Better to have No Haircut Today

The barber has just started cutting Ko Paing’s hair. It’s the end of term at college, so Ko Paing wants his hair cut short and neat for the graduation party.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and U Toke Kyee comes marching in looking flustered. He stands in the middle of the barber shop and looks at them for a minute, taking deep breaths. Then, he pulls what looks like a paperback manual from a plastic bag and holds it up, waving it in the air.

“Have you seen this?” he calls to the barber, his eyes bulging behind his spectacles.

“Seen what?” chirps the barber playfully. “Is it a list of duties your wife has given you?”

Ko Paing giggles, but keeps still, so the barber won’t be distracted and cut his ears off.

U Toke Kyee just shakes his head in exasperation. He takes two large strides closer to the barber and whispers in his ear:

“No, you dope. It’s the new constitution.”

“Oh really?” yawns the barber and bends over to trim behind the student’s ear.

“Yes, really!” exclaims U Toke Kyee. “It hasn’t been made public yet, so don’t tell a soul.”

“I won’t,” says the barber matter-of-factly.

“I got it from my cousin—he’s a civil servant,” U Toke Kyee goes on. “It’s top secret.”

“Is this the constitution we have to vote on in May?” asks Ko Paing.

“Yes!” remarks U Toke Kyee. “That’s what I’m telling you guys.”

“If it’s our national constitution,” mutters the barber. “Then why is it such a secret?”

U Toke Kyee stares back at the barber who says nothing. Ko Paing keeps his head steady but squints at the two older men out the corners of his eyes. There’s an uncomfortable silence for a minute, the only sound the gentle snip-snip of the barber’s scissors.

“I don’t know,” U Toke Kyee finally concedes and sits down a bench. The barber smiles wryly as U Toke Kyee quietly starts reading the manual.

A couple of minutes pass. U Toke Kyee keeps shaking his head and grunting in exasperated tones and tutting under his breath.

Finally, Ko Paing says, “U Toke Kyee? So, what does the constitution say?”

“Well…” sighs the old man and sits back, obviously pleased to have been asked the question. He fixes his glasses and clears his throat as if to make a speech.

“First of all…,” he begins in a gruff voice, “The aim of the draft constitution is to create a flourishing, discipline-flourishing multiparty democracy.”

“That’s a lot of flourishing,” mutters the barber.

“Also,” U Toke Kyee quickly continues. “It says there will be … let’s see… ‘further burgeoning of justice, liberty and equality’ in Burma.”

“Liberté, égaltité, fraternité!” shouts the barber in triumph.

Ko Paing looks confused and tries to twist his neck toward U Toke Kyee. “What does ‘further burgeoning’ mean?”

“It means that the junta will keep doing what they’ve been doing,” snaps the barber quickly.

U Toke Kyee turns the page in his precious manual and holds a finger up to denote that he is going to quote again.

“State Fundamental Principle 1(b),” he announces. “The State shall be known as Pyidaungsu Thamada Myanmar Naing-Ngan Daw.”

“Why can’t we just say ‘Burma’?” asks Ko Paing meekly.

“Because it’s too easy,” mutters the barber.

U Toke Kyee raises his spectacles for a minute and smiles: “Can you imagine at the Olympic Games when our athletes have to carry a big, long banner saying ‘Pyidaungsu Thamada Myanmar Naing-Ngan Daw’? Nobody in the stadium will know who we are!”

“On the contrary,” says the barber turning to him. “We might be the only ones in the stadium if the Olympic boycott goes ahead. Maybe just Sudan and us!”

“What else does the constitution say?” says Ko Paing, now quite interested.

“It says the president of the country must be over 45 years of age, be born in Burma, must have both parents born in Burma, must have lived here for at least 20 years and must have no allegiance to any foreign country,” reads U Toke Kyee.

“Hah! There are not many of us left who are eligible!” shouts the barber.

“Ouch!” shouts Ko Paing in response and rubs his head.

“Sorry,” whispers the barber and reaches for some ethyl alcohol to rub in the cut where he scratched Ko Paing’s scalp with his scissors.

U Toke Kyee doesn’t notice and keeps talking: “I suppose that’s Daw Suu disqualified then. And everyone in exile. And anyone who has lived abroad or whose mother was born elsewhere…”

“Well, what about having allegiance with a foreign country?” mutters the barber, dabbing Ko Paing’s head with cotton wool. “Surely that should exclude Than Shwe and his cronies—all their friends and business partners are foreign governments.”

“Well, what can we do?” mutters U Toke Kyee, throwing the manual down on the bench in disgust.