MAKINGS OF ME
These works pertaining herein, are a selection of my trials and endeavours of becoming a governmental servant on both at sea and ashore.
It is in no way an autobiography. Taking this opportunity to appreciate and honour those whom have assisted and helped me in journey to becoming a governmental servant.
An English further education affirmatively did assist in my life’s career and am grateful to the Inner London Education Authority (ILEA), United Kingdom.
Thank you.
FORWARD
This is by no means my biography from A to Z. More correctly, exerts, clippings, episodes and
short essays on some events that shaped my working life. Needless to say, not in any chronological order, as such either. Rather an endeavour to understand myself, the reasons for doing the things I did. It was also the circumstances which converted me to be a scholar of shipping business knowledge. One may term it as a form of reflection/nostalgia. Definitely, only a page from my long career.
Please note these few lines only record my trials, experiences and circumstances that led me to what I achieved. Should there be any points that maybe lacking in my explanations or descriptions, a full apology is tendered, and sincerely request forgiveness.
Every precaution has been undertaken for its correctness. Should some parts be otherwise, a thousand pardons.
Thank you,
Myo Thant
PREFACE
Chapter One: Akin to the sea
Chapter Two: Calling it a day to sea life
Chapter Three: Climatization and bonanza of knowledge
Chapter Four: Home and putting knowledge to work
Chapter Five: Sine waveform of a government servant
Sections. A
Me?
Good Lord, I am no scholar to document the birth of our Burmese marine industry. Further-more, the origins of our Burma (Myanmar) Maritime Shipping industry is well beyond me. I am not fit to comment or shed any light on the matter. Far from it. Correctness of history is of crucial importance. It is after all, a record of past events, worthy of references for any soul(s) of interest. It should be a documentation pertaining to events, maybe containing literature worthy of learning, or something what not to be done or may pose ideas worth exploring. Needless to point out that it is also a legacy of our heritage, for the present and future generations of maritime scholars (in our case). As far as I can recall, there are no written publications focusing directly on how our Burma Maritime industry gave birth, who were its advocates, what transpired for its conception and the people who championed the cause.
It is high time, maybe a wee bit late, but, luckily, still a flicker of life still burning for our Burma
Maritime Industry history to be documented and recorded in ink. As the saying goes, ‘Better
late than never’. The pioneer the likes of Captain Kyaw Thein Lwin (98 years young) is the only Burman still walking tall. For how long, God only knows. On the commercial side, there are no more. For what it is worth, I can only throw a glimmer of vague visibility (from my perspective) through my own experiences, which from the onset is rather limited.
Here goes .......
It all came about in the month of November of 1968, what we would term in the cool season. I was still in my late teens. Through my mentor U Tin Aung (deceased), believe an ex-Radio Officer from the bygone days of Marconi Marine, then the Assistant Manager, General Post Office, I was informed over a telephone conversation that Burma Five Star Line (BFSL) was scouting for a suitable candidate for the post of a Junior Radio Officer. During that period, I was working voluntarily at the Ministry of Mines, Mineral Department, Corporation (MDC) without pay. The department was under the stewardship of U Pe Chit (deceased), ex-Radio Officer from then defunct Union of Burma Shipping Board (UBSB). A job in the radio communications was so very hard to come by. I diligently rushed the very next day in my ‘Sunday best’ to BFSL, making sure that I not wear my usual rubber slippers. I appeared for a personal interview with my ‘ticket’, Postmaster General Second Class (P.M.G. ll) in hand. Questions, questions abound, followed by a barrage of more questions. Then came, ‘Any sea experience?’ I just muttered, ‘Did serve onboard the T.S. Glen Strathallan as a pre-sea radio cadet for about a week, for a short sea cruise to off Brighton and back, together with the majority of pre-sea nautical cadets from King Edward Vll Nautical College, should that count? It was during my tenure at Norwood Technical College, studying radio communications at Gypsy Hill, London’. Few comments here and there and that was it. Interview over.
The training ship shown below, belong to King Edward Vll Nautical College, was a converted
trawler, with bunks in its only one cargo hold and the ship home port was Millwall docks, within the Port of London, in the East End.
My personal interview consisted of U Khin Maung Win (Radio Technician), a few serving Radio Officers, and a some from the management and marine department, whose names I cannot recall, all to judge whether I was worthy to be a Junior Radio Officer onboard a new ship, purchased second hand, to be delivered in Rotterdam, The Netherlands. The pay was to be Kyats 350 monthly, an amount I could only dream of. Money was not the issue, but securing a job was. While the job was on temporally basis, I was most happy just to land one. Furthermore, a job at a government organisation was most difficult and extremely prestigious. The vessel in question was to be a new added tonnage together with another small coaster to the existing and expanding fleet of Union of Burma Five Star Line (UBFSC). Yes, affirmative, I did make the grade. Luck or fate, we shall never know! Those were the days when U Than Tut (deceased) was the General Manager (GM) and U Kyaw Thein Lwin was our Marine Superintendent (MS). In my book, then, our MS was the supreme ‘Heavenly Body’, and no-one beyond and no-one else mattered. It took a few weeks – a month or so, for the documentation and passports to be processed and be in order. I had no Continuous Certificate of Discharge (CDC), but it seemed insignificant under the circumstances and they furnished me with a 'Nelly'. Totally green was I.
