When Nyi Nyi was brought from the interrogation center to Insein Prison, he was placed in an eight-by-ten-foot cell. He heard no voices or other sounds from the surrounding cells, so he knew he was alone. His only regular interaction was with the prison guards who brought him food.
One morning, a guard came in and Nyi Nyi started talking to him. “Why do you stay here?” he asked. “Why do you wear that uniform?”
The guard answered, “I do it to feed my family.”
“There are more important things than just surviving,” Nyi Nyi said. “Survival is what animals want. But we’re humans, and we’re intelligent. We should want something more, like freedom and dignity and to do what’s right.”
The guard listened but said he was too scared to disobey the government: “I can’t lose this job. I have to keep my family safe.” After that conversation, though, the guard began sneaking Nyi Nyi extra food.
Nyi Nyi was grateful to have a toilet and running water. He remembered the time he had spent in Insein as a student demonstrator in 1988. At least things had improved since then. And he was finally allowed a visit from the US consul, who sent word to Wa Wa that Nyi Nyi was alive.
After a month, Nyi Nyi was moved to an older section of the prison, built when the British colonized Burma in the 19th century. These cells didn’t have flushing toilets, and the whole place stank.
There was one bright spot—Nyi Nyi was now surrounded by other prisoners, and he used the opportunity to tell them about his democracy efforts. Each day he spoke for at least 15 minutes about a different topic, loudly enough so he could be heard through the cell walls. And each morning he posed a new question, such as “What is the meaning of power?” and “What is the meaning of fear?” In the afternoons they would discuss their answers.
Nyi Nyi told his fellow prisoners that even though they were locked up, they could use the time productively. On December 6, he announced he was going on a hunger strike to symbolize the Burmese people’s hunger for freedom and justice. He encouraged the others to join him, if only for a few hours.
That night, guards moved him back into solitary confinement as punishment for the hunger strike, this time in a building that housed military dogs. He was locked in his cell nearly 24 hours a day, listening to constant barking.
Wa Wa often had nightmares about Nyi Nyi. In one, she dreamed he needed medical treatment and was injected with a dirty needle. She woke up in a panic and e-mailed the US consul to make sure Nyi Nyi hadn’t received any shots. The response terrified her: Nyi Nyi was on an IV glucose drip because he wasn’t eating. Wa Wa knew that doctors in Burmese prisons sometimes reused old needles, and she worried Nyi Nyi would contract HIV.
After another restless night, Wa Wa got up early to take the Metro ride from Gaithersburg to Capitol Hill. It was December 15—three days before the congressional recess—and by 9:30 Wa Wa and Schwanke were racing through the halls of the Rayburn House Office Building on the south side of the Capitol, going door-to-door to each representative’s office. The letter to the Burmese government urging Nyi Nyi’s release had been completed the day before with the help of House staffers whom Genser had recruited into the effort.
Democratic representative Howard Berman, chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, and Virginia Republican representative Frank Wolf were the lead signers. Schwanke had e-mailed the letter to the 433 other representatives along with a note asking them to add their signatures. As a final effort to attract support for the letter, she and Wa Wa were on the Hill to recruit signers in person.
Genser saw Wa Wa as an important asset. In previous cases, he and other Freedom Now lawyers had had to work the Hill themselves to win over busy congressional staffers. Because Wa Wa was local, she could advocate for Nyi Nyi herself, and Genser was sure that staffers would have a harder time turning her away.
At each office, Wa Wa and Schwanke asked to speak with the representative’s foreign-policy legislative aide. In most cases, receptionists politely told Wa Wa the aides were unavailable, so she left hand-written notes.
But every so often she got lucky. At Representative Bobby Rush’s office, the foreign-policy aide couldn’t talk, but the legislative director—a higher-level staffer—could.
Wa Wa explained Nyi Nyi’s story, trying to cram every detail into the few minutes the legislative director could spare. She brought out photos of her and Nyi Nyi. One showed them vacationing in London in matching raincoats.
After reading the letter, the legislative director said he thought the congressman would be willing to sign it. It was a small victory but progress nonetheless.
Wa Wa and Schwanke visited more than 60 offices that day. Schwanke, Genser, and other volunteers made more than 800 phone calls to congressional offices before the December 18 deadline for sending the letter. Genser’s goal had been to convince 40 to 50 members to sign. The letter was sent with 53 signatures from representatives to Senior General Than Shwe, leader of the Burmese regime.
Or search editors' lists
I would like to receive the following free email newsletters:
