The Burmese Military apologizes.

Today, while sifting through the news on Irrawaddy and the SHAN Herald, I saw one that struck me. Recently in a staff meeting at Partners, one person lamented the destruction of the new peace agreement already.

You see, on May 19, the Shan State Army and the Union Peacemaking Work Committee (UPWC - the representatives of the Burmese government) came to what I would have called impossible nine months ago: an agreement, not merely to stop fighting as they had decided in December (with many skirmishes anyway), but to begin working toward a new future (see: The 12 Point Agreement). Everyone cheered, and there was a sense of breathless excitement (and also fear that it would all turn out to be a sham, because I think nobody ever loses that fear) among those of us working in Shan State, while waiting to see what the follow through would look like.

Four days later, the follow-through appeared to be more fighting.

And so this staff member lamented that the peace deal lasted a mere three days. That it was over.

Hearing those words really pained me deeply, and I went back to my room that night and remember feeling strongly that we, especially outsiders and guests, could not be the first to give up. If no official media was announcing that the peace agreement had already fallen apart, we had to be those that held it up in the greatest hope. I believe, we must be the last to despair and the first to hope, no matter how audacious, because truly no good can come without hope. That was Monday.

Today, Wednesday, I discovered the unthinkable: an apology  from the Burmese Army and a decree that went out to all its troops to cease hostilities toward the SSA. An apology!

Please be as excited as I am about this historic event. It's not perfect, but it's enough to keep hope alive. Nobody is ready to give up on the push for peace in the region, therefore I will not despair.

Maybe, just maybe, the time is coming when we can stand beside our Shan sisters and brothers in every way possible in the enormous efforts of rebuilding communities after decades of war. There's so much work ahead, but I wait expectantly for the day when we will be allowed to begin this work.

It's a failed system, not an isolated event.

First of all, thank you, everyone, for how much attention you have given Tsam Hurng over the last couple days. I did not imagine that response. Thankfully, I have also been sent several sources of numbers, so I can correct my statement about the under-five mortality rate.

Thankfully the numbers I had previously read were based on much older figures, and all the work of clinics on the border regions does appear to be making a difference, though the numbers are still quite horrible. The current mortality rate for children under the age of five in Eastern Burma is 138 for every 1,000 births. Taken this way, a child born in Eastern Burma (technically this is not limited to only the border regions, but the study focused largely on the border regions) has close to a 14% likelihood of not making it to his/her fifth birthday. These numbers are from "Diagnosis Critical: Health and Human Rights in Burma" ( http://maetaoclinic.org/publications/health-and-human-rights, click on "Diagnosis Critical" to review the document), who used many of WHO's finding and some original research.

As a point of comparison, babies born in the rest of Burma have only 66 deaths before the age of five to ever 1,000 births, meaning about 6.6% This number should still horrify you, as Thailand has only 14/1,000 (1.4%), and the USA has 8/1,000 (0.8%), and Norway has 3/1,000 (0.3%) (see http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SH.DYN.MORT).

If you're not a numbers sort of person, I realize this post may not be the most compelling post ever. However, the point is, Tsam Hurng died because of a failing system, not in an isolated event. Poor maternal nutrition weakened him before he was ever born. His mother says that all her babies used to be born healthy, but since she had to flee her village (due to the war), she has never had quite enough food or the right food.

Moreover, the medics and doctors at our clinic have to tell mothers on a regular basis that there is absolutely nothing that can be done for the child who was born blind. Usually the cause was a virus, like measles, that the mother caught while pregnant, a virus that probably every one of my readers was vaccinated against as a baby. When a mother comes in with a blind child, I feel very grateful for my role as teacher, not doctor, because the job of telling this mother, who thought the clinic was the final bit of hope for her child, that nothing can be done is terrible. There's no school for the blind here. A blind child most likely has a very difficult future ahead of him/her. We need vaccines, but a quality vaccination program is difficult, complicated, and expensive. There are plans, but it's baby steps at a time.

So, please, choose to see these kinds of stories in their context. We're working in a land that will take decades to recover from the war that has ravaged it for decades, if that war finally ends. So please look at Partners' website (http://www.partnersworld.org/). Maybe you can get involved.

When child mortality rates take on flesh and skin...

