On a patch of rough ground near the Irrawaddy River, aspiring member of parliament and retired Lieutenant-General Tayza Kyaw tries to muster some enthusiasm from his audience with a speech promising them better times.
He is the candidate for the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), backed by Myanmar’s military, in Aungmyaythazan, a constituency in the city of Mandalay.
The crowd of 300-400 clutch the branded hats and flags they’ve been given, but soon wilt in the afternoon heat, some dozing off.
Children run and play in between the rows of chairs. Many of these families are victims of the earthquake which badly damaged Mandalay and surrounding areas in March, and are hoping for a handout. They disappear the moment the rally finishes.
A ‘sham’ election
On Sunday the people of Myanmar get their first opportunity to vote in an election since the military seized power in a coup nearly five years ago, setting off a devastating civil war.
But the poll, already delayed many times by the ruling junta, is being widely condemned as a sham. The most popular party, the National League for Democracy, has been dissolved, and its leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, is locked up in an undisclosed prison.
Voting, which will happen in three stages over a period of a month, will not even be possible in large parts of the country still consumed by war. Even where voting is taking place, it is marred by a climate of fear and intimidation.
When the BBC tried asking people at the rally in Mandalay what they thought of the election, we were told not to by party officials. They might say the wrong thing, one man explained – they don’t know how to speak to journalists.
The number of plain-clothes military intelligence officers present there helps explain their nervousness. In a dictatorship which has criminalised liking Facebook pages criticising the election, or using the word revolution, even these staunchly pro-military party activists feared the consequences of allowing a foreign journalist the chance to ask uncensored questions.
The same fear lingers on the streets of Mandalay. At a market stall selling fresh river fish the customers all refused to answer what they thought of the election. We have no choice, so we have to vote, one said. The fish seller shooed us away. “You will bring me trouble,” she said.
Only one woman was brave enough to speak frankly, but we needed to find a private place to meet, and to conceal her identity, just to hear her view of the election.
“This election is a lie,” she said. “Everyone is afraid. Everyone has lost their humanity and their freedom. So many people have died, been tortured or fled to other countries. If the military keeps running the country, how can things change?”
She would not vote, she said, but she knew that decision carried risks.
