Under the Dragon Read Online Free PDF Page B

hearts. Ni Ni’s father walked among them, pushing his bicycle.
    On the day of the strike Ni Ni was told to stay at the shop, not that there was anyone to buy her lotions, as even loquacious May May Gyi had joined the marchers. Ko Aye sat with her for an hour, few people needing one-eyed haircuts either, and told her of the importance of the strike. His enthusiasm made her feel foolish. She had asked to go with her father, but he would not listen. They had argued for the first time, just as he and her mother used to argue, and her fingers had quivered. Ni Ni wondered if her mother and the cool ice factory manager had joined the demonstration.
    She ate a little rice at midday and tried to nap through the hot afternoon. But sleep would not come, and so, unnoticed by Ko Aye, she stole away into the town. She hoped to catch sight of her father, though not of course to be seen by him, but in the central Maha Bandoola Park there were too many people. They poured in from all directions, cheering, clapping, marching in their thousands towards the city hall. Dockworkers walked alongside tailors, air force pilots joined hands with housewives. Students formed human chains around groups of soldiers, protecting them from the marchers, shouting, ‘The People’s Army is our army!’ Three columns of monks carried their alms bowls upside down, to show that the whole nation was on strike. Ni Ni walked behind them, alongside pupils from Dagon State High School No. 1, her right fist raised too, calling ‘ Do aye! ’ – our cause – and watching out for her father.
    ‘You have never seen anything like it,’ rattled Law San in the early evening. He had returned home soon after her, so excited by the unprecedented events that he cooked up a steaming cauldron of Shan hkauk-hswe and passed around free bowls of the noodles. Her father had not been with him.
    ‘We walked at the head of the Prome Road demonstrators. Your father carried the portrait of Aung San on his handlebars.’ Aung San was the national hero who led the struggle for independence from British colonial rule and from the Japanese occupation in the 1940s. ‘There were township banners from Yankin, Bahan, North and South Okkalapa, everywhere.’
    Student leaders had made spontaneous speeches beneath the Sule Pagoda, their banners calling for democracy, for an end to one-party rule and for freedom for political prisoners. In the late afternoon the Rangoon district commander had appeared on the portico of the city hall. He had ordered the people to disperse, threatening that otherwise his troops would open fire.
    ‘But there were too many of us. The crowd just grew and grew,’ thrilled Law San. He could not contain his amazement. ‘We chanted, “This is a peaceful demonstration. No provocations,” and General Myo Nyunt went away. He just went away.’ People found the courage to take hold of their destiny. ‘Then a young man unbuttoned his shirt and addressed the troops. “Shoot me if you dare!” he said. I tell you, Burmese soldiers will not shoot Burmese civilians. The government will cave in. It will collapse tonight.’
    ‘And my father?’ Ni Ni asked. “Is he all right?’
    ‘All right? Of course he’s all right.’
    Ni Ni laughed, both out of nervousness and relief. ‘Then why didn’t he come back with you?’
    ‘Because he couldn’t tear himself away, Ni Ni. And I understand him. I understand him well. This is a lucky day in our history. He will be home later. Have another bowl of noodles.’
    But Ni Ni’s father didn’t return, not that night or the next day. Instead terrified neighbours stumbled up the Prome Road, their longyis stained with blood. In hushed, hurried tones they recounted the horror of the massacre. Not long before midnight, army trucks loaded with troops had roared out from behind the city hall. Armoured cars had driven into the heart of the crowd. Soldiers had stepped down from their vehicles, taken up position and opened fire.