Back in November, those of us staying in the village experienced what felt like a miracle. On vaccination day, a mother with an eight day old baby showed up at the clinic. The baby weighed only 1.2 kg and looked like a skeleton. The mother reported he had been born tiny (possibly a few weeks premature but not much) and was refusing milk. Thankfully, at that time, a Norwegian midwife was with us, and while the rest of us could at best make recommendations (a doctor present even nervously considered the pros and cons of putting a feeding tube into this small baby), Liv provided concrete help to the mother, working with her on how to extract her milk and put it into the very weak baby, who simply was not strong enough to latch onto the breasts.

Two weeks later, the baby was still alive. Still small, still weak, but alive and struggling to live. The mom appeared tired, but she did nothing else in the day but attend to this child, and the baby lived.

Then the baby made it to the one month mark, which is important in Shan culture, because he received a name: Tsam Hurng. He was a live, and he had put on another 100 grams, and he weighed 1.6 kg, still far too small, but he was making it.

Then in February, I went to visit the mom and baby again and was amazed by what I saw: a healthy, thriving little boy with an extraordinarily devoted mother. I sent these photos to Liv, the Norwegian midwife, and felt so proud to have witnessed something so good and extraordinary happen. I thanked God.

Then yesterday I received a phone call from my Shan brother (I'm in Chiang Mai right now, waiting on a work permit). Tsam Hurng had caught chickenpox and died.

Everyone had worked so hard to watch this child live and grow to be a man. His mother had devoted herself to him, and he had seemingly come out of the woods and was okay.

But he died. From chickenpox.

I feel angry at the injustice. Children living on the Thai-Burma border have terrible mortality rates. Unfortunately, I cannot find an online source for the actual mortality rate, but I've seen in print anywhere between 1/3 and 2/5 children die before their fifth birth.

As I share the joy with many Shan friends of mine who are about to have babies or just had theirs, I feel the shadow of the mortality rates. I suspect they're a little better in the village where I live, because we do have a clinic with a mother-baby department that works tirelessly to combat many common causes of death in children. Still, Tsam Hurng reminds me of how far from perfect the situation is.

Please pray for and remember Tsam Hurng's family, and do not forget Burma. Do not think for one moment the struggle for the ethnic regions is over. Some things are improving, but the work is just beginning. And some places, like Kachin State, still wait to see any improvement from the government changes.

America, please reign in the optimism...

A gold rush of massive proportions for all the natural resources and business opportunities will likely begin... now. I want economic development for this country, more than words can say, and I wish I could simply rejoice at the news of new opportunities. Reality and history, however, tell me that business in Burma has often been born on the shoulders of ethnic slave labor and horrific oppression. Today I grieve the decision of my country.

President Obama, why did you lift the ban so quickly and with so few restrictions? Did you not hear the thousands of people who have been abused, displaced, tortured, and even murdered thus far in the name of economic development?

http://uscampaignforburma.wordpress.com/2012/05/17/dangerous-optimism/

Burma is changing

I increasingly find it difficult to write here. Oftentimes I cannot tell every interesting story I encounter, as I would like to, because they involve real people who have real stakes in the world. I'd like to tell you about the guy I know who has gone to Yangon in hopes of applying for a passport so that he can study, but that will have to suffice. I'd like to tell you about the girls I know, who are trying to decide when the right time to return their villages is and how best to use their medical skills. I want to tell you the stories that these one-liners encompass, but all I can give you are on the one-liners... which is nothing. But they do show something: people are thinking about going home. People are gaining rights.

And then there's the generalities. It used to be so much easier to talk about the facts of life in Burma, but now... no fact remains steadfast. Everything is changing so rapidly. Two words describe the situation better than anything else I know: hope and fear. And I suppose I can only write on the juxtapose position of these two ideas in the day to day reality so many times, before you know what I'm wanting to say even before I put it on paper. We wait, and we pray.

Please do not misunderstand me. Life in Burma in the ethnic areas is yet to be "good." BUT life in Burma is changing. There's a real (albeit still small) NLD presence in parliament, who will create a very public opposition to the old military rule. Outsiders are being very hesitantly invited in to do NGO work. The ceasefires are not instantaneously disintegrating, though they're not necessarily being followed quite ideally either. And people are beginning to talk about what they would do if... if they have freedom, if a real democracy rises out of these murky waters, if they can go home.

My own hopes and dreams are changing... because Burma is changing. I have this new dream of putting my Shan language skills to use in its own homeland.

Sometimes a few of the more skeptical people around me remind to keep a reign on my optimism. I don't know if I'm honestly optimistic or merely hopeful. I hope. I don't know if I believe yet, but I hope. And that's what keeps the possibility of a better reality alive. It's the only thing worth writing about that I have said for the last five months, and I don't intend to stop: I hope.