The author is a journalist from Yangon who was jailed for reporting on the military’s abuses after the 2021. They received support from The Kite Tales to write these diaries.
From the moment I was arrested, through the interrogations and my time in prison, I constantly dreamt of rescue and escape.
This wasn't just my own private fantasy. Almost every other political prisoner I know harboured similar hopes, envisioning different scenarios of liberation. We'd often discuss these "what if" scenarios, imagining how revolutionary forces could one day burst into the prison and save us. We'd make plans and arrangements, ready ourselves.
Looking back now, it might sound almost funny, but in those prison conditions we clung to those hopes for our very survival.
Every time we were taken to the temporary prison court in a large hall within the sprawling Insein Prison compound, we’d exchange whispered strategies.
"If they dropped a bomb on Insein Prison with a drone right now, while we're in court, and things got chaotic, that would be the perfect time to escape," we'd say.
"If we get out, don't look back, alright? Run for freedom to the liberated areas. We'll meet there."
Inside the prison wards, we formed connections with like-minded young people in different cells. We tried to stay updated on outside news and would consult each other. We'd discuss how we could cooperate and contribute if revolutionary forces launched an assault on the prison from the outside.
We prepared ourselves physically. We'd do daily exercises to maintain our stamina, ensuring we were healthy and strong enough to be able to run if the situation called for it.
The preparations didn't stop there. Each of us packed a small, light bundle containing a single set of drab-coloured clothes, some emergency medicine, a few individual packs of ready-to-eat food, and a bottle of water. We kept these bundles ready.
We also tried to learn the layout and structure of Insein Prison whenever we had the chance to go outside. This meant making mental maps during regular court appearances, the occasional dharma talks in the prison's meditation hall, or trips to the infirmary.
We took note of the number of prison staff and considered how we might break out of prison with brute force.
Every time we heard a bomb blast near the prison, we would feel a surge of hope.
Whenever we heard these explosions, we'd shout "Hey!" so loudly that the wardens would come to scold us.
When we heard two or three loud explosions in quick succession, we'd get our hopes up that they were launching a rescue. Many of us would stay up all night, our hearts pounding, listening intently.
I am free now, but there are still many political prisoners being held across the country and when I hear of them being returned to their families I am filled with joy.
Sometimes there are even news stories of political prisoners rescued from their incarceration by democracy forces. These give me deep satisfaction whenever I read them and take me back to those long night in jail when we would dream that help was on its way and freedom was just one daring raid away.
The artwork is by Songbird who is receiving support from The Kite Tales to produce illustrations.
