Demonstrate Your Loyalty by Demonstrating against the Demonstrations

“Hey U Toke Kyee, where have you just come from?” asks the barber.

U Toke Kyee seems tired and doesn’t reply immediately. He slumps down on a bench and sighs.

“From the demonstration,” he replies quietly. 

Ko Paing gives him a minute to catch his breath and then says. “Will there be any more demonstrations this week?”

U Toke Kyee shakes his head: “No. This was a double demonstration—a demonstration against the demonstrations and a demonstration for the convention.”

Ko Paing and the barber stare at each other in confusion.

U Toke Kyee takes a cup of water and drinks it down in one gulp. Then he explains: “We had to shout ‘We Want Peace and Quiet!’ and ‘We Don’t Need This Unrest!’ and ‘We Support the Draft Constitution!’ I had to attend the rally because nobody in my house was free; they were all working.”

The barber smiles wryly at U Toke Kyee and asks, “So only free men were at the rally?”

“Exactly!” exclaims U Toke Kyee. “The security forces told us that if we didn’t attend the demonstration, not only would we have to pay a 3,000 kyat fine, but they would come and check our ‘household members list’ every night!

“And…” he goes on quickly, not letting the other two interrupt him. “…not only that, but the Ward Peace and Development Council would never issue me a recommendation letter if I didn’t go!”

The barber scowls and starts to sweep the floor: “Why do you care so much about their night visits and recommendation letters?”

U Toke Kyee retorts, “Oh, it is everything my friend. My house always has guests from my home town who come here in search of work. I can’t just hide them all under the mattress, you know!”

He goes on: “And if they don’t issue you a Letter of Recommendation, you can’t apply for a job, go to school or go to the hospital. You can’t even die… they won’t issue you a death certificate if you don’t have one of those stupid letters!”

Ko Paing sits back in his armchair and smiles: “Oh, I see—you want to die properly. Of course. However, I would like to suggest that you wait for our new constitution before you die.”

“No way!” U Toke Kyee spits out. “I want to die before that constitution is finished. I felt ashamed going to that stupid rally. I don’t want to have to attend more demonstrations after the constitution.”

“Don’t worry about it, U Toke Kyee,” says the barber. “They’ll take another 14 years to draw up the constitution. By that time, you’ll be playing with the angels in heaven.”

Ko Paing gets up and puts a hand on U Toke Kyee’s shoulder: “I feel for you, my friend. You should go back to your home town and live there peacefully. Life’s not so hard in the rural areas.”

U Toke Kyee sighs: “No way. I’ve just come back from my home town. Nobody is free down there. Even my little grandchildren were kicked out of primary school. You can’t even find a job down there. I think it’s better for me to become a monk and avoid all these worldly troubles.” 

The barber pats him on the back and swivels a chair around for him: “Come on, I will shave your head for you free of charge! But I warn you… if you head out to Pakokku to join in the real demonstrations with the monks there, you’ll probably get arrested.”

The barber shrugs, then goes on: “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about nightly raids by the police and letters of recommendation if you’re in prison…”