Volume One, Chapter Eight: Into the Darkness of Northern Myanmar

At the entrance, an energetic young man of about eighteen or nineteen lay trembling on the ground, clutching his cheek, beaten down by a security guard wielding a rubber baton.

From the murmurs around, it seemed the young man, much like myself, had taken too much food and failed to finish it, then carelessly dumped the leftovers into the trash bin.

Is the fate of an energetic young man who doesn’t finish his meal to end up like me?

From Max’s smile, I knew he wasn’t lying or trying to scare me. I hurried back to my seat and asked, “What exactly is going on? Don’t scare me!”

Isn’t it normal back home to discard unfinished food?

I couldn’t understand why here it was forbidden.

Max rolled his eyes and nodded towards the entrance. “Keep watching, you’ll see for yourself.”

“Get up and eat!”

The security guard pointed a rubber baton at the trash bin where the food was dumped, clearly ordering the young man to eat the food thrown inside.

The young man’s arms were covered in tattoos, giving off a tough and intimidating impression.

Yet here in northern Myanmar, facing a security guard shorter than him, he dared not resist at all. He obediently approached the trash bin, grabbed the food, and forced it into his mouth, gagging repeatedly but enduring the discomfort to keep eating.

“Rice is precious here, especially in Mongpo, you know!” Max paused before explaining, “You can throw away the side dishes if you can’t finish them, but the rice must be eaten. Otherwise, the guard will punish you severely—guaranteed you’ll never dare waste rice again in your life.”

Looking down at the large pile of rice on my plate, I scolded, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Had I known I’d be punished for leaving food, I wouldn’t have taken so much.

“I thought Brother Long told you already, and since you said you were hungry, I figured you could finish it.”

“There’s not that much; just grit your teeth and eat it—I’m waiting for you!” Max grinned with a hint of schadenfreude.

At this point, there was no use blaming anyone.

With the cautionary tale of the energetic young man, even if the food was terrible, I had no choice but to force it down my throat.

In all my twenty-plus years of life, I had never felt such torment while eating.

Finally finishing and stepping out of the canteen, I planned to stroll around to get familiar with the surroundings and help digest the meal. But Max said, “A Dong, unless it’s important, don’t wander outside too much. It looks calm here, but it’s actually very chaotic.”

“You saw how fast the cars drive by. If they accidentally hit you and kill you, no one will care.”

Indeed, the traffic moved at breakneck speed, and drivers seemed utterly unconcerned about hitting pedestrians.

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“Also, although the police here don’t have law enforcement power, they do have the authority to operate, and some undercover agents come looking specifically for fugitives who fled here after committing crimes.”

“Our work here is legal, but if someone takes a photo and sends evidence back home, you’ll still face punishment there.”

“So it’s best to stay indoors during the day—better safe than sorry.”

Hearing Max’s words, I immediately dismissed all plans of wandering about and hurried back to the office with him.

Sleepiness overwhelmed me, and seeing there was still an hour before work started, I laid my head on the desk for a nap.

Just as I was drifting off, Max shook me awake.

Groggy, I saw all the employees standing in the office. I was about to ask what was happening when Max quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

“Before work every day, we have to sing. If you don’t know the song, just mouth along. Don’t fidget—if the Minister sees you messing around, you’ll be punished!” Max whispered, then stood upright.

Music began—a song I had never heard before—and I lip-synced.

I noticed that Ah Long and nine other supervisors stood neatly by the door, not singing but wearing solemn expressions.

When the song ended, a very burly, bald man with a scar across his forehead waved his hand and shouted, “Get to work!”

All the employees sat back down, and the office buzzed with activity again.

“Is that the Minister?” I asked Max, gazing at the scarred man.

Max nodded. “The Minister is like the company’s disciplinary officer, responsible for enforcing rules. When he’s around, you focus on work—no chatting or sleeping.”

“I heard he’s a murderer, ruthless. You’re new here and haven’t seen him deal with anyone yet.”

“Just last week, a new employee was caught sleeping on the job. When he talked back, the Minister broke both his legs without a word.”

Just for talking back? Breaking both legs?

I couldn’t help but ask, “Isn’t he afraid of retaliation? Back home, breaking someone’s legs would lead to lawsuits and compensation. Though you can’t sue here, wouldn’t people seek revenge? And doesn’t such brutality scare off the other employees?”

Max laughed and shook his head, seeming exasperated.

Just as I was about to question it further, he said, “A Dong, you’re still too young to understand.”

“First, you have to realize this is northern Myanmar, not back home.”

“Many know the Golden Triangle is lawless and dark, but this place is no better.”

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“Back home, we’re protected by law. If someone hits us, we can call the police. But here, forget about human rights—we’re just tools for the boss to make money.”

“Just tools. When you’re useless, they replace you. There’s no shortage of people wanting to come here to earn.”

“As for your question about people quitting because they’re scared of beatings? Let me ask you: with the monthly pay here, if you were in their shoes, would you quit just because someone else got beaten?”

“Just remember, here, if you work steadily and properly, you’ll have freedom of movement and get paid.”

“But if you cause trouble and get caught, the mild punishment is a beating and a stint in the water prison. The worst? You disappear from the company the next day.”

“You understand what 'disappear' means, rightI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.