By BA KAUNG
While it is well reported that the Kachin towns in northeast Burma have heavy Chinese influences, I was not expecting that the Chinese side of the border would have such prominent Kachin scenes.
We were en route to Laiza through Yunnan Province, and as our car broke through the thick mountain fog after countless hairpin bends, a small but unmistakably Kachin village came into view—I saw Kachin women carrying bamboo baskets along the street, farmers steering motorcycles connected to 10-foot long carts laden with vegetables.
We had driven three hours from Ruili to get to Yingjiang in Dehong Prefecture, and were still at least two hours from the border. All along the smooth surfaced road, concrete housing and highway construction were constantly underway.
Though we were still firmly in Yunnan Province, the signs marking the entrances to the hospital and the cinema were written in Kachin as well as Chinese.
“These are original Kachin villages which the Burmese government handed over to China after independence in 1948,” said an ethnic Kachin man in the car, turning to me.
He explained that the loss of this indigenous Kachin region was one of the major issues often voiced by the Kachins with much indignation when discussions are raised regarding Burmese majority rule.
We drove on through the fog, headlights on full-beam, until we reached Laiza. As we crossed a tiny bridge over a stream, one of my fellow passengers told me we were now in Burma—we do not cross a border checkpoint.
As a Burman, I braced myself—this was the home base and headquarters of the Kachin Independence Army, the KIA, a 10,000-strong ethnic militia that had engaged the Burmese government in a battle for for self-autonomy for over 60 years.
Looking around at the dense jungle and the cold misty mountains that surrounded the town, it occurred to me how daunting it would be for Burmese soldiers who grew up in the lower plains to operate and fight the local Kachin rebels in this terrain.
Laiza only begun to develop around 2001. Prior to this, it could only be regarded as a remote hilltribe village, devoid of traffic, electricity and modern appliances. However, the people of this town could hold their heads up and proudly state that this was one area that was truly liberated from Burmese government control.
KIA soldiers roam the streets, talking on mobile phones and chatting, with AK-47s slung casually over their shoulders. Kachin officers can be identified by the pistols they wear around their waists.
At night, Laiza is well-lit—the electricity provided by the KIA-run hydropower plant nearby. Lining the main street are a string of hotels, many of them owned by local Kachins, and mobile phone shops, which are invariably run by Chinese. At the crossroads, a Kachin traffic policeman directs a handful of motorcycles and land-cruisers, the latter usually having tinted glass, behind which sit KIA officials.
I was warned by a KIA acquaintance not to go out alone at night—I clearly looked too much “Burman” and he was afraid KIA soldiers, whether off- or on-duty, would hassle me on suspicion of being a Burmese spy.
When the Kachin leadership gets together at a hotel or at their headquarters, I am told, snipers are positioned along the rooftops overlooking the street.
Although the KIA hold meetings in Laiza, their headquarters—a jungle base situated in a ravine protected by anti-personnel landmines— is located on the mountainside a few kilometers outside town.
Despite the fact that Laiza houses little more than 1,000 households, I have found that the vast majority of Kachins are proud to call the town their capital, and are passionately nationalistic in supporting the Kachin Independence Organization (KIO), the political wing of the KIA, which locals commonly refer to as simply “our government.”
The KIO has several offices in Laiza—departments that oversee economic, health, customs and immigration issues, and even a foreign relations department.
While it is well reported that the Kachin towns in northeast Burma have heavy Chinese influences, I was not expecting that the Chinese side of the border would have such prominent Kachin scenes.
We were en route to Laiza through Yunnan Province, and as our car broke through the thick mountain fog after countless hairpin bends, a small but unmistakably Kachin village came into view—I saw Kachin women carrying bamboo baskets along the street, farmers steering motorcycles connected to 10-foot long carts laden with vegetables.
We had driven three hours from Ruili to get to Yingjiang in Dehong Prefecture, and were still at least two hours from the border. All along the smooth surfaced road, concrete housing and highway construction were constantly underway.
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“These are original Kachin villages which the Burmese government handed over to China after independence in 1948,” said an ethnic Kachin man in the car, turning to me.
He explained that the loss of this indigenous Kachin region was one of the major issues often voiced by the Kachins with much indignation when discussions are raised regarding Burmese majority rule.
We drove on through the fog, headlights on full-beam, until we reached Laiza. As we crossed a tiny bridge over a stream, one of my fellow passengers told me we were now in Burma—we do not cross a border checkpoint.
As a Burman, I braced myself—this was the home base and headquarters of the Kachin Independence Army, the KIA, a 10,000-strong ethnic militia that had engaged the Burmese government in a battle for for self-autonomy for over 60 years.
Looking around at the dense jungle and the cold misty mountains that surrounded the town, it occurred to me how daunting it would be for Burmese soldiers who grew up in the lower plains to operate and fight the local Kachin rebels in this terrain.
Laiza only begun to develop around 2001. Prior to this, it could only be regarded as a remote hilltribe village, devoid of traffic, electricity and modern appliances. However, the people of this town could hold their heads up and proudly state that this was one area that was truly liberated from Burmese government control.
KIA soldiers roam the streets, talking on mobile phones and chatting, with AK-47s slung casually over their shoulders. Kachin officers can be identified by the pistols they wear around their waists.
At night, Laiza is well-lit—the electricity provided by the KIA-run hydropower plant nearby. Lining the main street are a string of hotels, many of them owned by local Kachins, and mobile phone shops, which are invariably run by Chinese. At the crossroads, a Kachin traffic policeman directs a handful of motorcycles and land-cruisers, the latter usually having tinted glass, behind which sit KIA officials.
I was warned by a KIA acquaintance not to go out alone at night—I clearly looked too much “Burman” and he was afraid KIA soldiers, whether off- or on-duty, would hassle me on suspicion of being a Burmese spy.
When the Kachin leadership gets together at a hotel or at their headquarters, I am told, snipers are positioned along the rooftops overlooking the street.
Although the KIA hold meetings in Laiza, their headquarters—a jungle base situated in a ravine protected by anti-personnel landmines— is located on the mountainside a few kilometers outside town.
Despite the fact that Laiza houses little more than 1,000 households, I have found that the vast majority of Kachins are proud to call the town their capital, and are passionately nationalistic in supporting the Kachin Independence Organization (KIO), the political wing of the KIA, which locals commonly refer to as simply “our government.”
The KIO has several offices in Laiza—departments that oversee economic, health, customs and immigration issues, and even a foreign relations department.
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