like "hey" instead of "ah"), and there are at least twice as many letters as in English. But at least the language is phonetic! (Unlike Chinese).

I love the letters, if only that they all mean something. There are flags, turtles, spears, thrones, child monks, monkeys, elephants, giants, and soldiers--not that any of the characters resemble the signified. And English? Damned if I know what A once meant. English is a heady language. Thai seems grounded. I feel more grounded.

Emergency Powers

I've had a productive week. Hence, no posts.

First, in my classes, we got a constitution written. The students put in a provision that they "must obey the teacher." So I'll make the power grab soon. And then we'll put the judiciary to work. Or get an amendment pushed through. Until then, I'll be assigning strange and possibly demanding assignments with glee.

I've also got a great chance to show how a federalist government works and will be planning those lessons soon. Since all of my students are from different ethnicities, this is a perfect micro-experiment/cross section of Burma and its many nationalities. I've also got a lot of little things to work on them with, so I'll start with definite and indefinite articles, among other grammar points. I've got to be practical too. Then we can get to the grant writing and revolution.

I'm generally happy here. The life is simple. The gems are plentiful. The foreigners are random and colorful. A French monk I've been looking for just sat behind me at this internet cafe. The food is cheap. It's a world of karaoke-singing exiled minority commanders and revolution. Saw Aun San Su Kyi, the elected representative of the National League for Democracy (now under house arrest) looks over all our living/working space with a benevolent smile.

I don't have class on Monday because my students are going to what they're calling "The Real National Convention of Burma." I don't know what this means, except that the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC, or ruling junta in Burma) must be organizing a concurrent convention that is not to the liking of the minorities who have yet to sign a cease fire agreement with them. The thing is, most of the fighting has stopped because all but a few of the fighting states have signed cease fire agreements, but the few holdouts are afraid that the SPDC will steamroll a new constitution through while doing nothing to address human rights abuses and grant equal representation. A constitution would give the regime international credibility and put an end to sanctions from the EU and the States. (China and India already trade with Burma, and Thailand has something in the works). A premature constitution would be devastating.

I'll try to write something more coherent on the political situation soon. The details are complex and complexifying. And as much as I thought I was going to give up Chinese, that big bag of flashcards calls, as do the enigmatic characters that spring up around town. My Thai is getting more functional too. And yesterday I bought a dictionary. And it's in Thai script........I've got about half the letters in my head, so it won't be long before I'm a lean, nice reading/writing machine.

Updates of a Random Nature

Two nights ago one of the cooks was nabbed by the police while she bought vegetables. One thousand Baht got her out of jail. Now she can't leave the premises.

My classes are going quite well. I'm blessed with 10 dilligent, intelligent students ranging from age 20-33. We're working on our writing. I also teach them social studies.

My Thai is picking up speed. I can roll through the tones like the rest of the people in my class. Unfortunately, I'm having difficulty memorizing eight phrases every night like the Burmese. If only American education had pumped more facts into me. (I can't believe I just wrote that). I say that because maybe then I'd be trained to memorize better.

The treasurer of our organization cut her hip-length hair today so she would look less Burmese. She has to make a six-hour trip tomorrow. She was very angry, but mostly at the cost of the haircut: 1000Baht. Let's hope she doesn't have to bail any of her friends out any time soon.

Also: John Snow can lick my dirty sandal-clad feet. What's with abandoning the strong dollar policy? Yeepin' yimminnee...........At least things in Thailand are cheap enough that the Bush administration's reckless gamble won't make my cost of living that much higher.

Until we meet again,
~josh(away)

Sunday Strolling--or, my Requisite Street Market Laudation
Thai-Burmese border

Time and time again, I'm amazed at what I find in the back alleys of the developing world. And I'm not talking about illegal drugs, prostitution, or other things that could land me in prison. I'm far enough away from the Golden Triangle that the only drugs I have seen so far are the ones that cause cancer and car accidents . I'm talking about hawker food of all kinds, unexampled day laborers, and gems, gems, gems up the yinyang.

My town's markets are not just the usual fish heads and eel tails. I find many things Chinese, everything Burmese (with strong Indian influences), tastes of Muslim, and Thai food on trays aplenty. Today I bought waffles. Waffles! Two for ten cents. There's a woman at the night market who makes crepes with chocolate sauce. Sweet sticky rice comes in banana leaves tied with straw and the hawker today spoke excited English.

At the gem markets, I felt like I was playing that child's game "Bazaar," the one with all the glass gems. But these gems were real. Saphires, rubies, emeralds, jade, pearls and gold all flood across the border from Burma. In one bazaar, a woman began speaking to me in so-so English and before I knew it I was talking to a half Chinese guy with a Yunnan dialect. An old woman sat down next to me and pulled out a bag of stones. I was half interested until I asked the Chinese man if he knew about Tibetan Water Chrystals, something I forgot to look for in Kunming. He said I was holding them in my hands! Afterward, the woman offered me street ice cream, which I could have had for another ten cents, except the hawker had taken off.

I find myself settling into this town nicely. Sure, there is talk of the occasional hit. (A Thai can order someone killed for $10). And sometimes I see a kid with an Osama Bin Laden t-shirt. But overall, the volunteers here are great, my students are excited "emotioned" about class starting tomorrow, and there's a month until we really get into the hot season.

Chewing Betel Nut like a Refugee

My living arrangements here are much like I experienced in college living in Minnie's Cooperative House (the "Purple Palace of Unearthly Delights"). I live with a dozen+ other people in two houses. We're mostly under thirty. But we haven't had any long meetings and I haven't had to install a new bathroom sink, grout a floor, wire an ethernet, or punish people for not cleaning the kitchen. Oh, and no one was chewing Betel nut in college.

