I am a CDM (Civil Disobedience Movement) teacher. After the military coup in Myanmar on February 1, 2022, I started participating in the CDM movement from five days later. Before the coup, due to COVID-19, I was renting a room as the school premises were turned into a center for staff. After the coup, CDM participants no longer had staff quarters, which made life more difficult. “Despite that, I remained steadfast in my beliefs. I continued to protest while eating the food provided by the people on the streets. The days of living like this became more frequent.” I lost track of where my mother’s home and meals were. Even when I returned at night, I had to stay safe from nightly curfews, participating in front-line defense to protect the people from danger. Some of the money provided by the people was used to cover my rent. In the following three months, the situation became dire due to attacks from military dogs, which I faced bravely. At night, I had to take refuge in makeshift shelters, often with other young people. I was scared, Mother… living with the fear of being captured and the exhaustion of such a life. Some nights were spent guarding at street corners, while the sounds of gunfire and explosions were frequent, forcing me to stay away from danger. However, the spirit of martyrdom for the truth remained strong. The community supported me, and despite the struggles, I found shelter in a certain place thanks to their assistance. This can no longer be considered fortunate. The person who provided a place suddenly passed away, leading to further hardships. Although everyone can offer a meal, the reality of being targeted by the military and the danger to my family was a constant concern. Despite all this, the understanding and help provided by people proved that the saying “the people are the people” is indeed true. I am deeply grateful and both sad and happy. After that, the violence and brutality continued to worsen day by day. Facing the brutality and harshness, I was driven by the will to endure rather than fear. In my 15 years of teaching, I had never experienced such exhaustion. Living under constant threat, I preserved my dignity and aspirations through the CDM movement. To be a good citizen, I left on April 15, 2021, with only 15,000 kyats, without informing anyone, and arrived at the EAOs’ (Ethnic Armed Organizations) camp. I wanted to inform you, Mother, that I am safe and healthy. I did not apologize for leaving, nor did I express regret for not being able to support you, as I was proud to be a good employee and citizen. You, Mother, said, “I will wait for the day my son returns home, no matter what the situation. Please come back safely, no matter what happens…” I still hear your voice, full of hope and tears. I only learned after about eight months in the jungle that you were waiting at home, with the door closed due to the third wave of COVID-19. I had to struggle to buy a keypad phone like everyone else in order to stay connected. Although I was able to send money to my parents yearly, I am currently unable to provide even a glass of water for you, Mother. “Please forgive me, Mother.” Venturing into a political situation I did not fully understand, I now realize how intertwined education and politics are. Although I had no prior experience in such fields, I have now learned to live with the basics of food and water in the jungle. Regardless of the situation, I always sing my “Home” song, with its nostalgic and heartfelt melody, remembering you, Mother. I continued with my responsibilities in the jungle, adapting like other soldiers. After about a year and a half, I reconnected with my parents. My mother, with enduring hope, said, “Although it brings both pride and shame to me, my dear son, continue to ask for what you need and avoid deception and theft. That’s what you should do.” I want to cry and return home, Mother. If one day our country and our revolution succeed, and if fate allows me to survive, I will be the first to run back to you, Mother.
Hope
