The Lady by the Lake

But Mo's eyes suddenly narrowed as his gaze settled on a young couple sitting nearby; he had figured out that the man was from the military. "But people like him, the Army, I hate them ... We cannot be people because of them. I hate them," he repeated. Then he laughed. I asked about the National League for Democracy (NLD) and the elections promised for next year. "With the Lady in prison, what can we do? She is everything to us. Without her, she ..." Mo's words broke off. He winced; his eyes reddened and began to tear. "I'm sorry ... the smoke in here," he said calmly. And laughed again.

These days the roads of Rangoon are filled with motorbikes, Chinese-made bicycles converted to trishaws and ancient Japanese rustbuckets. Occasionally, nearly invisible drivers behind the black tinted windows of brand-new Mercedeses—official cars—roar past as if, well, as if they own the place. As in any dictatorship, only the upper echelons of the military gain from stripping the country of its natural resources. Burma exported US$2.49 billion worth of gas alone in 2008, mainly to member states of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations plus South Korea, Japan and China, the latter of which is currently working on a US$2.5 billion cross-border oil and gas pipeline. Little of that money trickles down. Every shop and market in Rangoon's city center appears to survive hand-to-mouth, while the suburbs languish in a state of decay.

During my current visit, I stopped at a "beer station" restaurant where University Avenue meets the southeastern tip of Inya Lake. Many cops stationed in the area come here for a pint of Myanmar beer and a bite to eat; some slightly more officious-looking men in smart shirts and silk longyis knock back Johnnie Walker Red by the bottle. Just beyond my table a taxi driver, who said his name was Tin, leaned against the door of his car chewing betel nut—a local stimulant—and spitting the blood-red juices onto the road. I asked him about the lifting of the roadblocks. "Oh, yes, they did that last week or so," Tin said. "Aung San Suu Kyi is in prison now, so no need [to block the road]."

Very little seems to be known here about the American named John Yettaw, who is also standing trial, except for the fact that he was arrested for illegally entering Suu Kyi's compound by swimming across Inya Lake. As a result of his actions, she will most likely now be sentenced to another prison term. And without a leader, the pro-democracy opposition party will face serious challenges come election time. Grassroots Burmese are puzzled and disappointed by Yettaw's actions. "When I read about the American swimming to her house I didn't believe it; they often say bad things about her in the newspapers," Min, a university student from Mandalay studying in Rangoon, told me. "I don't understand how anyone would do that."

Min is 25 and says he'll vote for the NLD in the elections next year—if they take place. He said many students are angry about Suu Kyi's fate. "She is the daughter of Gen. Aung San [Burma's postwar independence leader]. He wanted freedom for the people, and so does she," he said emphatically. "I hate our government."

People talk about her final court hearing and sentencing—which could come as soon as the end of the month—as a foregone conclusion. In a downtown teahouse, I asked a retired schoolteacher how he thinks Suu Kyi's trial will affect the elections slated for 2010. "Well, the government was going to win anyway," said the teacher, who'd been educated by Christian missionaries. Asking not to be named in print because he feared retaliation, he said he was an NLD member, but sees very little hope for change in the wake of the 2007 crackdown, and especially now. "That American did no good," he said. "But now it's too late."

Suu Kyi, her two live-in aides and Yettaw await the verdicts. A decade ago, two British pro-democracy activists were arrested in Burma. In 1999, Rachel Goldwyn was suddenly released after serving two months of a seven-year sentence; in 2000, James Mawdsley was released after serving 14 months of a 17-year sentence. Yettaw may face a similar fate.

As for Suu Kyi and her aides, it's more than likely they'll receive prison sentences. Burma watchers guess she could get five years. But with mounting international pressure, that may be reduced by the military government to show its "magnanimity." However, one thing seems more than certain: if the regime goes ahead with elections in 2010, it will try to ensure yet another vote in which Aung San Suu Kyi, and the National League for Democracy that she heads, have virtually no chance at victory.

© 2009