Undercover in Myanmar

By Kwanwoo Jun

       SUNNYSIDE, New York - This is about my traumatic experience I have rarely shared with others so far.

       I was assigned to cover the cyclone-hit Myanmar during the summer two years ago. The mission was for me to sneak into the military-ruled Southeast Asian nation “as a tourist” and report on the disaster undercover as long as possible.

The Myanmar government then imposed a strict media blackout in a bid to cover up its incompetent crisis management. It banned Western journalists from entering the country but issued tourist visas to Asians like me.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” my editor told me. “But it’s true that the company needs someone there to cover the story that is growing bigger.”

   The editor warned me of the possible danger of journalists being detained and repatriated home by the Myanmar authorities for reporting undercover.

After all, I decided to go and spent 10 days in Myanmar.

INSOMNIA & PARANOIA

    In Myanmar, I suffered from severe insomnia and paranoia.

In bed at night, I often dreamed of being caught or jailed. Traveling around the suburban areas of Yanggon, I always felt like being followed by someone secretly.

   Adding to my paranoia was editors’ repeated warning against using local telephone lines, which were tapped for sure. They also told me to exercise a maximum amount of caution when I used my laptop-sized satellite phone. The equipment was always hidden in the ceiling of my hotel room when not in use.

   My heart was always pounding thunderously during the satellite transmissions of stories. Extreme fear, anxiety and nervousness haunted me. On hearing any footsteps on the hallway outside my hotel room, I would cut off satellite transmissions halfway.

MISERY

I felt increasingly depressed by reporting on the miserable and destitute conditions in which Myanmar people – dead, sick or alive – were thrown. They were all abandoned and unattended despite an acute need for help.

I often felt anger to see the government do nothing. People were dying. Some of them I interviewed were shivering in cold, crouching and sleeping in rain. Kids suffered from hunger but severe diarrhea due to little food and contaminated water.

I began seeing dead bodies floating in the river. Editors always wanted me to try to go deeper into the cyclone-hit delta region, hoping to check if thousands of dead bodies were still unattended as claimed by local civic groups.

But armed soldiers already sealed off the area.

PANIC

Tips often came into my ears that some journalists had been in police custody after trying to sneak into the delta area. I myself witnessed a Western journalist was singled out from a crowd of locals on a bus heading for the area.

After a week or so, I got also caught - for the second time - loitering around the area. I was panic. There was something different in the air.  Police took me to a nearby police station. Police radioed a message to somewhere. A plainclothes military officer showed up and intensively interrogated me for about an hour. Two armed soldiers were with him.

The officer kept asking me what I had been doing there, and I kept claiming that I, a tourist, had gone astray there. He took my passport, recorded detailed information on me and took a few mug shots of me as if he handles a criminal.

I was scared that I might be detained. All I could do was nervously fumbling with a small paper note inscribed with a phone number of the consulate in my pocket.

Luckily, I was released from their custody. I received my passport back but also a warning that I would be in jail if I get caught once again. After changing my hotels several times in the next few days, I managed to get out of the country at dawn.

MEMORY BACK TO LIFE

I’m not sure how much my experience in Myanmar had affected (or traumatized) me. I’ve reported no major problem working afterwards. But I have to admit that some of the experiences remain strong in my mind and never get away. They sometimes come back to me in grim visuals and dreary feelings for no particular reason.