In darkened Rangoon, Burmese get resourceful

Power is spotty, spurring locals to rig car batteries and use pulleys in lieu of elevators to bring goods up from the street.

from the June 3, 2008 edition

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Outside a pagoda, a street vendor uses a jury-rigged car battery to illuminate a tray of peanuts for sale from his bicycle cart. Car batteries are everywhere, lighting up tea stalls and snack joints. Streets are dotted with red boxes, in some cases containing auto engines converted into local power generators.

Since Burma doesn't produce generators, consumers have to pay around $100 for Chinese models, says the manager of an electronics store. But since diesel prices have doubled or tripled in the past month, others are waiting in the dark, hoping prices will come down.

Searching for TV signals

Those who have power are desperate for TV. The store manager says satellite dishes are a popular item. Technicians can be seen throughout the downtown core, carrying black panels on their backs or installing them on rooftops. Watching television, from home or abroad, at least offers respite from a month of national anguish.

In areas with electricity, locals are flocking to Internet cafes tucked away in the side-streets of bustling residential areas. Often run by long-haired rockers or young cyber-punks in longyis (sarongs), they're doing a good business, charging 500 kyat (about 50 cents) or more for an hour of surfing, accompanied by rock, rap, or religious music. But the surfing is often slow, and access comes in waves that crash throughout the day.

Some locals say they look to the Internet to fill the void of Western-style news in the local TV, radio, and print media. Most Burmese Web-surfers in the public Internet cafes, however, seem more interested in uploading family photos or chatting with friends than reading news sites, such as Google or Yahoo, that are sometimes blocked. Communicating by Internet is often cheaper and safer than paying 50 to 100 kyat per minute for local calls on patchy phone lines.

Many people doubt that authorities, who control the country's only server, have the time or energy to read through every individual e-mail. Already overloaded, the narrow Internet highway has been further jammed by the arrival of foreign aid workers, who are forced to rely on Internet communications because satellite phones are banned and cellphone SIM cards cost a whopping $2,000.

After the cafes close around 9 p.m., surfers wander home in the dark, avoiding potholes and stepping around puddles and prowling dogs.

"We can survive anything because we have to," says a Burmese netizen. "We are the toughest people in the world. When the apocalypse comes, we will be the last people to survive, because we are already near it."

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