From Pariah to Prom Queen - New Myanmar (1)

Yangon, Myanmar, June 2012

I’m standing at the immigration counter at Yangon Airport, exuding my much-practiced cool, calm and collected persona as an unsmiling dominatrix in an unflattering polyester pants-suit examines my passport.

My friend Phil, at the counter beside me, is also a picture of nonchalance and, I might add, elegance in his smart new traveling slacks.

But my Zen-like appearance is a façade, a defense mechanism to try to suppress the horrific realization that I am on the verge of one of my rare but catastrophic nervous outbursts – characterized by fits of highly inappropriate hysterical laughter.

“You been Myanmar before,” asks the dominatrix. I nod my head, aware that if I open my mouth I will guffaw loudly or erupt into giggles aka Mary Tyler Moore in the ‘Chuckles the Clown’ funeral episode.

“You stay less than 30 days, yes,” she continues. I nod again, in a state of barely controllable dismay that my brain will not register the fact that this is a serious, not side-splittingly funny situation.

Ms. Polyester scans my passport then moves forward in her chair. I brace myself for a sharp slap across the face ahead of the arrival of six armed men who will escort me to the deportation room, torture me and send me back to Thailand on the next plane.

Instead, she hands over my stamped passport, smiles and says, “Welcome to Myanmar.”

Now I want to break down, sob and give her a big hug. “Just go, Craig, just go,” the most sensible of the many voices inside my head – did I mention that I can also see dead people? – commands.

I hadn’t anticipated this reaction. The paranoia, verging on panic, that for years this erstwhile totalitarian state run by a brutal junta responsible for appalling human rights abuses and suppression of its people could induce. Did I just have an anxiety attack? 

For the past 10 years, Phil, a newspaper journo, and I have been on a blacklist, dubbed “enemies of the state” and banned from visiting Myanmar, along with thousands of others, for articles we have written or television stories we have produced critical of the regime.

Now, with the political reform process underway, we’ve been allowed back in, although our ‘connection’ in Bangkok deflated out euphoric little party pants dance balloon upon being granted visas, with the caveat that “you may still be turned back upon arrival.”

Hence our relief at actually making it in.

There’s a lot of euphoria about the “New Myanmar”. The country has suddenly been catapulted from Despised Pariah to Miss Popularity and EVERYONE wants to dance with Southeast Asia’s newly crowned Prom Queen.

Sanctions have come down, foreign investors are lining up, Aung San Suu Kyi – on her international tour – is drawing bigger crowds than Coldplay, political protesters who fled into exile are returning.

Everyone is getting ready to get their piece of the pie, play their role and, in some cases, blow their own trumpets** – in what, to be fair, most certainly is a radically changing and reforming nation, the likes of which nobody could have imagined just two years ago.

But, first things first, folks.

Roll up your sleeves ‘cause there are a few obstacles ahead. Let’s start with the basics, including the fact there is no infrastructure, telecommunications are byzantine and for the most part, nothing works.

Censorship has been partially abolished, creating a freer media, and ‘expert’ commentators are hailing a new “social media revolution.” Maybe. But given Internet penetration is still less than 1 percent of the population, the so-called revolution, so far, is among an elitist minority.

But like all things in Burma – oh I still it call it that, I mean Myanmar – the statistics can be deceptive. Artists, writers, comedians, hip-hopsters, journalists have for decades been protesting the brutal military junta and advocating for change in various ways. Now they’re going digital.

To be continued: Up Next: Tourism: Boats, Booze and Bicycles

** A password-protected list of trumpet-blowers will be included at the end of this blog entry but only a selected few will have access to it.