Section B
From Rangoon Mingaladon Airport we flew to Rotterdam, via Bangkok, Amsterdam, Geneva,
and the ship’s company included:
1. Captain Khin Maung (deceased), Master
2. U Win Aye, Chief Officer
3. Mr James Gosh (deceased), Second Officer
4. U Hla Than (deceased), Senior Radio Officer
5. U Tin Tun (deceased), Chief Engineer
6. U Tin Kyu (don’ know), Second Engineer
7. U Ba Kyaw (don’t know), Third Engineer
8. U Saw Heman (don’t Know), Fourth Engineer
9. U Aung Khin,(don’t know) a.k.a. ’Naung Gyi’, RIT trained, Electrical Officer A total
compliment, about 35, including myself (the green horn).
Details of the ship were as follows:
Name: HTAN TAW YWA
Previous name : LINDO (Norwegian Flag)
Call Sign: XYMS
IMO Number: 5208982
Type: General Cargo Ship
Built: 1961
Flag: Burma (Myanmar).
GRT: 2749 t
DWT: 4000 t
LOA: 91.5 m
BEAM:14.66 m
Holds: 2 (forward)
Hatch covers: Macgregor - folding type
Lifting gears: 4 sets of derricks
Winches : All electric
SPEED: around 12 knots (with following winds and waves from aft). Average speed 10 knots
m.v. Htan Taw Ywa
m.v. Htan Taw Ywa’s radio station was mainly of Kringkastingsselskapet A/S equipment, being a Norwegian vessel, except for the Marconi Emergency Transmitter operated from 24 volts batteries on the monkey island wooden chest. Bridge and Chart room equipment, such as Echo Sounder and VHF were also Norwegian, except for the Decca Radar on the bridge and the Marconi Direction Finder and Arma Brown Gyro Compass in the chart room. (No GPS or electronic charts, in those days.) As such, the officer of the watch (OOW) had to go out of the bridge, climb up an upright ladder onto the monkey island, take a ‘fix’ with the magnetic compass and climb down, then run back onto the bridge and sprint into the chart room for a plot on the chart. ( Every 5/10 minutes? Phew! All part of a day’s job for them.)
The Radio Room was directly behind the Bridge and connected by a door on the portside. The
cabin was connected behind the Radio Room also adjoined by a door. Point of interest –an emergency transceiver painted bright yellow was placed by the side of pilot’s chair, very accessible in case of an emergency. One more thing, the previous Norwegian Radio Officer was a ‘she’ and provided me with a hair dryer as an inheritance, tucked underneath the bunk mattress. The radio antenna was a long-stranded copper wire, which had to be hoisted between samson posts from the main mast situated on top of the deck house situated between the number one and number two holds, directly to the samson posts bridge beam situated at the monkey island. It was a tedious affair, as it needed to be lowered on entry to port, being in way of derrick booms when they were hoisted for cargo work, and antenna wire re-hoisted on departure from port. Caution and care had to be exercised, as antenna wire insulators were of glass and/or porcelain in those days.
Thus, my sea-going carrier began in earnest with only a passport. I was not yet 20 years old.
My first lesson onboard:
As stated, our Master was Captain Khin Maung. However, to me he was also my alumni, very, very senior Ko Donald McKentosh, from our old school of Methodist English High School (MEHS). After graduating the tenth standard (Matriculation), he furthered his education at Southampton University, as a navigation cadet. As such, I addressed him as ‘Ko Donald’, for which no resistance came from him. However, the Chief Officer said sternly ‘Onboard, he’s the Master, our Captain. Kindly address him as SARYAR, like the rest of us’. My very first lesson, short and sweet. I got the message!
My first ship greeted me after climbing the gangway, with a whiff of fuel oil (bunkers), the stench I soon learnt to be ‘one of those things’, accepted and be not bothered with. A few days passed, then a new Third Officer, joined our ship. A fellow by the name of Hla Aung (Stanley Khoo), an acting Third Mate from another ship from the company’s ship in European port. We bonded a friendship to this very day. Our ship with forward two holds, were fully loaded with Nestle condensed milk cartons. We made for home port escorted by another small coastal vessel from Denmark, named m.v. Pha Shwe Gyaw Ywa, Master was Captain Thein Zan (deceased) and Radio Officer was Dennis Khin Maung Latt (deceased). Our bunkering port was Las Palmas, the Canary Islands, the waves were high, and the ship rolled even alongside while accepting fuel (bunkers). The ship stayed overnight; thus, I was granted shore leave. As my advance money allowance was pittance, I bought the cheapest 35mm camera ‘Corona’ made in Hong Kong and made my way back walking. I had not enough money to take a bus. It was less than an hour’s walk, however the weather was nice.
We steamed together, in tandem rounded the Cape of Good Hope, in fair and foul weather, even though she commanded a better speed. On crossing the equator, our Captain directed me to toll the ship’s bell at the forecastle to mark the occasion. It was in the dark of night and the waves were pounding. I was barely out of my teens and being the youngest officer in the fleet, was honoured to undertake the honoured task which I treasured this day. I do not recall who acted as King Neptune. To cut the long story short, prior to daybreak, both our ships made anchor off the pilot vessel, just outside the fairway road to Rangoon port. The morning air came with the scented aroma of landfall. The smell of home was a welcoming one. Only then did I notice that our ships had weathered what the seas threw at us, loss of good paint works on deck and windward areas, the Chief Officer with his deck crew made good with much haste came first light.
