As Pompeii lies under lava

 

_ By Gamanii

I

Eruption of

Vesuvius volcano

Was quite scenic to look at

From Capri Island, it was said so

As Pompeii

Lies buried under lava

 

How's that, Mr. Gambari? Are you really shaken? That's the New Ode to the Holy Sky poem by poet Maung Aung Pwint. Of Course, some people are really amazing just like Maung Aung Pwint said. They're incredibly apathetic.

…Because they don't hear the screams under the hot lava.

I dare not say they are pretending not to hear. I don't want to offend them.

 

Well, Mr. Gambari…

I'm glad to know that you're not a Capri Islander.

Between you and me, let's listen to the screams and cries of the Pompeians under molten lava.

Next, Mr. Gambari, let's try to step forward a little so that we could see the tears of those townsfolk under the hot lava. Do you agree?

II

Mr. Gambari, have you ever perceived the squeaking sound of a pulley under a dim light on a heavily misty winter night?

 

I have heard it.

I heard those sounds through the depths of my heart, dear Gambari. I don't want to retell the story to anyone. In fact, I don't have the cheek to tell it. Because I fear anyone hearing about it would get distressed.

But I want you to know it anyway.

III

On that night, mists descended very heavily.

It was utterly murky—you couldn't see more than four or five steps. Those were the days when a cold wave was passing over our country. It was almost freezing.

Such was the chill that, I still recall, fish died en masse then and were floating around in the Kandawgyi (Royal Lake).

 

On that night, on that very cold night…

A completely nude young man, handcuffed from behind and hooded, was dragged from his cell.

On his chest, on his back, head and shins, were blackened weals from beatings, kicks and baton-rolling on the shins, together with swelling all over his torso…

 

It was only three days into the Interrogation but all appearance of a human had gone.

 

Looking at the scene of two stone-faced burly men dragging him by his armpits reminded one of a horror movie…

 

The light near the well was switched off.

Only the corridor light of the main building a little distance away was glimmering.

 

What were they doing? What were they going to do enjoying such darkness?

What do you think, Mr. Gambari...?

 

Listen! Voices coming out…

 

"I don't know."

"You're still stubborn, bastard. Now tell me where are the mother-f***ers who gave you these papers."

"I don’t know."

"If you don't know, then we'll send you to the place where you will know."

 

Look carefully, Mr. Gambari. What were they up to?

 

They were tying up the man's legs with a coconut fiber rope.

Then…

The two men lifted him up and put him on the well's rim.

Ah! The rope was the well's pulley rope.

 

"We're asking you in a human way, you ass."

His voice came out.

"I really do not know, sir."

"Waste of time! Down!" A lordly order came out behind the Cherry tree just in front of the well.

In an instant, the man was pushed into the well.

Oh, God! ...

 

The two men strained at the pulley rope.

The man fell tumbling down in a haphazard manner and was stopped in midair, hanging from the rope upside down. Because of an abrupt pull effect and because of holding the full weight, his legs must have pained a great deal.

 

Of all things, who is prepared to be thrown into a dark well?

Who has ever imagined beforehand that he or she would be tossed into a well like this one day?

I became short of breath just thinking of it.

 

The pulley was being wound up bit by bit.

Since it had been out of use for a long time, no one had bothered to oil it so that its sound could be heard from a distance. The sound itself was horrifying…

 

"Where are your mother-f***ers, you asshole?"

"I don't know."

"Bastard, we're asking you in human language! Goddamn!"

"I really don't…"

 

Before the end of answer, pulley line was let loose.

The rope and man plummeted into the well.

The sounds of man hitting the water, plunging into the water and, before the man hit the water…

The man's piercing scream…

The whole scene was like hell broken loose, Mr. Gambari…

 

The whole night long, he was pulled up from water, then hurled into it again and drowned repeatedly, ruthlessly forced to disclose the names of schoolboys who had given him statements to be handed out.

 

He did not utter a word, standing fast. He had no wish to hurt the students whom he loved, no wish to let them suffer like he did. The worst thing for him was to give his life. Let it be!

No one would be blown because of him. This was his resolve. 

IV

What's that noise, you asked. Didn't you, Mr. Gambari?

Of course, that's the sound of prayer gongs.

That's the sound of beating the gongs for the funeral procession of Ko _ _ _'s father.

 

Do you see two tearful eyes between the heavy 5x3 wooden poles; between the wire meshes of that two-storied lockup, Mr. Gambari?

Those are the eyes of Ko _ _ _'s.

 

When he was arrested, his father was left behind with severe heart affliction.

He died on the night when someone from the Police Station came and told him that his son was undergoing inhuman torture.

 

In which country, Mr. Gambari, could you find a young man who seems more dead than alive and who has to pay his last respects to his father's funeral from a two-storied jail on his eleventh day of interrogation? 

V

That was the events at the time of the Gandhi Hall meeting immediately after the elections.

 

So what's happening today when sixteen years has passed since the elections? 

VI

Thet Win Aung,

On your back

Between weals

Are scattered pieces of

Your poem recitations

That we picked up to gather and…

 

While I was reciting the poem…

I unmistakably heard the sobs of Ko Thet Win Aung's father.

When I took a glance, those sobs were tainted with molten lava.

 

Please don't let me continue my recitation, Mr. Gambari.

Just take this slip of  poetry along. Recite it yourself when you arrived back at the UN after a rest.

 

The reality of Ko_ _ _ shielding others by his suffering—shielding others, even sacrificing his own father—was to save students and young people like Ko Thet Win Aung from incarceration.

He wanted them to continue their studies of preference peacefully in the classrooms.

 

But now…

His wishes are not fulfilled, Mr. Gambari…

 

Those students whom he had protected by fatally withstanding torture were caught.

Like him, they too were tortured brutally to the point when their nerves broke down; they too were moved around from one jail to another on the whim of authorities and; they too were made to suffer from anything which the despots fancied till they died eventually—such were the tyrants' exploits.

 

Because of news of your visit here today, they made desperate attempts to show rational causes by producing medical examination results, displaying treatment records or compelling doctors, wardens and jailors to fabricate stories. They are doing whatever comes into their heads.

 

Only the insane would believe their words.

They are such kind of people as to twist even their own skin.

 

VII

With regards to news censoring or lack of press freedom, our country is fifth in the world, it is said.

In a report issued by Reporters Sans Frontieres (RSF) analyzing status of press freedom in 168 countries, our country is ranked 164^th—such is the lack of freedom.

 

Burma Media Association (BMA) says…

Inside various prisons of Burma, twenty-one journalists including Hanthawaddy daily's editor U Win Tin are still being detained.

Journalists who have died inside jails and interrogation camps number six including Sayar Maung Thawka.

 

Isn't the figures terrifying?

Our country's like that, Mr. Gambari.

 

At the same time, you will find in this very country persons like the so-called Information Minister, who would smilingly and profusely tell you untruths as truths; who would brazenly and unashamedly tell you truths as untruths. 

VIII

Well, you're a very sharp guy…

You have spent many years behind going around the world, dealing with all kinds of persons.

You're the kind of person who can see through one's words straight away.

 

So, merely by this account…

I believe you can see or hear the sufferings of Pompeians well enough.

 

Please tell our dear Mr. Kofi Annan as well…

That "As Pompeii lies buried under lava" … 

Zun Hmaing

(November 10, 2006) 

Translated by Gamanii