Clap your hands

“ARE you happy?” a young Karen woman asked me. She looked elated. She had made a seven-hour bus journey from Yangon to Hpa'an, to celebrate Kayin State Day with her boyfriend. Her question would be put to me again and again by others, young and old. Then they would eagerly explain that for them, as for the young woman, this was the first time in their lives they felt able to join the annual festival without fear.

Many thousands flocked to the fair ground in Hpa’an, the state capital. Most were Karen, one of the largest and most dispersed of Myanmar's ethnic minorities. Some had come back from exile in Thailand, others from farther afield.

Travel has become safer since 2012, when Myanmar’s government signed ceasefires with insurgent groups such as the Karen National Union (KNU), whose armed wing, the Karen National Liberation Army, had fought non-stop for 65 years against the the army of Myanmar—or Burma, as it was. They had hoped to win an independent homeland.

Today's partygoers jostled their way through a maze of stalls selling traditional medicines, clothes, toy rifles and delicacies such as crispy-fried insects, and sticky coconut rice roasted in bamboo. On stage children performed traditional dances, cheered on by enthusiastic crowds (pictured above).

At nightfall long queues formed in front of muscle-powered Ferris wheels. Teams of acrobatic young men gave the wheels momentum by climbing swiftly around the huge wooden frames. Every time they swung the gondolas, their passengers screamed in cheerful fright.

The presence of some police and a few soldiers seemed not to scare the merrymakers. Among the crowds it was even possible to spot an old man wearing a T-shirt with the portrait of Ba U Gyi, the father of the Karen resistance, and his famous slogan: “We will never surrender.” Just a year or so ago, wearing such a T-shirt would have brought the man immediate arrest.

The government has stopped censoring books and other media before publication, the Karen language is allowed to be used in schools, and the call is raised for a revival of Karen culture. 

In the booth of the Myanmar Writers’ Association however, only a very small collection of books was on display, all of them published in the Burmese language. To inspire the Karen to greatness, the wall was hung with a giant banner showing portraits of famous people of Karen descent. Most were unknown to the passers-by, let alone the outside world. But they included U Thant, a former UN Secretary-General, and Aung San Suu Kyi, whose mother was part-Karen. 

Conspicuously absent were most of the old guard of KNU heroes. On November 4th and 5th its present leaders, together with those of another 17 ethnic groups, attended historic talks with the central government in Myitkina, the capital of Kachin state.

The talks failed from the government's point of view, in so far as a nationwide ceasefire agreement never materialised. But the parties agreed to resume talks in Hpa’an in December. The government wants to delay a political dialogue until after the ceasefire is signed. The ethnic groups want to talk politics first.

One of the sticking points is their demand that their fighters be absorbed into a federal army. Government figures put the number of soldiers in the insurgent armies at 200,000; independent observers reckon it is probably half that. Since any such absorption would mean the rebels keeping their arms, the condition has been unacceptable to the government. (Though it may have signalled flexibility on November 14th, when the minister of the president's office said that "an armed forces that is in conformity with the federal union".) There are other problems besides: the Myanmar army's commander-in-chief and regional commanders are not taking part; and there is still fighting on some fronts, notably with the Kachins.

Developments in Myitkyina were keenly followed in Hpa’an by Daphne, an 83-year-old teacher, who still takes classes daily in her perfect British English. Like many Karen, she both distrusts the Burmese and maintains a critical attitude towards the KNU. “You know what they stand for?” she laughs mischievously: “Karen Never Unite”.  Commercial disputes and infighting, often manipulated by the Burmese, have split the KNU into five factions. At times they have fought each other even as they were fighting the Burmese.

The KNU has done well out of legitimate border trade, as well as by smuggling, logging and charging road tolls. So has the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army (DKBA), which split from the mainly Christian-led KNU in 1994 and signed a ceasefire with the government. The DKBA also has a lucrative sideline in the illicit-drugs trade.

The money is visible in Hpa’an, which has doubled in size over the past five years. In Hpa’an, Major Shee Sho of the KNU’s liaison office complains that development is moving too fast. Many Karen are tempted to sell their land to members of other nationalities, and there are many reports of land-grabbing. The major is worried that in the long term they will lose all their land.

Businessmen flock to his office eager to be first in queue for the rich resources of the KNU-controlled border areas. Just the other day Chinese businessmen had asked about investing in a gold mine. The KNU cannot make decisions about such matters at the moment, Mr Shee Sho said.

The KNU has, however, earned some dividends from the peace process. For example it has been granted import-licences for cars (with number plates that limit them to movement within Kayin State); a site for a factory in a special economic zone outside Hpa’an; and a licence to open a tour company of its own.

But the old ways die hard in the new Myanmar. The army still has a huge stake in the economy, especially in the border areas. Photo exhibitions at the fairground showed the familiar men in green opening infrastructure projects and factories. Army-run conglomerates own two cement factories that spew their black smoke over the city. And not everyone at the celebrations was happy. “As long as our Karen flag is hoisted next to the Myanmar flag I won’t attend these celebrations”, said Daphne, the teacher. “It is all just a show.”

(Picture credit: I.S. / The Economist)