Buffalohair Than Shwe’s Election Plan Exposes Rats within the NLD

They only asked that their stories be told……. that was all, nothing more!

They did not play with our helpfulness or egos. To have us teach them how we work on the Internet to connect with the World and  in such great detail? Nor did they try to get into the middle of everything we did, like being a student under our wing , playing with the ego card again!  No, They were very humble and still are humble people. Warm and humble survivors.

But in the stories they told, they gave us warnings! As they already knew all the dangers!…….. To be very careful of all that was coming out from Burma or the Borders, Even from the prisons !!!!!! To help us know/understand about the fears that they have and what to try and watch for.

All these lessons came from the Karen people!

Ann LRD

Karen Banquet

Fortunately for the Karen refugees living in the USA they do not have to hide in the jungle, fear systematic extermination nor must they fear human traffickers. Their tales of survival, death and epic journey to refugee centers stagger the imagination. Once at the shelters death and survival was still the rule of the day. Refugee centers were already over crowded and struggling to maintain food and medical supplies before Cyclone Nargis struck. Refugees who survived the cyclone still faced death from the military and flooded refugee centers. I talked with a refugee who just arrived from Thailand 24 hours earlier. I was taken back by stories of the epic human drama that were unfolding in the camps along the Thai Burma border.

Supplies have been stretched beyond the limits as wounded and hungry survivors trickled into the camps, some from Nargis others escaping brutality and ethnic cleansing. For every refugee I encountered there was another tale of survival against all odds. Some journeys were lined with the blood of human suffering and terror beyond comprehension. Stories of corruption and graft from a variety of officials also added to the stew of scuttlebutt from refugee camps. Then it became apparent how easily anybody with money could gain access to the United States. They say Than Shwe agents and sympathizers gain access to the US and other countries pretending to be refugees.

My interpreter Madam Butterfly told me many stories of survival in Burma and the adjoining countries. Human carnage was more a signature from the junta and more common place than not. She and many others shared stories that would be likened to a spy thriller. From individuals to complete villages the tribal people of Burma have been relentlessly hunted down killed or made into slaves, rape was always a tool used by government troops. Burmese soldiers routinely burned Karen villages to the ground and shot villagers on sight. Families escaped into the night with only the cloths on their backs. If you were a member of 88 Generations, National League for Democracy member or any other pro democracy group you were subject to harassment and even death at any given time.

Imagine waking up one morning to the sound of automatic gun fire. The scene is surrealistic as your neighbors are gunned down before your eyes. You see troops drag an old woman in her nightgown out of the home kicking and screaming. It’s the old lady who makes the preserves in the fall. A pop, pop sound of a soldier’s pistol doles out a death sentences to the hapless elderly resident. You see her body contorting in her blood on the sidewalk while soldiers laugh and poke her with bayonets. Then you spot an officer pointing directly at your house just up the street. Their army trucks have your Dodge Diesel hemmed in and the street blocked on both ends.

With nowhere left to run you out the back door and head to the trees and hills behind the house. Just as you feel comfortable that you made your escape you begin to realize your wife/husband and kids were at the mall in town. Then you hear rifle fire and look back to see two infantrymen taking aim in your direction. You hear the grass around you as it is sheared by passing bullets. With only feet away from the thick of the forest you feel a searing pain in your right leg. Determined you keep running for safety. Finally you find cover from the gun fire and take time to asses your injury. Though it’s deep you discover you only have a flesh wound on the upper leg, no major arteries anyway. Cleaning your wound with shreds of cloth from your shirt you look back at your community. All you see is a massive column of dense black smoke as the town is burned to the ground. Helicopters circle the outer perimeter of the town picking off the stragglers. Hopefully you left the house with a jacket eh.

Course Madam Butterfly was a “Concrete Jungle Girl” from Mandalay City, gawd. She, Myat Ko Ko and Thant Zin were not refugees but political exiles. That’s another can of worms eh. Fortunately for Madam Butterfly she did not spend time at Insein Prison like Myat Ko and Thant did. One time I asked Myat Ko about the intervals guards tortured political prisoners. With a sheepish grin he said, “Every week”. But it was not a happy smile fore pain was in his eyes. All too apparent was the fact they missed their beloved homeland Burma regardless of the abuses. They and other former political prisoners paid the ultimate price for democracy and the country they love, some with their lives. It was an honor to be in the presents of true patriots.

After my latest visit to the Karen enclave I was struck by life’s contrast. Though I rant and rave about the loss of civil liberties and constitutional rights here in America I am thankful I still have the right to bitch about it. If I were in Burma I would be in lock down with the rest of the free thinkers if I was so lucky. Most likely my bones would be basking in the tropical sun on a desolate tract of land. All my records would be destroyed and I’d be just one more journalist who simply disappeared.

So when I was invited to dine with the Karen refugees a few weeks back I was truly honored to be in the company of these warm and humble survivors. A Si Po was the hostess and with the assistance of other Karen women they prepared a traditional meal. Through my interpreter I learned their needs were very simple. Resigned to the fact this culture was way to complex for them to truly assimilate they focused on their children.