by Matthew Au “Sometimes I am beset by fears that circumstances and national considerations might tear us apart just when we are so happy with each other that separation would be a torment.” – abstract of letter from Aung San Suu Kyi to her husband, Michael Aris, 1971. We know Aung San Suu Kyi as the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize winner, as the iron-willed politician who stared down her military oppressors, and as the lady who has single-handedly attracted the West’s attention to her country for the past two decades. We exalt her strengths so much that it sometimes slips our minds just how human she really is.
Here is a woman who spent most of her married life away from her husband, not even being able to be at his deathbed when he passed away. She was also absent for a significant part of her children’s lives, missing out on their formative years, defining moments, and memories. She traded everything she had for a sliver of hope that her country might one day see democracy. And for that she was punished with the most heart-wrenching pain not of isolation in detention, but of deprivation from the simplest familial joy. In 1997, Suu Kyi was temporarily released from house arrest and was deliberating whether or not to reunite with her husband, who was then in Britain diagnosed with prostate cancer. She decided against it for fear of the junta denying her re-entry into Myanmar. Aris passed away on 27 March 1999, on his 53rd birthday; he had not seen his wife for the last four years of his life. Bertil Lintner, a journalist and Myanmar authority once called Suu Kyi “a saint-like figure who can do nothing wrong” – but this is an accolade without applause and a celebration devoid of joy. Life, or rather, death, prepared Suu Kyi well for her destiny. Daughter of Aung San, Myanmar’s independence hero, she lost her father to assassination when she was just two years old. Her baby sister died just days after delivery and her elder brother Aung San Lin drowned in a pool when she was eight. Life took everything and gave nothing to this family. Yet while all of this would have shattered any mortal’s soul, Suu Kyi’s mother, Khin Kyi was the steel that would not be bent. Described by Suu Kyi as a perfectionist, Khin Kyi was the role model and source of strength that would tide her through the rough waves of politics and life. But fate was to crush even this last vessel of support. In 1988, Suu Kyi returned to Myanmar to nurse her critically ill mother, who was then leading the country’s pro-democracy movement. Her health took a turn for the worse and Suu Kyi suddenly found herself taking over her mother’s rein. Little did she then know then that this would mark the start of two decades of isolation, unjust persecution, and cruel separation from her loved ones. Yet for all that she has been through, Suu Kyi replied in a BBC interview, when asked if years of house-arrest had any effect on her: “They could not do anything to me. They can lock me up, but here (pointing to her head), they cannot touch me.” What Suu Kyi has achieved from her tiny confinement is monumental. There is a running joke in the United States that Myanmar is only a “boutique issue,” something foreign media pay perfunctory attention to as a token of responsibility for any self-proclaimed democratic nation. But regardless of the intent, she has always been able to call upon the international community’s might in her battle with the country’s dictators. Any Suu Kyi-related public speech or assembly has to be approved by the authorities, which takes a deliberately long time to approve. Then there are random offenses that she is charged with, without fair trial, to further lengthen her house arrest. But Suu Kyi bore all these things with poise and wisdom, always maintaining a love-all approach and despite relentless persecution from the military, she has called it the country’s “protector.” Slowly, however, the demographics of the country is changing, with staunch supporters of the junta gradually aging and the more western-influenced younger generations eager to steer the country out of her doldrums. And they know that true democracy is the answer. Somewhere underneath the currents, the tides are changing. Suu Kyi was released from house arrest on 13 November 2010, and over 600 political detainees were released in 2011. Finally, in a by-election held on 1 April 2012, Suu Kyi led her National League for Democracy (NLD) to snag 48 out of 664 parliamentary seats. However, changes are not going to happen overnight. 48 seats in a 664-seat parliament is what David is to Goliath, and everyone is holding their breath to see if the military will honor the election results. Should it really change its spots, then Suu Kyi can re-enter parliament after two tumultuous decades. It is a pricey ticket, one forged of blood, tears, and a myriad of incomprehensible sacrifices from Suu Kyi and her supporters. Let us see if it really brings democracy to Myanmar. a
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The Taida Student Journal has been active since 1995 with an ever-changing roster of student journalists at NTU. Click the above link to read about the authors Archives
May 2024
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