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Vol.181/2013/02
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「風になりたい」
Author's Note by Yuzo_Uda
A Wind Blowing Through Burma/Myanmar: Walking, Seeing and Photographing Southeast Asia's Last Frontier
Do these changes represent a real shift in power, or are they merely superficial reforms introduced for the purpose of maintaining the military's dominance?
To be honest, I have no idea. But it is difficult to believe that a regime that has ruled by force for so long would give up power so easily.
At the same time, however, when you see the hopeful expressions on the faces of people in Rangoon, it's difficult not to feel that perhaps the country really has reached the point of no return on the road to reform. But does this feeling extend to countryside, or is it confined to Burma's largest city?
This year, 2012, marks 21 years since I first started reporting on Burma as a photojournalist. Looking back on it now, it amazes even me that I have been able to continue for so long, considering how restrictive the country is for reporters. During this period, I was detained and denied entry so many times that I often thought of giving up completely.
I have also lost count of the number of times that I broke out in a cold sweat when I realized that I had wandered into a minefield while photographing in the war zones near the Thai border.
In the end, by the summer of 2007, I had visited all of Burma's 14 administrative regions (seven states and seven divisions). I have been to the northernmost house in the northernmost village in the country, near the Chinese border, as well as the southernmost village, close to the Thai border. I have spent time photographing along the Thai border to the east and the Bangladesh border to the west. Reporting from these remote regions was difficult, for both geographic and political reasons.
A photographer must go to the places he wants to document. This simple fact always presents challenges, and in the case of Burma, the greatest obstacle was military rule. But I often felt that if I didn't do this work now, many people and events would be forgotten forever.
Of course, I wouldn't have been able to continue for so long without the help of countless local people. There were times when I had to hide myself among them, trying to blend in and become as invisible as the air, to make a narrow escape.
At such times, I wished I could be like a wind blowing among the people around me, free of any constraints.
In my mind, I tried to erase my own existence and become like the wind: a wind that gently comes and goes, sometimes warm and sometimes cool, leaving no trace of myself behind.
What does the wind carry?
In early spring, it comes with a hint of warm sunlight that brings the buds on the trees to life.
In summer, it might blow cold on the mountain peaks, fierce and unsettling. If it blows hot, it might not be welcomed by anyone; but in the dry zone of Upper Burma, even a hot wind brings some relief from the beating sun, and as long as it does not carry any sand with it, can be unexpectedly pleasant, like being wrapped in a tepid warmth. Moving among people like a breeze, I click the shutter of my camera and catch the scene without anybody noticing.
I try to capture the atmosphere of a place, and like the wind convey it far afield, to another time and place.
The wind has no substance. It can only be felt when it passes. You only know that something? or someone? was there, and now is gone. That is how I tried to be: like a wind that comes and goes, barely noticed.
A wind that whispers.
A wind that is just moving air.
A wind that must keep moving.
How does it move?
Which way does it blow?
This is how I photographed Burma.
This collection of photographs is intended, first and foremost, for people living in Burma. For many, it may reveal conditions in the country that they have never seen before.
These days, it has become the norm in Japan to refer to Burma as Myanmar. The name was changed by the military dictatorship to make it more appealing to foreign countries, and Japan adopted it without hesitation.
The junta changed not only the name of the country and other place names, but also historical reality. "Myanmar" refers only to the ethnic Burman majority, while "Burma" has long been used to encompass the country's ethnic diversity.
Before long, however, the people of Burma started using "Myanmar" instead of "Burma" in their everyday speech. Burma is also increasingly called "Myanmar"in much of the rest of the world.
Societies change over time, so perhaps it is natural that countries get new names that reflect shifts in power. Most people don't think much about the political nuances, and simply follow whatever name is most widely used.
In this book, I have chosen to use "Burma" because I wanted to show that there has been a rewriting of history and the facts that has come to be widely accepted. But no matter how much this verbal act supports the regime, the facts cannot be erased. Whether it's Burma or Myanmar, the wind that blows through the country doesn't change.
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