The 19th Hole(s)

In 2006 I went to Myanmar. I knew little about the place save from the fact it was run by a military junta and according to the hippy at my local bar in Port Melbourne ‘by traveling there I was no better than the bastards!’ Bollocks I retorted. I’ll stay in private hostels, eat local food and show a finger to the boys at the checkpoints on the way through – collusion my arse.

One day in Hsipaw, a 3 hour drive west of Mandalay I had a craving for golf. I know, at my core I’m a trader who’d love to be an 18th century tea plantation owner with my Indian wife and personal army, but in the 21st I just have to travel and play golf when I get the chance. Anyway, at tee off I realized the officers of the junta really love a good whack. And…if possible a good wank. Because all of the caddies were young good looking women, probably mothers at night, but during the day suck buddies for the men in green. Anyway it was wakeup 101 time for me. After sending a crooked shank into the eucalyptus trees (could have been my home town course less the hookers) I ran into a fence and outside….outside were probably 15 children. Emaciated. Haggard. Festering sores on their faces. I thought they wanted money from me – white ego you see, but as I watched their big brown eyes follow the party behind me it dawned on me. They were waiting for their mum’s to get off from work. The poor little buggers were waiting till mum finished her ‘work’ so they could get a feed from the proceeds. Of course I was outraged. ‘This is an outrage’ I said to myself (I couldn’t afford a caddie). ‘Someone should do something’ I mused. After a few calls all of my chardonnay sipping western sensibilities would be satisfied.

After the round (I blame the poor score on my realization that these guys were bad pricks) I was invited for a drink. And I drank with them. A colonel and a major told me about how they’d just got blow jobs from their ‘women’ at the 18th. I’d like to say I was shocked. Instead I laughed. The scotch soothed my prior concerns about the trivial matters of exploitation, the kids voices trailed off and I giggled away as the colonel added my expenses to his tab.

Why am I recounting this? Yes Burma was an amazing place and there are so many stories I could tell. And I’m not usually one to expose myself to claims of hypocrisy (especially my hippie friend at the Parrot). But the point is that we humans, whether individually or at a macro governmental level will do anything to get what we want. I wanted a drink The Chinese want teak and the Indians Gas. What’s the bloody difference? You think if the Yanks were next door they wouldn’t collude with the junta to get a taste of that sweet smelling natural gas they’re sitting on? My point is following the recent catastrophic cyclone in southern Myanmar everyone has their Burmese armband on shedding tears for the thousands killed and injured. Yes it’s a massive tragedy. But if we really cared why not send in a few thousand marines and finish it?

Instead the US and France move their air craft carriers a few degrees north full of food and medical equipment showing how concerned they are to the rest of the world. Concurrently the French pump oil out of Burmese waters and the Indians suck gas into West Bengal (the Thais are too nice to bag). Who wants 10 years of experimental democracy in Burma when there’s all this stuff to get out of there? The only reason America and the West are so concerned is because they’re not getting a piece of it and the Chinese are!

This is reality. And it’s not going to change because of bleeding hearts in the UN. My advice: grab yourself a caddie and get on with it while you can. Because finally the only thing that will change the status quo is the caddies, 1 woods in hand, chasing the colonel off the green.

For less cynical and more timely observations check out my travel blog http://www.bugbitten.com/blogs/Asia/sambatters/sf3/Myanmar.html

Oh yeah, for the record, Burmese people are without doubt the friendliest people on earth.

Hooroo.