The calm
My father was able to pack up and rush back to Yangon by the 3rd of February. We enjoyed a small reunion and a quiet family dinner. While we knew things could only get worse, for a short time we enjoyed the time we had together and hoped this could last longer.
The next day, my father and I sat side-by-side on our laptops- me, working from home and him, reaching out to associates exploring next ventures for our family in a seemingly new chapter of our lives. Time to come may be tough, but we were optimistic we would face them together.
The storm
It was the evening of the 4th of February we received a call from the security of our previous residence. The security officer of the building, whom we kept in touch with, warned us to either run or hide, because more than 5 police trucks had rounded the building and police officers were asking for my father by name. Our current address had not been updated in the database, so they were not aware of our location at the time. The security guard had told them that we had moved some time ago and that they were not aware of our current address, leaving out that they had our current contact information.
My mother told us to start packing. We were going into hiding. They still did not know where we were, so we had a small window of time that was rapidly closing by the minute. My father quickly called his fellow Deputy Minister of the same department, U Min Ye Pg Hein, who had not yet been informed that deputy ministers were also being searched for, to both update him on the situation and also to inquire of his next move.
The turnaround
It was in the middle of packing that my father walked upstairs and told us to stop. He told us he had made another call to U Min Ye just an hour later, who at the time had already been secured by the police.
It took all but 1 hour for the lives to turn a complete 180. Because he called someone who had already been secured, my father unwillingly made contact with the very forces we were packing to run from. The officer suggested he tell them our address to come get him, but my father refused- He did not want them to cause an uproar in the neighborhood and have the media catch wind of our family, compromising our safety even more. Free media is not something you want to be associated under a dictatorship. It had only been 4 days since the coup, but some of my father's ex-colleagues' families had already been put under house arrest for engaging with the media making known their grievance. In compromise, he agreed to meet them, in other words, turn himself in at on neutral grounds, in front the Thuwanna Football Stadium in the middle of the night.
The resolution
I told him he was being stupid and naive. We still had time to run, albeit only an hour or two window. We could still do so. But he said doing so would force the whole family into refuge for however long this regime lasted- the last time a coup happened it lasted over 25 years- and that we had our futures to think about.
He said he had done nothing wrong, so what was there to fear. He reasoned that the police did not sound hostile at least, so it was probably just questions regarding a job-handover something similar, since no one could just abruptly take up the responsibilities of a nation's economy no matter how skilled. I repeated he was being naive, but I realize now that he was trying to convince himself, as much as he was trying to convince us.
At midnight of 4th February 2021, my father walked into his own imprisonment.
The Insein Prison
Our car discreetly followed the entourage of 2 police trucks and 2 civilian cars (it may be more, but my memory is blurry) that had picked him up. We followed them across the city, only to see them turn left into the Insein Prison, which had been built by the British during the era of colonialism before the Second World War. We watched their car enter the compound and register the gates close, but could not actually comprehend what had just occurred. My mother cried for the first time since the coup began.
U Min Ye's whereabouts is still not known today.
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