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Daw Suu's Letter from Burma #4



Mainichi Daily News, Monday, May 5, 1997

WOMEN OF NLD EMBODY THE SPIRIT OF FREEDOM:
"Fighting Peacock Maidens"

Letter from Burma (No. 4) By Aung San Suu Kyi

	May is the month of merry madness and darling buds when, in temperate
lands, people are turning their faces towards the kindly light of the spring
sky.  The Burmese word /may/ means young woman or mother.  It is a soft
sounding word with a spring flavor in a country that knows no spring, but
its softness belies the hard lot of many of our women, especially women
involved in politics.  Some years ago, just before I was placed under house
arrest, I was sent a poem by somebody who called herself Fighting Peacock
Maiden.  I do not know who she was and what role she played in the democracy
movement.  Somehow I get the impression that she was young.  But her
knowledge of the path of politics, perhaps a knowledge acquired through
poetic inspiration rather than practical experience, is mature and
disturbingly acute.  She entitled her poem, "Thorn and Pride."

	Grasp bravely
	The signpost of pride,
	Let it be steadfast;
	As we struggle forward
	To continue the journey
	Another step.
	There will be those who cling to us
	There will be those who abandon us
	There will be those who understand
	There will be those full of wile.
	People, people, so many people,
	Those who will join hands with us,
	those who will remain devoted,
	And those who will fall away.
	But ...
	For the sake of that goal
	Within our hearts,
	Make the hard journey with conviction;
	Turn away with equanimity from
	The gossip, the innuendoes, the slander.
	Holding fast to our conviction,
	Grasp strongly
	The signpost of pride.
	Don't let it waver!
	We dare
	To stay here,
	To blossom here,
	To drop here.

	How many of our women, in particular the mothers and wives of prisoners of
conscience, have to take that hard "another step" each day?  A prisoner is
allowed a 15-minute visit from his family once a fortnight.  The
preparations for this visit begin a few days in advance as mothers, wives,
sisters and daughters start shopping and cooking and packing the parcels of
food and medicine without which their loved ones would be unable to survive
the tough regime of Burmese jails.
	The unfortunate ones who are kept in prisons far from their home towns -- a
gratuitous piece of cruelty -- can only look forward to a monthly visit at
best.  Octogenarian mothers have made this bittersweet trip regularly,
determined to exchange a loving look and a smile of encouragement with sons
grown gaunt after years away from the comforts and the carefully prepared
food of home.  Young wives, pretty brows furrowed with anxiety, try to
present a brave image of strength and health as they search for words that
will not betray the difficulties faced by families torn apart.  Children
chatter inconsequentially, unconsciously following the lead of their elders
in the attempt to make the abnormal appear as everyday fare.  And all the
while they are thinking of the years of separation that still stretch ahead.
I know a mother who made a vow to wear the tree bark brown color of ascetics
for the rest of her life if her son were not released by her 60th birthday.
That birthday has come and gone and her son remains in prison.  She
continues to face each "another step" with pride, her sad face beautifully
above the somber color of her clothes.
	During the elections of 1990, 15 women candidates were returned
successfully.  All 15 belonged to the National League for Democracy.  Of
these, five were imprisoned shortly after the elections and one was
disqualified on the pretext that here accounting of campaign expenses was
unsatisfactory.  Thus within months of their election, a third of the women
members of Parliament were deprived of their positions and their liberty.  A
high toll indeed.
	Life is not easy for women political prisoners.  They are kept together
with ordinary criminals and often subjected to humiliating treatment from
the wardens.  Delicate young women used to a sheltered existence find
themselves consorting with murderers and have to learn the basic rules of
harmonious human relationships.  One prisoner of conscience gave birth to
her baby in the jail hospital and, for the sake of the child, had to let her
family take it away from her after a couple of months.  It needs fortitude
and good humor to cope with a prison environment and some of the women
proved to have ample reserves of both.  There were those who danced at the
time of the Burmese New Year at the cost of a period of punishment in
solitary confinement -- and considered that they have done well out of the
bargain.  They got their priorities correct.
	But of course it is not all fun and games in a penal institution, far from
it.  There must have been times when women confined by the walls of prison
and bound in uncongenial companionships must have longed for the wings of
dove that they might fly to gentle lands ruled by compassion.  There must
have been times when they wished that the gods were kindly beings who looked
down on mere mortal not with stern indifference but with sweet understanding.
	For women not incarcerated in prison but fighting for their right to engage
in the everyday work of a political party, there are different kinds of
challenges.  The women of the National League for Democracy are of all ages
and come from all strata of society and have learnt to approach their work
with an insouciant gaiety in the face of what might be euphemistically
termed "grave official disapproval." There are comfortable housewives, brisk
businesswomen, well qualified professionals, lively pensioners and dedicated
young students.  They are joined together in the belief that it is their
duty to fight for the kind of society where they and their families are
respected for their human worth rather than for their social status.  The
women often display impressive organizational capacity and initiative,
quietly finding their way around the restrictions placed on the activities
of the party.
	The women of the NLD have demonstrated at several ceremonies organized the
party in recent months that their artistic talents are not inconsiderable.
We discovered that we had choreographers, dancers and singers.  There were
also several young women with a decided talent for acting.  One of them had
to spend her nights plaiting ropes to support a living for her elderly
mother and herself but she did not miss coming to any of the rehearsals for
a play in which she portrayed a young village girl engaged in resistance
activities during the war.
	For our water festival, we arranged an entertainment program that ranged
from pop songs to a Burmese version of Bernard Shaw's "Arms and the Man."
There was also a dance of peacock maidens, resplendent in shimmering
blue-green, symbolizing the beauty of committed struggle.  I have no idea
where the Fighting Peacock Maiden who sent me the poem might be, but I would
like her to know that there are those who have not fallen away, who are
prepared to take another proud step toward that goal within their hearts,
with complete conviction but with a wonderful lightness of spirit.