The weather was nice and cool. By mid-morning, during the 0800-1200 hours forenoon watch, from the bridge starboard wing, my good friend the Third Mate, and myself witnessed the plump Transport Minister together with the MS. boarded our good ship, welcomed by the fully uniformed Captain and Chief Engineer. The freeboard was not that high (from sea-level to main deck) by way of pilot ladder. I recorded the whole affair with my cheap camera (all that I could afford) bought at Las Palmas, Canary Islands, during our bunkering call. We were too far down in the food chain to be worthy of even a spot of presence to the boarding party.
Hla Aung (Stanley Khoo), signed off in Rangoon, citing his forthcoming refresher course at the Burma Naval Academy at Seik-kyi, in preparation for his Second Mate Examinations. I would miss his company, but that was the sea life.
m.v. Htan Taw Ywa was my mother ship. On route, I learnt from my Senior Radio Officer, how
to find Rangoon Radio (XYR) on high frequencies, depending on the region where the ship was in. Portishead Radio (GKA) was more accessible, available on most frequencies strong 5/5 signal and available 24/7. According to Volume 2 Radio Signals, I learnt how, where and when to secure weather reports, the best 5/5 sound signal for checking of ship’s chrono-meter and maintenance of emergency battery banks on the monkey island. Lodging daily log entries and filling the Official Radio Logbook required special steps to be followed. Many, many more requirements and how to conduct watches and observance of silence periods were also tutored. After my watches, I would venture down to U Hla Than’s office and be an assistant to him and work and learn the purser’s paper-works including checking of victualling/bonded stores (confined, hot and tedious). Preparation of Portage Bill required undivided attention as it was the paylist for the ship’s company. Only then I realised that I could type at a speed. Typing was an acquired skill. As the ship rolled, so did the type carriage, thus, innovations. Interesting! For the sake of clarification, at times she rolled 35 degrees port and starboard. Ship sailing on smooth seas were rather rare.
Section C
By and by, postings from one ship to another became a norm. Like the winds and waves, theatre of trades would follow suit, Europe today to the Far East next voyage. Regionally, to India, Bangladesh, Malaysia and Singapore or trading around Burma’s coastal ports, Rakhine to the Tanintharyi coasts. The ships maybe different, however, the Radio Stations and its associated equipment remained fundamentally the same. The stations would have a main transmitter, emergency transmitter, main receiver, emergency receiver, auto-alarm, antenna system, emergency batteries banks, battery charging system, emergency transceiver, very high frequency transceiver, radio direction finder. At times, single side band transceiver, radio transceiver. Bridge equipment included echo sounder, radar (at times two), amplitron system, public address system and entertainment equipment. One/two days of handing-taking over would be quite sufficient to check the stores and spares too. After some time, one gets accustomed to it (chicken feed).
My first posting as independent charge on a foreign going ship, after transfers regionally here and there, was m.v. Ava. The Master was Captain Nay Win. Chief Officer U Tin Tut (de-ceased), Second Officer Ye Nyunt (deceased), Third Officer Hla Aung (Stanley Khoo), another Radio Officer Victor Aung Gum (deceased) and Forth Engineer was Peter Than Aung, all good mates of mine. We were all young lads, including the ‘old man’. The ship was purchased new from then, West German AG Weser shipyard in Bremer Haven . As such, cabins along with its amenities were nothing to complain about, maybe except the pay.
m.v. Ava, my first ship to Europe
It was an enlightening experience, trials by errors, sobering to be sure. The voyage each way, north and south bound entails around 27 days at sea, rounding the Cape of Good Hope, South Africa due to Suez crisis that started in May, 1967. In our fleet, a trip to Europe was simply known as ‘West Run’ and not too many of us liked it. The sea passages were long, tedious and many a thing could ‘spark’ off an incident. If given the chance, we would have commented, ‘No thank you very much’. It was one of those bittersweet things one had to endure. The general policy was, one year ‘West Bound’, one year to the ‘East’, and one year sailing regionally and/or posting(s) on coastal service. A funny thing though, should a ship be expected back soon at home port and likely earmarked for another voyage to Europe, some floating staff would tender leave, or have sudden health issues, or may have encountered some social/family crisis etc.
From 1968 to 1978, sailed I did. Enjoyed the ships, comradeships, ports and the variety of cultures and its people. With ten years under my belt, I called it a day. During that time, friends were made along the way and a few enemies too. Many, if still alive, remained friends to this very day. We all were young, proud of the tasks and functions we performed, from galley boy to the Captain. No matter one’s beginnings, where trained, where from, how much educations and
qualifications, age or whatever, onboard, we were all brothers. We all sail together, eat together, work together, drank together, but not slept together. We trusted each other and were never in doubt that they all be there in time of dire situations. We beamed with pride and held up our heads high, ALWAYS!
All in all, sea life was most enjoyable, sobering, slowly but surely, I was becoming a responsible man, on account of having an onboard career.
Chapter Two : Calling it a day to sea life
Section A
The last foreign going ship I served on was the m.v. Pinya, in 1978. That ship then was comm-
issioned to be on our ‘West Run’ trade. The ships were not permanently placed on any one
trade as such, however, were subjected to their turn and trade requirements. Incidentally, I
served mostly on ‘West Run’ ships. I suppose that’s the way the cookies crumbles.
