Until the End of the World

It was after the door-to-door raids of my township, Sanchaung, coupled with messages from friends urging me to leave that prompted me to get on a relief flight and leave Myanmar. The initial push was not being able to work and sitting alone in my apartment contributing little of any worth, only listening to gunshots and intimidation. My students were out protesting and the university was closed, previously opened only to provide support to protesters and later a place to hide from the security forces. The final one came in the form of a notification from the British Embassy in Yangon strongly advising that we leave the country as soon as possible. It is needless to say I did not want to go but the situation appeared to be only getting worse and showed little sign of lessening any time soon.  I contacted my boss, on Facebook, of course, and told him l wished to leave, explained why and then he offered to book my relief flight. He checked the available flights and within an hour one was

#Mar12Coup  The following is an extract from a statement made by Thomas H. Andrews, UN Special Rapporteur on the situation on human rights in Myanmar to the United Nations Human Rights Council, 11th March 2021.  "Madame President, if we accept that there is a strong likelihood that the Myanmar junta is engaged in atrocity crimes against its own people right now, as we sit here, what do we do about it? Knowing, as we do, the price of international inaction , what action must be taken immediately? Yesterday, the UN Security Council released a statement expressing their deep concern about developments in Myanmar. They condemned the violence against peaceful protesters and expressed continued support for a democratic transition. These words are welcome. But, they are wholly insufficient ." It is the words 'knowing, as we do, the price of international inaction' that resonated with me most in a response to yet another tepid statement released by the president of the Secur

 Went out this morning. The streets were relatively quiet with neighbors having coffee and light meals at my local caf where the same monk sits and stares into the road in contemplative silence, occasionally lighting a cigarette. Older men gather on street corners exchanging information and some relive the days' previous horrors on their phones where the screams and gunshots crackle from speakers whilst young and old alike nervously walk up and down the street heading back home or to the market to buy fresh produce from stalls.  Today was the first-morning l have been out since... l can't remember, ah yes yesterday. Time in a pandemic and a coup tends to move ever swiftly onwards but you, well you have lost your anchor your structure, your everyday. I sat at the caf on the corner opposite my street for the first time since l moved to Myanmar (a year) and stared vacantly into space drinking a very small paper cup of instant coffee. The monk is in his usual place casually smoking