Letter from Burma (No. 8) by Aung San Suu Kyi

Mainichi Daily News
Monday, January 15, 1995

Burmese Are Always Ready to Celebrate a Festival
"Christmas in Rangoon"

Burmese people love festivals. There is something to celebrate every month of the year. There are the better known festivals such as Thingyan (the water festival) in April and Thidingyut (the light festival) in October as well as lesser known ones such as that connected with the religious examinations held for monks. In spite of the large number of our own festivals we are not averse to celebrating those of other countries and cultures. Whether it is the Muslim /id/ or the Hindu /divali/ or Chinese New Year or Christmas, the Burmese are quite ready to take part in the fun and feasting.

When I was a child there used to be Christmas fairs in aid of various charities where Santa Claus, sweltering in his full regalia of thick red robes and flowing white cotton wool beard, would be in charge of the lucky dip counter. At one of those fairs I won a bottle of whiskey, which was then a rare and expensive object. Of course to me it was a total disappointment as I had been hoping for a toy or at least a packet of sweets, and I was thoroughly puzzled by the number of old men (at least they seemed old to me then) who congregated to congratulate me on my great good fortune. My mother advised me to give away the bottle to one of the enthusiastic throng around me, which I did willingly, but I could not understand why the recipient was so effusive in his thanks. The whole incident somewhat diminished my faith both in lucky dips and in adult taste.

Christmas in Rangoon is not yet quite the commercial festival it has become in many of the larger cities of Asia. But there is an increasing selection of Christmas decorations, all made in Asian countries, and Christmas cakes on sale during the season. Christmas is seen as a time for eating together and exchanging gifts in an atmosphere of mutual good will, whether or not one belongs to the Christian faith.

Carol singing is an activity which instantly recalls pictures of rosy cheeked children and hearty adults, all wrapped in thick coats with colorful scarves wound around their necks, standing under a Victorian lamp amidst a gentle swirl of snowflakes. Thick coats, woolly scarves, Victorian lamps and snowflakes are not part of any Christmas scene in Rangoon, but here too we have carol singers, usually groups collecting for charity.

A carol singing group which has been coming to our house every Christmas since my mother was alive is from a Christian institution for the blind. Last week they came again after a gap of six years. The blind singers and guitarist were led by three or four sighted persons as they made their rounds, part of the way on foot and part of the way on public buses. By the time they reached our house it was late in the afternoon, but their voices were still strong and fresh as they sang of peace and joy and goodwill among men. Later we talked over coffee and sesame crisps and I learnt that the sighted members were themselves children of blind parents and that there were in the institution several blind couples with young children, none of whom suffered from any visual defects. It sounded as though the inmates were on large family, no doubt with the usual quota of family difficulties but quietly determined to lead a full, independent life.

The next day came another group of carol singers from an international organization. They too were collecting for charity and among them were many non-Christians. The day had been warm and there were a large number of outsized mosquitos swooping and attacking with the swift aggression of dive-bombers. The song of Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer in cold, snowy Santa Claus country sounded a little surreal under the circumstances but it did not detract from the seasonal cheer.

Because they knew my sons were coming, friends had commandeered from other friends a potted plant (perhaps a species of Chamaecyparis?) That approximated to a Christmas tree "for the children" and decorated it with lights and baubles. We produced presents to pile at the foot of the tree and on Christmas day itself gave lunch to all our regular helpers, numbering about 100. After giving out the presents, we had a lucky dip. In remembrance of the time when I had been so disappointed by the bottle of whisky, I had chosen prizes which were entirely different. The best one was an "executive stress tester" which proved immensely popular. Of all those who tried it out to see who had nerves of steel we discovered that two young men who came from a part of Rangoon known for its strong political traditions did best. They were careful and steady and had tremendous powers of concentration. Such are obviously the qualities necessary for those who wish to pursue politics in Burma. Let us hope the New Year will bring the right atmosphere of goodwill in which these qualities will be allowed to flower.

(This article is one of a year-long series of letters, the Japanese translation of which appears in the Mainichi Shimbun the same day, or the previous day in some areas.)