One day in 1978 while my ship was in Rangoon home port, in the comfort of my air-condition cabin, I was merrily sorting out the incoming mails, circulars, correspondences and what not, that were handed down by the Captain, to be distributed as necessary. It was part of my ‘curriculum’ within my job description onboard. Port stay could be anything from a couple of weeks to maximum about one month, depending on the weather, cargo flow and/or whether in ‘export drive’ mode. For us, the longer the better. There, amongst the heap of papers, I came across a general circular. It stated, that our head office apparently was seeking three suitable candidates, either from head office or from floating staff, to serve as Assistant Manager in our Representative offices in Singapore, Tokyo and London. It went on detailing the entry requirements to be eligible for such a position. Should one meet the requirements, contestants were to appear for Part 1 written examinations on Operations Management and Political Science, 3 hours each. Successful applicants then would face Part 2 of the hurdle, personal interview with the Management for the final selection. The closing date for application was a few days prior to our estimated sailing. I read it and ticked it off mentally the requirements. It seemed that I met the application eligibility. Thinking nothing of it, I continued with my tasks at hand and shrugged it off.
One evening, in the comfort of my home, while having our usual meal, yapping with the home minister, my wife, the subject in question cropped up. My ‘Home Minister’ listened intensely and commented that, it might be worth a second look as a sea-going career might not be too well suited for someone with a ‘three years old son’ in the long run. The conversation terminated on an up-beat note. However, as for me, the gestetnered general circular stuck it my mind. For a few days, I thought, re-thought, weighed its pros and cons. That time of period in my life, I was comfortable with my standing, money was okay (a bit more would help), variety of life existed, while also managing to travel the world (Europe and to the Far East) too. Smoked numerous cheroots puffing away in deep thought, drank pots of Burmese tea (with a few voyages on route to the loo). I was never a thinking man, nor a philosopher, my motto was similar to the song ‘why worry, be happy’.
Lacking critical advice and suggestion from a learned one, I pilgrimage to the head office for
a much needed third advice and expert guidance from Captain Myo Nyunt (a.k.a Mhone Gyi=long faced) my Marine Superintendent, old boss, mentor and a wise gentleman, all rolled into one. While I put forth my case, fished his thoughts, he squinted his eyes, at times fully wide open, listened with intense undivided attention. After my monologue, he gave his comments, ‘It’s an excellent career, good idea, should you really want it. Do remember, while your fellow contestants would be from various departments, mostly would be from their (Operations) department. Furthermore, one of the subjects to be examined would be their daily bread and butter. Worth a good thought’.
Captain Myo Nyunt, my old boss, the Marine Superintendent & a Gentleman
With my tail between the legs, I reversed course back to my ship, alongside No.7 Sule Pagoda
wharf, undergoing 24/7 cargo work. At the end of the day, back home I picked up the subject
with my ‘Home Minister Wife’ that evening while at our dinner table. I carefully laid out the dialogue that transpired between myself and my old boss, the Marine Superintendent. My wife wholeheartedly was in unison with my him After the conversation, she got up and climbed a flight of stairs to attend to our son’s cries. The ball was now truly in my court. It was decision time, ‘to be, or not to be’.
As the sailing for Europe was immanent, at long last, I came to the conclusion that it was all for the best ‘family wise’. Sincerely believed I was not that ‘thick’ and would stood the challenge. Besides, I liked and enjoy a good spar. Nothing to lose, worthy of a try. The worst drawbacks would be, not so much money for some months, loss of dignity (did I have any?) and it may also prove my lack of knowledge. With a ‘devil may care’ attitude, I penned the application, duly endorsed by Captain Win Aye, Master of the Pinya, submitted the application by hand, directly to the Marine Superintendent. After a short securitizing, he thundered, ‘As you have finally decided, I shall sign you off the Pinya before she sails. Furthermore, also sign you on Yenan, presently drydocking in Myanmar Shipyard’. The boss got up, reached for his book cabinet and muttered ‘take these few books, I suggest you immerse diligently and make yourself well-versed with this new subject. Make good use of the time and most of all, don’t disgrace yourself and the floating staff’.
Section B
With those few ‘encouraging’ sentences from my Marine Superintendent, a life of self-study began. The sole reason for MS signing me on the Yenan, was to let me have sufficient time to read and continue enjoying the sea allowance, as there was not much work on a ship whilst drydocking. The Master was Captain Khin Aye (deceased). I did read the few books my old boss lent to me. It was double Dutch even with a dictionary by my side. My old boss tried his level best to keep me in Yangon, meaning no loss in my seagoing allowance. But at times, I had to join an actual ship sailing, however, the furthest it went was Mergui, only a few days voyage. Such a ship was m.t. Hlut Taw (built in Burma), sister ship of m.t. Myan Aung, a small coastal tanker which sank on 28.04.2013 after a collision with ‘Malacca Highway’, a car carrier, on the Rangoon River (not under BFSL). m.t. Hlut Taw carried diesel oil in bulk.
m.t. Myan Aung (Not our ship nor under BFSL Management at the time of sinking
I met my first onboard mentor on the subject of Operations Management. He was then an acting Second Officer (Captain Min Aung). I would pester him to explain the terms in the books my MS borrowed me. He did so up to a point. After all, he was still a cadet, and took pains in explaining to me as much as a cadet could. After some time, thus, I began forming a vague picture in my mind fighting to be less alien to the subject.
