Leaving Myanmar: See you later and not Goodbye

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 agreed upon for the following week on Wednesday, March 17th. 

The following day was a very tough one: l must have cried many times, not from relief, but terrible sadness at what had happened and what was to continue. I cried because l had been through too much with this country and l did not want to leave it. I wanted to continue the work l had started because l realized the value of it and felt unbearable bitterness towards those thugs and criminals who had brought an end to it all. 

My remaining days in Myanmar were spend packing, organizing, and trying to meet people before l left which was something of a bizarre ritual in itself. When meeting in a coup you need a good sense of timing which involves anticipating what the security forces will do next, when, and if you can safely get around your township. I lived in Sanchaung which is one of the main crackdown areas, so you can imagine simple trips became thought out strategies in your mind of how to get to places.