Within Burma's outward smiles, winces of pain

LETTER FROM RANGOON

By Rafael D. Frankel, Globe Correspondent, 3/16/2003

RANGOON, Burma -- Ivy grows outside apartment walls, most buildings are cracked, and the sidewalks in this once-elegant capital are crumbling. Still, Rangoon is sprouting luxury hotels, high-rise office buildings, and its fair share of upscale nightclubs.

Burma is a country of contradictions, but the signs that it is deteriorating are not all visible. Instead, they lie in the frayed fabric of a nation coming apart at the seams, falling behind in its economic, educational, and health care status.

Except for the short bananas sold on street corners for a few cents apiece, life here contrasts sharply with some other Southeast Asian capitals.

In Phnom Penh, Cambodia, and in Hanoi -- both bouncing back from decades of conflict -- motorbikes buzz around, carrying their busy drivers to and from work.

In Rangoon, the streets are clogged with 20-year-old cars running on spare parts and spewing black exhaust. The military junta that runs Burma and that refers to the nation as Myanmar, has outlawed motorcycles in the city and has raised taxes on cars so high that only the rich can afford new vehicles.

Burma, as one Western expatriate put it recently, ''is an undeveloping country.''

According to the United Nations, more than 35 percent of Burmese children suffer from malnutrition in what was once called the Rice Bowl of Asia. The health-care and education systems are in shambles, threatening to produce an entire generation in which ignorance and disease are the norm rather than the exception.

It is hard to determine exactly why the Burmese are no longer getting enough to eat. ''It's nearly impossible to get the true story,'' said a Western diplomat, who like others here spoke only on condition of anonymity. ''You cross-reference your facts and the things that match up three or four times you call the truth.''

So goes information dissemination in a totalitarian country.

Most likely, a combination of uneven distribution and overexporting has increased by more than 100 percent the prices for staples such as rice and cooking oil, the diplomat said. ''The poorest could face an increasingly difficult situation,'' he reported.

Meanwhile, only half of Burma's children complete Grade 5 because of gross underfunding by the government and an ingrained bribery system. Although school is supposed to be free, some teachers ask parents for ''donations.''

In addition, the younger generation is not keeping pace in learning English. When visitors need directions or are curious about current events, it is Burmese at least older than 40, who studied under the remnants of the English colonial system, who can speak with foreigners.

The effects of the education system are being felt in several ways. For example, there are no qualified architects or engineers to build the military's pet-project bridges over the Irrawaddy River; Chinese and Europeans are recruited instead.

In addition, there are no doctors coming up to take the place of those who are retiring, no small problem for a country where HIV infects almost 500,000 people, according to the United Nations, and is spreading rapidly. And with endemic cholera and tuberculosis, a public health crisis exists from which there is no discernible escape, a local doctor said.

Pinched by a government-mandated 25-cent consultation fee, the relatively few young Burmese doctors are cutcorners -- and endangering their patients -- by reusing syringes, the doctor said.

With myriad ills afflicting Burma, the people would be forgiven if they sank into societal depression. Nevertheless, as with all Southeast Asian countries, a gentle smile is still the rule.

''The Burmese are the most charming oppressed people in the world,'' American author Jeff Greenwald said after a recent visit.

©2003 Globe Newspaper Company