Port time meant umpteenth voyages to the head office. I would beg, plead, request, whatever it takes for people like U Tun Myat, CII (Lon), from C&I Department, U Bo Ni (deceased), then our Port Captain was a long-time friend , U Myo Thant (deceased), Deputy Chief Accountant on financial understanding and various staff from the agency and harbour departments to explain the terms from a practical experience on the books Saryargyi Captain Myo Nyunt loaned me. With much coaxing, I was getting to appreciate that foreign subject. In fact, they were ALL kind and eager enough to put me on the right track, as it were. The rest was pure and plain slogging. One book I recall was Chartering and Shipping Terms by J Bez.
During the period of self-study, I would pour out my lack of knowledge on Political Science to
all who would lend me their ears Once I drowned myself on self-inflicted sorrows with my brother in-law. He consoled me by introducing me to one of his buddy officers who taught the subject in question at an army college. That was truly my godsend. In the evenings, I made my way to Nawarat Yeiktha, a defence officers’ family quarters. That officer had a quiet, soothing demeanour. We usually would start with a cup of Burmese tea and talked about anything under the sun barring Political Science. Once relaxed, he would commence at a pace my brain could gasp. He started with the basics in plain simple Burmese. No wonder he was an instructor there, he was talented in that regard. I was not a member of the Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP), nor a student of it. I did not read newspapers on that topic either, thus I was very green. We would laugh and joke, slowly but surely I was understanding the principles and fundamentals of Political Science. Each session was around 2 hours. By and by, he also would loan me literatures on the subject. He gave me books that I had not read or seen before. After about 3 months, even though I was not a party cadre, I was informed enough on its fundamental ideology. Some I had to learn byheart what every Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP) Cadre should know, whether I believe it or otherwise. My wife would make sure I could recite backwards.
Came examination time, I could safely say that I was on par in Political Science with my fellow contestants. On Operations Management, ‘book’ knowledge I had to a point, according its literature I read. Experience wise? No comment. To cut a long story short, I made it to Part 2 of my trial. The next morning, I waited outside the ground floor lift, beside the marble steps to catch a glimpse of my Marine Superintendent, after his attendance at the heads of department meeting and to pose a few questions on the completed Part I examinations. As expected, glimpsed the boss, I did. But before I could open my mouth, my Marine Superintendent said, ‘you did not disappointed us’, and made haste to his office in the annex building. That was the tall and short of it.
On the Part 2 interview date, a few of us waited patiently from 0930 hours on the fifth floor for our respective interviews. Before lunch, it was my turn. Inside the MD’s office, the Minister of Transport, the GM and few others sat in a half circle and posted questions that I managed to sailed through. Then the Minister bellowed, ‘You stood first young man. Which posting do you want?’ I replied, ‘London, if possible, Sir!’. Quickly, he shot back, ‘why?’ I explained that being new to the discipline, I would like the chance to further my education in that regard. That was a few minutes inside the air conditioned office. Short and sweet.
Those few days, during my examination period, I was attached to our Marine Department. That was to say, I sat around in the Deputy Marine Superintendent’s office all day and twirled by thumbs. Within a week, a general office order Part 2 on usual off-white gestetnered paper from the Direction Department under copy to me stated that I was to be posted to London and meantime from the effective date stated (the next day), to be transferred to Europe Line. With my copy of the office order Part 2 in hand, I also noticed that a copy was also distributed to the Marine Superintendent. At the close of office that day, I paced outside his office car, hoping a few words. He came out, posed a ‘Mona Lisa smile’ o his face and stepped into his vehicle, and the driver drove off. That was closure to my marine career.
A day in April 1978, as per office order Part 2, at 0930 hours sharp, I reported myself to Europe Line on the second floor. Without a welcoming speech, fanfare or greetings (not that I expected it), the Manager smilingly looked up from his pile of papers and stated that my allocated desk was in the next office. The Manager was U Sein Tun (deceased), ex-London Representative, a steady guy, methodical in his actions, fair-minded and knew what he was doing. I was placed under the ward of U Myint Than, the Line’s Assistant Manager. My job then, was to check transhipment expenses posted by our Hamburg Agents for FOB cargoes (logs and scantling) to Scandinavian ports, e.g. to Malmo, Gothenburg, Copenhagen, Helsinki etc. Within a week, I was well away to checking it by myself. I was introduced to preparation of booking note/list, sailing schedules/instructions by Ko Tin Htoo Lwin, the line’s superintendent. The ice broke I the line, however, it was still freezing. Thanks to my Saryargyi’s books, I did have some sense about it and returned them in person. It was sober on all counts, not a word uttered from my MS, except ‘thank you’.
Off duty in my youth onboard the good ship m.v .Kalewa.
With my new attachment to Europe Line, a sort of entertainment came around teatime in the afternoons It was in the form of lucky draw or lottery. Instead of cards, one turns a page from a thick book, e.g. telephone directory, Lloyds Classification volumes etc. The page must have at least 3 figures. Added all up, the highest number being 9 and the lowest 0. The person that drew the lowest, pays for the afternoon tea around 1500 hours for the whole line. The life was not hectic, playing it by eyes and ears, just taking it all in and picking up things as it went along.
