Aung San Suu Kyi (10 page)

After Myitkyina it was only a question of time before the British would regain control of the whole country, and in Rangoon Aung San carried on talks with Let Ya, Ba Maw, Ne Win, and the other nationalists about when would be the right time to use their weapons against the Japanese. In November 1943 Maj. Hugh Paul Seagrim, who was organizing the resistance among the Karen people in eastern Burma on behalf of the Allies, reported to his superiors that “a certain” Aung San from Burma's nationalist army was planning on turning his forces against the Japanese when the time was right. Yet it was not until March 1945 that Aung San deployed his troops against the Japanese, and by then the war was in principle already won.

In May 1945 Aung San traveled to the Allied headquarters in Meiktila to meet Gen. William Slim. He was dressed in exactly the same clothes as when he had come to Burma with the Japanese forces three years earlier, in a Japanese uniform with a sword fastened at his belt. His appearance awoke a great deal of attention among the Allied troops, but General Slim came to like the strange little man now standing in front of him and claiming to represent the entire Burmese nation. He described him as honest and prudent, a person who would keep his word if he agreed to any action.

The Bamar joined the Allies in their enterprise and drove out the Japanese the same way they had first come, over the mountains of the Karen in eastern Burma.

In the summer of 1942 observant inhabitants of Rangoon could see a couple slowly rowing out on the shiny waters of Lake Inya. He was wearing a uniform, and she a longyi and a white blouse, although sometimes she wore the white uniform of a nurse. They used to row out there on Sundays, and on other occasions they took long walks to get to know each other. They talked almost nonstop, about politics, the war, the country's social problems—and their love.

He was already a well-known person in the Burmese capital. Everybody knew who Aung San was. He had led the freedom movement and was celebrated as the architect behind the flight of the British. He was twenty-seven years old and already a national hero.

Her name was Khin Kyi, and she worked as a nurse at Rangoon General Hospital. During a brief period in the spring of 1942 Aung San had been admitted to the hospital with a raging fever, probably malaria contracted during the long march through the jungle. The doctors and nurses were of course aware of their patient's importance, and several of the younger nurses hardly dared to go near where he lay in bed in one of the wards. However, Khin Kyi did not bother at all about the reputation of her patient. “She handled Aung San with firmness, tenderness, and good humor,” according to Aung San Suu Kyi's description of her parents' first encounter.

Khin Kyi was three years older than Aung San, but it is obvious that they resembled each other in many ways. Both were politically active. Khin Kyi had already been involved in the Women's Freedom League, even before the war. It was a nationalist organization working for women's rights. Both also seemed to be steered by an inner compass that helped them to find their way even in situations in which circumstances pointed in a totally different direction. Without this characteristic Aung San would never have survived the hard years in the freedom movement. Without it, Khin Kyi would never, as one of the first women in a prominent public position, have embarked on a career in politics after her husband's death.

A person tending more toward conservative values would never have chosen the profession of nurse either. That task was normally reserved for women from the ethnic minorities, such as the Karen, Chin, or Kachin. If a Bamar got involved in health care, it was as a doctor, neither more nor less.

As a child, Khin Kyi had been sent to Kemmendine's Girls' School in Rangoon, and she planned on becoming a doctor. But health care attracted her more, and after a while she got herself a job at Rangoon General Hospital, the same hospital that would see her fading away almost fifty years later after a stroke.

It seems only to have taken a few days for Aung San to decide that Khin Kyi was to be the only woman in his life. In his usual straightforward and practical way he told her about his feelings. He wanted to get married. Now was the time. Khin Kyi was not as sure. However, Aung San insisted, and when the fever had abated and he had returned to his work, they continued to meet.

The relationship came as a surprise to most of Aung San's comrades and colleagues. At the university he had been an oddity and after that always 100 percent focused on the struggle for freedom. Even during the war he had kept his asocial character. He was a respected leader and the voice of the people, but his hygiene had not improved. Maung Maung, who later became Burma's official historian, describes how during the Japanese occupation he once saw Aung San take off his military tunic before a meeting in central Burma. The shirt underneath was filthy and full of holes. He only had two uniforms that he alternated between, and he rejected all forms of personal comfort. His self-denying attitude reinforced his position among
the Burmese and made him excessively popular, but no women had appeared in his life. Most people understood Aung San to be “a political animal,” uninterested in getting married and starting a family. It seemed to be a luxury that he could not or would not allow himself. On one occasion during the war he had even forbidden his soldiers to sing love songs in the evenings when they had pitched camp, since he was afraid that the singing would make them lose focus on the main target. There is also documentation showing how he had yelled in a fit of fury that all true patriots should subject themselves to castration so that romantic nonsense would not distract them from “the great assignment.”

In his book
Perfect Hostage
, Justin Wintle described how many of the people around Aung San reacted with what can only be seen as jealousy when he at last was himself struck by love. They wanted to have Bogyoke Aung San to themselves, and right from the beginning strange rumors spread about Ma Khin Kyi. Some asserted that she came from the Karen people, others that she was a Christian, a Baptist, or even a Seventh Day Adventist. The truth was that her father, Pho Hnyin, had grown up in an ordinary Burmese home where Buddhism was the only conceivable religion. As a young man, however, he had hunted frequently, and many of his hunting comrades, often the best shots, were Christian men from the Karen people. During late evenings on hunting expeditions they used to read selected parts of the Bible for him. They told him about the Christian message of love and forgiveness, and after a time Pho Hnyin converted to Christianity. His conversion was an unusual and controversial step in Burma, with all its conflicts between different religions and ethnic groups and with Bamar nationalism strongly on the march forward.