I chewed some betel nut the first night I was here. The nut itself was jagged and somewhat bitter, about the size of a large marble, but was wrapped in its leaf with chewing tobacco, what I think was lime (as in the white powder), and something sweet. I was offered it as an afterthought just as I was about to leave with my coordinator on the back of her motorbike. The guy who gave it to me cautioned that I might get dizzy and laughed. I was hoping for at least that. Or a hot face, as I've read. Instead, after three solid hours, I got only sore jaws and irritated gums, and the slight craving for more betel nut the next day.

They're calling me for lunch.....

Feeling Altruistic? Here's your chance....

As I wrote in a recent post, I met up with a university friend in Bangkok last week and he described his harrowing hospital experiences working in a Banladeshi emergency room. He was buying a defribulator in the Thai capital, since he couldn't get it in Bangladesh.

My friend sent me an email today that perfectly describes his situation:

i had a patient last night who went into hypovolemic
shock (lack of blood in body because too much blood
went out of the body from her vagina). the hospital
ran out of a rare blood group AB+ for her, but
coincidentally I'm AB+ so we gave her a transfusion of
my blood. she died five hours later because we
couldn't transfuse the blood fast enough because we
don't have the correct machine for doing it. i don't
know how i feel about all of this. i'm a bit upset.

If you feel like making a donation, this is a cause where you can have a major impact. Some of the equipment in his hospital only costs $20, but isn't within the budget. My friend described the way many Non-Governmental Orgs waste donor money (he described Doctors Without Borders as being "just a bunch of Dutch guys driving around in Land Rovers--why?!?") and said he could put the money to better use buying the necessary equipment himself. I know you wouldn't get any tax write-offs, but think about it. Contact my friend at this address: khennric@yahoo.com He's in-country for another few months, and even after that, I'm sure he can get the equipment where it needs to go.

A (Slight) Change of Plans
Thai-Burmese border, Thailand

I'm back on the net, sharing a dial-up connection with three other computer users. Sorry for the break. I've been busy.

I am settling in with my organization. It's not the organization I'd planned to teach and live with--and this is for the better! After meeting the members of my original group, another volunteer had a sudden change of heart and plans, and the coordinator of BVP asked me to take his place. He'd been here two weeks and the students were already attached to him.

Amid frantic packing and lesson explanations, the previous volunteer told me that his business his business partner was screwing him and that he realized he "wasn't meant to be a teacher." He also complained about the noise of the roosters and dogs and peacock outside the window. For a few moments, I felt the weight of his departure, then I snapped out of it and began preparing lessons for next week.

My organization is comprised of young people from ten of the hundred or so ethnic groups in Burma. It's a congress devoted to national reconciliation and inter-group politics, among other things. I'm sorry that, owing to the nature of my position, I'm barred from saying much more about them. Caution is the name of the game. Patience and caution.

The acronyms are flying through my head like mad. Every exile group has a complicated name. The Burmese junta has gone by three seperate names in the last decade. Then there are other NGOs and donor organizations.

I'm in a bustling little town and I've been exploring it. I have a bike. It is full of markets with not just the usual pigs' heads on tables. Inhabitants coat their faces with yellow powder from a tree after bathing. There are many Muslims too. My first day here, I walked down a small cul-de-sac to examine the flowers and was surrounded by friends of Allah, the doughy-handed patriarch encouraging me to shake his hand repeat a chant to the heavens.

I'm putting Chinese language study on hold. I didn't get my scholarship to study Pre-Revolutionary Chinese pop music in Shanghai. This means the Peace Corps is probably in my future. Hopefully funding for that program will hold out under future budgets. In the meantime, it's Burmese and Thai study for me. And dinner at the vegetarian restaurant in town. And living more simply than I ever imagined possible. This is the life I was meant to be living.

Angkor Wat Restoration

A decent article about Angkor's restoration from the New York Times:
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/02/03/arts/03ANGK.html

With the Refugees, With Care
Thai-Burmese border

I left Bangkok after one night, nearly missing my bus after going to a department store to buy a book on learning Thai and have a final taste of home (a movie with popcorn, coke, and ice cream, plus pasta afterward). I paid the cabi a handsome tip to get me to my ride with one minute to spare.

The bus was an all-night affair. I would wake at random places further and further from English-speaking tourist outposts. Everyone on the bus was Thai, or so it seemed. The monk with the tattoos all over his body and hairline, the two bankers behind me who confessed their desire to go to America, the people who sprung up sitting in the aisles halfway through the trip. Then, a few kilometers outside of my destination, finding half the people on the bus were gone! They were all crowded in front of a few immigration officers outside the bus. An immigration officer quickly glanced at my passport and moved along. The bankers told me what I already suspected: these were Burmese refugees returning from work in Bangkok. They were being shipped back to Burma.

I must be very careful what I write. Most of the people here are at risk of serious and harsh prison time if they return to Burma. They often don't leave their houses for fear of upsetting their gracious Thai hosts. After what happened to the Burmese on the bus the night before, I can see why. Some are part of democracy movements. Others took up arms when the Burmese military regime displaced their families. All of them want to improve their lives by learning English and continuing their education. Still, I can give a few details.

I've met some of my students, become aquainted with the Burma Volunteers Office, and had a home-cooked Burmese meal with my hosts. I also went to a small museum that shows in very moving detail the conditions of some of Burma's many prisons. Two former political prisoners showed me and another new volunteer around.

I must be going now. Sorry for the paucity of details. I'm connecting right now via a card I found lying around in the office and it's time to disconnect so we can open for the business of furthering human rights. I move in with my group today. They're net-enabled. So more later.