By a week or two, flight tickets were handed to me by U Thant Zyn (deceased), Assistant Manager from the Direction Department. At long last, we were all off in a week. UBA from Rangoon to Bangkok. Thence Air France from Bangkok to London Heathrow via Paris stop over. A wee bit of apprehension, being new to it all, otherwise manageable. On the home front, sold everything one can as money was a scarcity.
Chapter Three : Climatisation and bonanza of knowledge
Section A
London was the busiest airport in the world. While aircrafts were buzzing in the air and the tarmac was lined with various types of planes, our family stepped out of the Air France jet, we have landed at Heathrow airport for all intent and purpose. London during the last days of spring in April/May was unkind compared to Paris. My wife and young son did not appreciate the welcoming English weather even though precautionary clothing were donned. The airport was a metropolis, and people swarmed similar to ants going about their businesses. My young family would soon learn that London had more cold, dull, wet, windy, short days than sunny, bright warm days.
London Heathrow International Airport Arrival Hall in the 70’s scene.
Finding and securing empty trollies were a chore. Incoming passengers’ eyes were pealed and glued to that task, however, after a while we secured two and hastily made for the respective belt and secured our luggages and raced for the arrival hall with our toddler in tow. The arrival hall was also filled with a sea of people, a few with placards and signs, all awaiting eagerly for their passengers. Out in the swamp of people, I spied an oriental gentleman, around fiftyish with glasses which I took it as my manager U aye Cho, the BFSL London Representative, even though not met him. My intuition was spot on, we all made to the exit sign and headed for the taxi stand with a long line of queue. By and by, our turn came around, and my manager directed the taxi driver to the hotel.
On route to town, my manager commented that, if it were him, as soon as the plane touched Paris from Bangkok, he would have taken the next plane out of Paris for London. I enjoyed a stopover in Bangkok and Paris on airline’s account, within the government FR/SR rules on joining time. Nevertheless, I took it as his anxiousness towards our well-being. After about forty-five minutes ride, the taxi came to a stop in front of the directed hotel in Bayswater. My manager stepped out of the taxi and made his way to the hotel but quickly returned. I did not ask what transpired. My manager shared some words to the driver and the black cab took us to another hotel, a few minutes away. Our allotted room was on the second floor, with a queen-size bed, a wash basin plus an added fold up metal bed for our son, that was it. The common bathroom and toilet was available on the first floor. I did not make any negative comments about the room, as did not want my wife to worry. My shared hotel room with the electrical officer in Rotterdam during m.v Htan Taw Ywa delivery was miles better with attached bathroom and toilet. That was in 1968, ten years ago.
I was no newcomer; London was my second home as accompanied my mother posting. Bayswater was a red-light area to put it mildly. Two days elapsed and informed my manager that I found room in Ealing Common, where the rent was cheaper than the present hotel. After much convincing my plight, he finally agreed, however did not make good my taxi transfer expenses. The single room was in Mrs. Merton’s flat fully central heated, my wife and young son shared the single bed, while I kipped with a sleeping bag on the carpeted floor. However, toilet/bathroom was only three steps away from our door, with breakfast and dinner provided. In the case of my wife and son, it was three square meals. Fyi, Mrs. Merton was a good family friend during my mum’s posting there. Within ten days, after a pair of shoes and countless Evening Standard newspapers, I managed to secure a first floor (top) self-contained flat between Ealing Broadway and West Ealing. I made sure my dwelling was out of his physical reach. Later, I learnt that fist hotel in Bayswater was a ‘rent by hour hotel’, thus, no money, no honey, so was the second hotel except daily rental was available too.
We (my wife and I) all came to terms with our predicament. Liked it or not, we were to be in London for about three years. For someone that lived in a tropical environment, it was surely a drastic change, and an English summer can be a wee bit wet and cold too. As for me, I had seen it all before in the early ‘60s. I just had to make do with the cards I was delt. London, I did chose. An idiomatic phrase “look before you leap” seemed appropriate.
A typical London Summer day and its 70’s dress code
Most unexpectedly, I was entering a most cruel, slave like existence of my life. My sea career was heaven and my short stint in Rangoon head office was fair, even though cold shoulders of unfriendliness were prevalent due to an outsider entered their sanctionary, that was understandable. My temple of work (our London Representative Office) was well within the bowels of the Burmese Embassy. It was on the fifth floor. The rackety lift only travels as far as the fourth. The rest was pure leg work. believe it’s good for the heart. On the fifth, there existed the embassy storeroom cum toilet, Third Secretary office (very rarely used) and on the hand, our BFSL Representative Office was fully utilised. Our one room office consisted mainly of much old and used furniture from Burma Trade’s days awaiting their last rites. The room had a large bay window without curtains, untouched for a century, maybe more, for want of its antique authenticity, I presumed. The floor was bare of carpet. There were two work desks, one for the Manager and one for myself. A grey steel wardrobe cabinet (also from Burma Trade days), a wash basin which had seen better days and the added furniture of a faded gold colour tea/coffee trolly. Heating came in the form of an electric heater (one each) beside our desks. Central heating had not yet arrived in our embassy. The only things modern were the telephone system, an electric kettle, bag of sugar, cubes, Carnation milk powder and Brook Bond PG Tips tea bags. Assumption was presumed our manager was not “too in” on furnishing.
