BURMA:A veteran of Burma's 1988 marches tells Ruadhán Mac Cormaicthat his hopes for this year's protests are tempered by memories of brutal suppression
Watching television pictures of his compatriots taking to Rangoon's streets in defiance of their rulers brings Aung San Phyo back a generation. It is 1988, and his 21-year-old self is chanting the very same slogans, breathing in the same revolutionary air.
"I was delighted to see it, but on the other hand, I have a vivid memory of all the massacres and the shootings, so I don't want that to happen again," he says.
Phyo, who now lives in Dublin with his wife and four young children, was a final-year physics student at Rangoon University in 1988, the year of Burma's last pro-democracy protests on this scale.
He recalls that it was around this time of year, in late September, that he was involved in a march through the embassy district of Burma's capital.
As the crowd walked, they noticed that soldiers were taking up positions on the roof of the government buildings that overlooked them.
"We were just marching, shouting 'We want democracy' and 'Give us freedom'. In the middle of the road, without any warning, they started shooting at everyone from the rooftop.
"I was in the middle. I didn't know what to do. I was just standing, and then the monk in front of me, he was shot in the head. He fell on me, so I fell back as well. I was lucky that he was covering me, but I couldn't move. I just looked around and at least 60 or 70 people were already dead - no movement. Then there was shouting and screaming, running everywhere."
When the shooting stopped, he came across an injured schoolgirl and, with the help of another student, carried her to hospital. She died later that day.
"But what she said touched me. She said: 'Don't give up, please continue to fight.' And then she died later."
It took several massacres and more than 3,000 deaths before that year's demonstrations finally subsided, but when they did the regime was as strong as ever and intent on rounding up those involved.
Phyo had hoped to remain in Burma, but when he returned home one evening to find that the house where he stayed had been ransacked by the police, his plans changed. His family would never have let him go, so he never said goodbye.
Disguised as a boatman, Phyo and a friend spent three days
en route to the Thai-Burmese border.
Once they crossed it, he joined the student army that was forming in the Thai jungle, intent on violent resistance to the regime. But the longed-for international support never came and hope ebbed with every week in the jungle. After more than two years and a near-fatal bout of malaria, Phyo moved on.
His journey to Ireland followed a seven-year stint in India, where he lobbied on behalf of Burmese refugees and set up a language school that is still running today.
Aung San Phyo came from a middle-class family; his father was a state official, his mother a teacher. But when Phyo was identified as a dissident by the authorities, his father was posted to an isolated region close to the Thai border and his mother was forced to resign from the school where she taught.
His father, two brothers and two sisters are still back home.
"I'm especially worried for one sister who lives near the Shwedagon pagoda [ Burma's holiest shrine], the centre of everything that's happening at the moment," he says.
Phyo, who is now an Irish citizen, is among fewer than 100 Burmese-born people living in Ireland. He is involved in Burma Action Ireland's work on behalf of the pro-democracy movement.
It is almost 20 years since Phyo left home, but his desire for a return burns more intensely with time, he says.
"If they got freedom tomorrow, I would go home tomorrow. I just can't wait . . . I want to see my father. It has been difficult."
And for all the similarities he sees between the current protests and those of 1988, Phyo sees important differences too. Most of all, he thinks, this time his people know the world's eyes are trained on them.
"I was just talking to a friend of mine who works as a reporter at the Thai-Burmese border. He says people know. Last time, in 1988, we didn't know. But this time the people know the world is watching. My friend got a letter from someone in Burma recently. This guy said: 'We know you are watching us. Don't forget us'."