Khin Kyi's mother reacted very strongly. She came from a religious home, and for a long time she refused to accept her husband's decision. In the end they reached an agreement, the gist of which was that their children would grow up with two religions, so that they would later be able to choose for themselves which they wanted to profess. During the years of her youth in her hometown Myaungmya in the Irrawaddy Delta, Khin Kyi regularly attended both Buddhist convent and Christian church services. In this way it was natural for her to live in a multicultural and multireligious society. The strong tensions between the population groups in Burma as a whole did not exist in her own home.

Aung San and Khin Kyi both understood that their relationship would not be “ordinary,” but out on the shining waters of Lake Inya, Khin Kyi said yes to Aung San's proposal of marriage.

And yet it was all nearly canceled since Aung San lost control of himself in an atypical way the day before the wedding, as related in Wintle's
Perfect Hostage
. A group of Japanese officers had taken Aung San out with them on a stag party, happy that the committed and extremely hard-working Burmese had a human side despite everything. Aung San had barely tasted alcohol at all previously, and he did not have a chance when the hardened Japanese escalated the rate of drinking. He got disgustingly drunk, and just after midnight he was dumped on the veranda at the front of the house where Khin Kyi was waiting. She was furious and gave the Japanese a severe scolding for what they had done to her husband-to-be. When they left, she continued to scold Aung San, who responded by being sick on the veranda. At that point Khin Kyi informed him that the wedding was off. That was the end. If he were going to behave in that way, then “the great” Aung San would have to find another woman. After some hours' conversation during which Aung San explained that he had never behaved like that before and had no intention of ever doing so again, she changed her mind and they were married on September 6, 1942.

One can only guess how they both came to influence each other in issues of politics and religion. It is clear that Khin Kyi leaned more toward Christianity, her father's religion, before her meeting with Aung San, but after their marriage she was persuaded to be a faithful Buddhist. On a superficial level, this sounds like a purely strategic decision. In a country so profoundly Buddhist as Burma it would have been difficult for Aung San to make a career with a Christian wife. However, according to her friends and family, it was a seriously and carefully considered decision and her faith grew deeper as she grew older. But she never let go of her tolerant view of other cultures and religions, and as Wintle has asserted, it may have been precisely this attitude toward life that contributed to Aung San's greater understanding for Burma's ethnic minorities after the war and their demands for respect from the Bamar majority.

During the following years Aung San and Khin Kyi had four children one after another in rapid succession. The first-born was Aung San Oo, almost ten months to the day after the wedding. Slightly more than a year later little brother Aung San Lin arrived, and on the June 19, 1945, the couple's first
daughter, Aung San Suu Kyi, was born. They had another daughter in 1946, but she died almost immediately after being delivered.

All of Aung San Suu Kyi's names come from older members of the family. Aung San after her father, Suu after her paternal grandmother, and Kyi after her mother. In that way her parents did not follow the traditions in Burma. Burmese do not have family names in the same way Westerners do. A woman who marries does not take her husband's name, any more than children take their parents. If someone is named Win Naing, for example, then both names are his individual first names.

On the other hand, most Burmese are given their names according to which day of the week they were born on. Aung San Suu Kyi was born on a Tuesday, for which names like Cid, Nyi, San, and Zaw are common. This means that the number of names in Burma is rather limited, and that many people have the same names. In order to distinguish between people with the same name, the name of the birthplace is sometimes added as part of a person's name. For example, U Thant, the former secretary general of the United Nations, became known in Burma as Pantanaw U Thant, since he was born in the village of Pantanaw.

Family gathered in Rangoon when Aung San Suu Kyi is one year old. Behind her from the left: Khin Kyi, Aung San Oo, Aung San Lin, and Aung San.
Courtesy of Norstedts.

Sometimes the similarity in names can be an advantage. Several years ago I met a human rights activist who used to visit illegal Burmese immigrants imprisoned in Bangkok. In order to gain access to the prison, she was always compelled to give the name of the person she was going to visit. The problem was that she never knew with any certainty just who had been imprisoned that particular day of the week. “I always say that I am going to visit Maung Maung,” she explained, laughing, “and I am always allowed in.”

This morass of names becomes even more impenetrable through the titles often used by the Burmese to precede people's names. An older respected man is always accorded the title “U,” meaning approximately “Mister” or “Uncle.” U Nu is thus really only called Nu. The feminine equivalent is Daw. When people say Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, it is thus a way of showing her special respect.

Apart from this, many writers and political activists use a nickname or a pseudonym. The habit started during the colonial era as a way of misleading the security police, and it has been common even since the junta seized power. The student leader Min Ko Naing can be named as an example. His real name is Paw Oo Tun, but he changed names after a period of student protests. The name Min Ko Naing means “Slayer of Kings,” and it was originally a collective designation for a number of students who had printed political texts in protest against the military rule. When Paw Oo Tun later came forward as the leader of the whole student revolt, it was he who came to be associated with the name (as yet another curious fact it may be mentioned that the author Eric Blair, who worked as a policeman in Burma during his youth, later followed this Burmese tradition by taking the pen name George Orwell).