Our Burmese Embassy in the centre of London (Mayfair, London W.1 in 70s)
U Aye Cho (deceased) was a disturbed man. His unsavoury demerit traits were too numerous to count in one hand. Embassy colleagues just shrugged their shoulders as not working with him and bear his wreath. I often wondered what might have triggered his personality or whether inborn. His characteristics were absent mindedness, self-serving, miserly, insecure, unknowledgeable, nervous, slow and uncultured soul. The only plus side was his good handwriting. It was beyond me how he came to be a manager in the Operations Department, the all-important commercial arm of our national shipping line. Believe he joined our shipping line since the days when ZIM Israel Navigation Limited, when they managed BFSL. Jews were sharp good businessman, thus a million question. He trusted or believed no one, including himself and his family too. He would seek suggestions and or reassurances regarding work from agents, head office and re-started from the beginning over, over and over again. He dictated telexes to me which I would draft and type. I did so much typing that my speed was good enough to be a professional typist. After reading his proofs, he would amend his messages umpteenth times, and unsatisfied he would re-start from square one. Many a time, I would be punching his messages in the basement telex room, and he would barge in, stopped me from completing it and played the snakes and ladders game. He was also afraid that I would gain knowledge. There was a time whilst I was washing my plastic lunch container in the wash basin which coincided with his opening his steel wardrobe cabinet. On the second shelf, I noticed a famous chartering book by J. Bez. Unknowingly I muttered “that’s a good book”, to which he quickly closed it and without a comment left the room.
Till this very day, I have/had not seen such a sorry, and bewildered eccentric lost soul. I made sure that I was in by 0830 hours as Continental offices opened then, view they were one hour ahead. That gave me the time to prepare the telex messages received from all agents and Rangoon head office. Read, and stacked neatly, I would place them neatly on the manager’s deck for his reading pleasure which would be between ten and ten thirty, depending on his uncharted schedule. The unbearable, taxing, monotony of my working day would only be interrupted by my longingly awaited lunch break of about an hour. I would walk come snow, rain or shine in the nearby Shepherds Market. It had everything. There were shops, eateries, near-by post office, betting establishments, pubs, news-stand, even ladies with keys in their hand, advertising their services outside their doorways, morning till morning. I rarely joined my embassy friends for lunch together with tiffin boxes of home goodies. One of them was my alumni from MEHS. Lunch breaks were my escapade from the highly stressed working environment. It was a de-stressing, de-winding few precious moments, maximum an hour, before the grilling, taxing, torturing, unbearable began again till end of the working day.
A scene of the Shephard Market in 70’s
I had only been in London for a few months and my impression of my manager was not that great, to put it mildly and diplomatically. Having just arrived I wondered how many more years before my perseverance broke down. On one of my walkabouts, I spied a thin yellow cover paperback amongst the popular magazines (including those with photographs of ladies posing invitingly). The paperback was a publication by the Inner London Education Authority (ILEA), highlighting where further education could be got in the United Kingdom, including The City of London. The price tag was only £1.00, but I had to weigh my buying, as my monthly pay was only £245.00. Out of which, my underground fares to work were about £40.00, our share of electricity bill was around £30.00. I tried to limit my son’s expenses to £30.00. Our household was surviving on £60.00 for food, clothing and whatnot say around £30.00, plus I needed to save towards buying a vehicle at the end of my term to sell back in Rangoon and earn some extra money. This was the standard practice for government servants on foreign postings.
A few days later, after countless thoughts, I bought the further academic education guide paperback with the yellow cover. After all, my choice of London was to further my education, as also indicated to my minister, which was indeed lacking to say the least. Looking back, that was the best investment I made in my working life for £1.00. At home, I went through it at length methodically. I observed that School of Business Studies (now Guildhall University), near Moorgate, in the City of London, a stone throw away from the Bank of London, were offering shipping related courses, full and part-time in the evenings. It suited me well . Those days, specialized further education establishments were also known as ‘schools’ e.g. London School of Economics, Medicine, Engineering, Arts, Music etc. I made a few enquiries by telephone and the school mailed me a prospectus, application form and related information. I filled the form for a part-time course on Shipping Certificate (2 years), together with my crossed cheque for the required a mount. Within a week, a reply came back thanking me for my interest, and cheque and the school was pleased to offer me studentship for the upcoming term in October 1978. British postal efficiency at its best. I resigned to commence from the beginning. It meant long days in the office and extensive educational evenings. I was 30 years old. Being not young anymore, I was apprehensive to commence a new career, but it was the right thing to do. Not that I ‘wanted’ it, the more correct word would be ‘needed’ it. With a young family, I wanted to be more responsible, thus I must be well qualified in my newfound career and be also true to myself. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? London was renowned for its education system, and I aimed to litmus test that. Should I return to Rangoon empty handed, I was done for, to be sure. My Representative did not comment either way with regard to my classes. My wife supported my educational endeavours, meaning cutting back more on household expenses to have sufficient funds for my courses and added travelling expenses.
