Democracy Travelogue

by David Lee Drotar

The melodic chanting of Buddhist monks drifts through the still atmosphere. I float just as idly down the silty water of the Ayeyarwady River through the mysterious land once known as Burma, and now called the Union of Myanmar. White-washed and gold-plated temples glisten in the tropical sun covering the distant hills.

I cannot distinguish past, present and future. On the satellite-fed television stations beamed down to my ship cabin, I follow the events on the other side of the globe.

Election posters decorated Thailand last Spring. Photo by the author.

March 7, 2000 (Super Tuesday). This is the high-stakes day on which candidates for the United States presidency hope to win enough votes to assure their party's nomination. Large numbers of votes in many key states are up for grabs today.

I look up from the CNN broadcast to see small tent camps of itinerant fishing families on sandy banks where the water has receded during the dry season in the central plains. Less than 15 percent of Myanmar's population has electricity, much less television.

March 6, 2000. The campaign of a maverick senator has caught the nation's attention and energized the political process. Speaking at a rally in Santa Clara, California, John McCain addresses the diverse crowd of Republicans, independents, democrats, libertarians and vegetarians. "We hope to involve young people in democracy again," he says.

During our stay in Myanmar, we can take pictures of beautiful buildings and people. But we should not take pictures of soldiers or military trucks. "It will be a big problem for you--and for me," the guide says.

March 5, 2000, Chiang Mai, northern Thailand. Unofficial results filter in from Thailand's first-ever senate election. Previously, the senators were government appointees. An article in the Bangkok Post estimates that the makeup of the 200-seat senate would consist of about 70 percent entrenched ex-politicians, their relatives and other influential people. But results show that only 48 percent represent the old guard. Social-minded candidates like former teacher Mrs. Prateep Ungsongham Hata who helped slum areas acquire schools were elected in overwhelming numbers.

March 4, 2000. My steward pokes his head into the cozy lacquered-teak cabin as the train clickety clacks into the sunrise.

"Would you be for more coffee, sir?" he asks, silver tray in hand.

I'm en route to northern Thailand through the main valley that stretches between Bangkok and Chiang Mai. Meanwhile across the country, Thais are flocking to the polls in record numbers.

March 3, 2000. Purple orchids hang from trees along a Bangkok street as we creep through the noisy sea of vehicles on our way to the Grand Palace. Vendors walk among the standing traffic to sell jasmine garlands which can be offered to Buddha.

To each side of me, political posters for the upcoming senate election are hung in store windows, strung across bank buildings, and pasted on lamp posts. Every candidate is identified with a number. Number 104 is a middle-aged woman who reminds you of the high school teacher who could silence a roomful of rowdy adolescents with just a glare.

At the end of the day we wait to board our train at Bangkok's Hua Lamphong railway station. Thai passengers waiting for trains to take them to their home provinces to vote tomorrow are not as lucky. There is not enough transportation to handle the unexpected rush of 100,000 people leaving Bangkok by train.

March 2, 2000.

I hit the bustling Bangkok streets on foot, absorbing the ambience of the diverse population who enjoy the freedom and tolerance they find in this southeast Asian mecca for alternative lifestyles. Despite the Thai acceptance of a wide range of opinions, one area that is off-limits to multiple viewpoints is the portrayal of the King. The script for the recent Hollywood movie Anna and the King was not government-approved and producers had to film elsewhere. (They chose Malaysia.) When the movie was released, it was banned in Thailand.

January 24, 2000. Ten gunmen from an insurgent group known as God's Army move from the Myanmar jungle across the border into Thailand. They take hundreds of people hostage for 22 hours at a hospital in the border town of Ratchaburi. They are demanding that Thailand stop attacks on Myanmar pro-democracy activists who take sanctuary in Thailand. The rebel group in the Myanmar jungle is reportedly led by twin 12-year-old boys.

October 20, 1999. Speaking at the International Republican Institute's Freedom Award dinner in Washington, D.C., Senator John McCain bestows its 1999 award to Aung San Suu Kyi. Citing the Nobel peace prize winner's "unwavering commitment and courage in th non-violent struggle for democracy and human rights in Burma," he chronicles her lifetime of work. Aung San Suu Kyi, however, is not present at the dinner that honors her. She is in Yangon, Myanmar, a virtual captive in the country she loves.

Earlier this year she made an agonizing choice. The military government refused to grant her cancer-stricken husband a visa to come to Myanmar and visit her for the last time before his death. Political events had caused them to be apart since 1995, but they each accepted the sacrifice that service to her people meant.