Where do their souls go?
After they—well, really, their bodies—are killed or executed or otherwise die due to political persecution, or after they die with heavy hearts because those they love have been oppressed, where do their souls go?
Those souls must be politically restless—in another word, active—souls. Yes, call them “active souls”, as in “active citizens” who are “interested in and involved in social and political issues and activities in their country or community” as the phrase is defined.
They are decent and appreciated souls whom many people, alive or even dead, loved and admired—still love and admire—because they did good deeds, politically and societally, for their nation and people. In that sense, these departed souls are the kind to be admired—just as they were in life—and not feared.
The souls must be countless hovering in and over our country, as the people of Myanmar have confronted—and are still confronting—countless political persecutions and even executions under decades of miliary rule.
As they sacrificed their lives through selfless deeds or duties when their country demanded it, many of these active souls are worthy of the titles “martyr”, “hero”, “freedom fighter”, “resistance fighter”, “prisoner of conscience” and the like.
How about ordinary people, like my mother, who took her last breath conscious that her younger son was serving a lengthy imprisonment as a political prisoner while another was politically exiled? Like her, many mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers who tirelessly supported their family members in prison ended their life with such political consciousness. They are heroes behind the lines.
How about intellectuals like prominent poet Saya Tin Moe, who died in California as an exiled artist, composing verses about his home country and its democracy movement without fail every day until his death? There has been no shortage of Myanmar artists, journalists, and scholars who loved freedom and hated dictatorship who contributed to their society and died in exile after being forced to leave their country due to repeated coups and oppressive rule.
In one uprising alone, known as the ’88 pro-democracy movement, more than 3,000 peaceful protesters were killed by the then junta after it staged a coup in 1988; hundreds of other dissidents have been killed in different anti-regime protests at different times since the military’s first coup in 1962.
Since current coup leader Min Aung Hlaing transformed our beautiful Myanmar into a killing field after the latest coup in 2021, there have been more and more young and brave souls who took to the streets and confronted the junta troops’ automatic rifles and snipers every day.
Kyal Sin, 19, was among the bravest souls. She was fatally shot in the head, right behind her ear, in her hometown of Mandalay a few weeks after the coup. Over the past three years, more than 5,600 people have been killed by the new junta, many in its air strikes, many others killed in its torture chambers and prisons.
They are all much-loved and precious souls.
Among the recent victims was Dr. Zaw Myint Maung, who died in prison last week from leukemia. Amazingly, the 73-year-old political prisoner managed to survive for more than three years in a prison cell with his deadly cancer since his captors, collectively the Myanmar military regime, arrested him on the first day of their coup on Feb. 1, 2021.
At the last minute, his captors showed their classic “clemency.” Junta officials rushed to the hospital just hours before his death to “release” the unconscious politician with a pardon. That’s what the previous military regime used to do when political prisoners were on their death beds.
In 1995, U Kin Sein, one of my fellow inmates in Insein Prison, was released by the then regime just before he died in a hospital, like Dr. Zaw Myint Maung. U Kin Sein, 53, was able to enjoy his “freedom” for a few minutes or hours on his deathbed. What mercy from the generals!
Death is inevitable. But let me say, as a former political prisoner, that a death in prison can be delayed or even avoided if the person is treated properly. In other words, they could survive if the junta had no policy or intention of denying them the proper treatment and letting them die.
If Dr. Zaw Myint Maung had not died as a prisoner but as chief minister of Mandalay, a political position or mandate he had been given by his people in the ancient capital in the 2020 election, his death would have been delayed, or at least very different. Imagine the free man lying on his own bed at home surrounded and taken care of by his beloved family and supporters, showered with love. His soul would even have been happy.
The reality was different: He died alone last week knowing his family was far away, mainly due to the junta’s political persecution of him. Besides, knowing that his people in Mandalay live in fear and his country is again under the military boot, his soul must be politically active or unsettled, though he must also have felt proud for what he contributed to his people and his country’s democratic struggle up until his death.
His story is now part of history. An alumnus of the Mandalay University of Medicine, Dr. Zaw Myint Maung entered politics following the 1988 pro-democracy movement and won four elections in 1990, 2012, 2015 and 2020 representing the National League for Democracy (NLD). As a younger man Dr. Zaw Myint Maung survived his first stint in detention, which lasted nearly 20 years after the previous regime jailed him following the 1990 election.
Since the country’s independence era, many have sacrificed their lives throughout Myanmar’s history. There are too many to name, even among the well-known—independence leader Aung San and his cabinet members were assassinated; later the country’s first president Sao Shwe Thaik is believed to have been killed in prison by the then military regime; Karen leaders Saw Ba U Gyi and Padoh Mahn Sha were killed by the military and pro-junta groups; Muslim lawyer and adviser to then de facto leader Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, U Ko Ni, was assassinated by a nationalist pro-military group; and too many more to name.
Such sacrifices have been endless in our country. That’s why I happened to write the story “Myanmar Is the Country of Great Deaths” in July 2022, after the regime of coup leader Min Aung Hlaing executed four activists—prominent activist Ko Kyaw Min Yu, known as Ko Jimmy; former NLD lawmaker and hip-hop star Ko Phyo Zeya Thaw; and anti-coup protesters Ko Hla Myo Aung and Ko Aung Thura Zaw.
“They died truly great deaths, because they gave their lives: for the people, in order to restore their rights and dignity; for the country, to end the horrific military dictatorship; and for future generations, to rebuild their battered country.”
The lines above are my personal eulogy for all the old and fresh souls who contributed their lives, abilities and intellects to lay a foundation for building a new nation. In fact, Myanmar needs a national eulogy and memorial to them. Without them, Myanmar wouldn’t even have become an independent country.
The battle between the dictatorial generals and Myanmar’s brave people is not over yet. The bitter truth is there will be more active, brave and beautiful souls.
We are all mortal, and will join them one day, by one cause or another.
Their souls, which we will join one day, are immortal.
Read the story in Burmese: ထာဝရ ရှင်သန်နေမယ့် ဝိညာဉ်များ
