Helping Hands

By SHWE YOE

The barber has a foreign customer today, a European member of an international nongovernmental agency working in Rangoon. Johnny is his name, and he falls into conversation with another, local customer, Htun Htun.

Htun Htun recently returned from the US to join in the relief effort for survivors of Cyclone Nargis, so the two have much in common.

“I’ve just returned from the Irrawaddy delta, where I saw a German NGO delivering food to villages without getting the approval of the authorities,” he said. “They claimed their relief effort was a big success.”

“The delta has been flooded with NGOs and foreign aid workers, all with their own agendas,” said Johnny. “I find it quite scary—it’s no wonder the generals are so concerned.”

The barber joined the conversation, drawing the attention of his two customers to a report on remarks by Burma’s home affairs minister. “He doesn’t trust any of you,” he smiled. “You’re all CIA lackeys and puppets of the US. He knows everything you were up to in the delta.”

“We Europeans, as well?” said Johnny. “Even we don’t trust America. We have more faith in Than Shwe than in the Americans.”

The barber warmed to the subject and stepped in, with his usual note of irony: “Sure, they’re aware that you were working for exile-based groups before and that you’ve moved here because funds are drying up abroad and are flowing in here. You’re just moving where the grass is greener.”

Htun Htun protested: “I came back from exile to help my people and I see foreigners who claim they also want to help the Burmese.

“There’s certainly space for us. If we can expand this space and work from within maybe we will be able to push for change.”

Johnny nodded his agreement. “Yes, that’s the reason I moved in here as a consultant— to access the situation in the delta and elsewhere. People are dying and hungry and we are going to help them. We have to work on poverty alleviation, to tackle HIV/Aids, TB and malaria. The whole nation is in need.”

Barber smiled at them. “You guys are funny. The Burmese don’t expect a lot from their government because they know it is hopeless to expect anything at all from Than Shwe. And the people in the delta aren’t expecting anything, either, from donors and INGOs, whom they don’t even know exist outside. Yet I found NGOs and UN agencies begging for money. You all seem to be looking to make money from crisis and related projects.”

“But do you think Than Shwe doesn’t know you are here?” intervened the barber. “He has been watching you all along.”

The exchange was interrupted by the entry of another foreigner, an American by his appearance and accent. He sat and listened as the barber and his two other customers resumed their conversation, and when the talk turned to projects and proposals he broke in: “I sent a proposal of my own to Washington and it’s just been approved.”

“And what’s the proposal?” asked the barber, as Johnny and Htun Htun looked on.

The muscular American replied: “To assassinate Than Shwe. It will cost one million dollars but the money’s on its way.”

Johnny and Htun Htun looked alarmed and made for the door.

“Hey, wait a minute, don’t forget to pay, my friends,” said the barber.

“How much?” Johnny asked.

“Ten dollars each,” the barber answered.

The duo looked shocked. “Dollars?” protested Johnny.

“You’re both on a dollar economy,” said the barber. “I live in Burma, on the local economy. I’m poor and need your healing hands.”

“God bless you,” added the American, and with that the conversation was over.