I've been aware of Burmese comedian Maung Thura (he goes by "Zargana," which means "tweezers") since 2006, when I read
this article in the Washington Post about the oppression of comedians in Myanmar. Here's an excerpt from that article:
"Most of the jokes in our country satirize the government and its corrupt system so the authorities are afraid of our jokes," said Maung Thura, a dental student turned stand-up comic barred from the stage since May. "It is very difficult to perform nowadays. Most of the comedians are banned."
Myanmar's brand of humor would seem innocuous in most societies, like a joke now making the rounds that Maung Thura told about a chat by an Englishman, an American and a man from Myanmar, also known as Burma.
"Our man who had no legs could climb Mt. Everest," brags the Englishman, and the American shoots back, "Our man sailed across the Pacific with no hands." Then the Burmese chimes in: "That's nothing. Our country has been ruled for 18 years by a group of men who have no heads."
But such cracks are enough to land comedians among Myanmar's more than 1,100 political prisoners, according to the U.S.-based Human Rights Watch. The organization says the ruling junta "continues to ban virtually all opposition political activity and to persecute democracy and human rights activists."
The recent cyclone in Myanmar has been a severe test of this junta's unrelenting, bitchy chokehold on its citizens. Zargana has a track record of working on behalf of the people, from making films about HIV/AIDS awareness to speaking out in support of political uprisings. In the wake of Cyclone Nargis, he has been no different. Zargana has been working hard to provide relief to victims: he organized deliveries to outlying villages, to the tune of $6,500 worth of goods per day. This work has been financed by other entertainers and rich business professionals--essentially, people who can afford to help but are unwilling to deliver the aid themselves, for fear of government retribution.
Unfortunately, the donors were right to be hesitant. On Wednesday evening of this week, Zargana was arrested at his home in Yangon. The police trashed his house and seized a bunch of computer files ("they're
in the computer?!"), including photos and videos of cyclone victims, as well as footage from the super-extravagant 2006 wedding of the daughter of the junta leader, Senior Gen. Than Shwe. Talk about a class gap. You can read more about it in
this recent New York Times article.
Predictably, this is not the first time Zargana has been detained. In 1990, he was jailed for four and a half years, along with other such dangerous criminal minds as democracy advocate and Nobel Prize-winner
Aung San Suu Kyi and two students each given 19-year sentences (!) for writing some questionable poetry. The closest American equivalent of locking Zargana up that I can think of would be the FBI arresting Lewis Black for volunteering at the
52nd Street Project (which he does, which is awesome). Pretty unthinkable. So what makes Zargana so dangerous?
Well, for one thing he prefers Benny Hill to Mr. Bean (zing). He is also an acclaimed film director, master of the political double entendres (who knew there was such a thing?) and accomplished satirist--essentially, Zargana is a Burmese
Beppe Grillo. In
this 2006 BBC news article, a reporter asks to hear some of his material:
"Ah," he said, almost apologetically, "I'm afraid Burmese jokes can be rather subtle and long".
But he told me one about a newspaper article. A man was reported to have died of an electric stock but everyone knew the paper was lying because the economy is in such a mess that most of the time the power is off.
I suppose if I were an uptight, insecure ruling junta, I'd want Zargana out of my hair, too. Isn't it impressive how relevant comedy can be when it is plopped into a pressure cooker? It's like watching the Daily Show when Jon is having a really "on" night. Except no one is going to break into Jon's Manhattan apartment and throw him in the clinker for showing a montage of clips proving Dick Cheney is a big squidgy liar.
So send positive, pie-in-the-face vibes out into the world for Maung Thura and his comedic compatriots. In that vein, let's close with some Aaron Sorkin-y inspiration, via that 2006
Washington Post article:
Even faced with a performance ban, Zargana seems resolute and brash. He speaks of a "whispering campaign" and insists under-the-table humor will persist in Myanmar's taxicabs, teashops and dining rooms.
"Burmese people love to laugh," he said. "But if I can't speak, jokes will still spread. The people will make them up themselves."
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