Section B
My first further academic education establishment,
London School of Business Studies (now Guildhall University)
With that, my professional academic learning commenced. In the autumn of 1978, in the drizzle of a dull late October afternoon, left the office at 1730 hours sharp and took an underground tube ride from Green Park station to Moorgate Station. Thence, walked to the School of Business Studies, with my mood matching the grey dull wet weather, anxious of being the most senior student. It was already dark as I approached its enquiries desk. A kind lady with greying hair, smiled and said, ‘Take the stairs, on the third floor there will be a guide board, directing you to room no.( ), you can’t miss it love’. Instructed, I duly obeyed. It was 1755 hours. I twisted the handle door of classroom no. ( ), it opened. Surprise, surprise, surprise! The room was not yet full, but, looking around, I was pleased to notice that the majority of students were around my age. Yes, less anxious introducing ourselves. Some declared that they were solicitors, accountants, marine insurance brokers, bunkering/ shipping/broker company staff with nil greenhorns. Foreigners-wise, there were a few Greeks, a Belgium, a couple of Cypriots and I was the only Asian. Around 1802/03 hours, in walked our lecturer for the evening. Around fortyish, an Englishman with an extra Master and some other qualifications. From the beginning we did start. Then in came an economist in a 3-piece pin-striped suit (believe a city gentleman), last was a young shipping lawyer, to introduce us to English law, tort law, common law and more importantly to us, Maritime Law. The lectures terminated each working day at 2100 hours. During the first year, we also tackled maritime geography, statistics, financial accounting, all geared more towards the shipping business. It was absorbing. I was slowly falling in love with the subjects. Weekends were library days. My local library of Ealing would source books I requested. Should it proved to be unsuccessful, they would buy. As long as one read, they were pleased. Reading can be on any subject. I complied my term papers and theses in that manner. My Ealing library was about thirty minutes’ walk and close by to a shopping area. My wife with my son in tow would do the honours of weekend shopping groceries, while I enriched myself with much needed knowledge. My beautiful wife and son returned to Rangoon after spending three blissful years with me as her special leave of absent was expiring.
Self and son. Never too late to learn.
My first year came and went. In the second academic year, we also attended lectures at Sir John Cass, School of Navigation. It was then part of the School of Business Studies. It was close to Tower Hill Underground Station, which helped. There I was introduced to the subject of Shipbroking and Marine Insurance. I was more at home now, not feeling out of place. On the completion of my second year, I sat for the Marine Insurance Examination conducted by the London Chamber of Commerce. On succeeding same, I sat for the Diploma in Shipping. All went well. Only then did I realized that we had been lectured by the crème de crème, not only London, but the whole country with regard to shipping economics. People such as Mr. R Brown CII, renowned marine insurance author, lecturer and P&I Expert . Captain Pat Alderton, holder of an extra Master with a list of other academic qualifications and also a renowned author, Mr. Chris Hill , a lawyer and an established author of many Maritime law books, Mr. Fred Colpus, a shipping man from Fred Olson Lines, and many, many more, whose names I cannot recall. For sure, all were from the marine industry, and they all love teaching their discipline subject(s).
AN EPISODE OF SHIPBROKING
During the days of my studentship for Shipping Certificate second year examinations and Diploma in Shipping, my eyes spied a rather large group making its way to a lecture hall. A fellow classmate of mine noticed my gaze and commented, ‘Shipbroking Class’. It was in the Sir John Cass, School of Navigation (believe now part of City University). On enquiry, I was informed that there was two Shipbroking Courses, Part 1 and Part 2. Part 1 consisted mainly of fundamentals, whereas Part 2 was all things shipbroking. The plump lady with the horned rimmed glasses from the office noticing my oriental features further made the point that Chartered Institute of Shipbrokers examinations were only open to British subjects and those from the Commonwealth countries, which squarely disqualified me being a Burmese national. However, she graciously added that I was welcomed to attend the courses. That intrigued me greatly. As I could spare some hours during the evenings, I enrolled for both Part 1 and Part 2. Partly being inquisitive and partly hungering for all things related to the shipping business.
The courses had already started and little old me in their midst. The lectures were packed, maybe around 30/40 students in each part, however devoid of any of oriental origins, be it from Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia or the likes. This was not the case for all types of accountancy courses in the School of Business Studies at Moorgate. Maybe those course qualifications held more lucrative prospects.
Back to Shipbroking Courses. As foreigners, there were a few Cypriots, some Europeans and the rest were City gentlemen, mostly in their pinstriped suits, and a few young ladies donning dark suits. Me? The odd one out in an all-season blue-black blazer. They all worked for shipbroking firms of one kind or the other in the ‘City’. They were all there to enrich their own personal professions and maybe also for more pay dangled at the end or a ‘must’ imposed by their firms. The courses were conducted and lectured by present or retired shipbrokers with a string of qualifications after their names. Absorption was no hurdle for me as I was hungry for all things shipping.
The shipbrokers’ Mecca was/is the Baltic Exchange in London. Founded in the 18th Century, it is and still going strong in this day and age of the internet, emails, etc. Their words are worth in gold. Business of chartering was done over a handshake, on its main trading floor, coffee houses, and other inhouse premises, thus their motto ‘our word is our bond’ which is to be followed up by emails and other forms of communications. However, should the unthinkable happens and if one goes back on his word, and is duly reported, the guilty party would be expelled. The Baltic Exchange is the world’s only independent source of maritime market information for the trading and settlement of physical and derivative contracts. Its international community of over 600 company members encompasses the majority of world shipping interests and commits to a code of business conduct overseen by the Baltic. They also have a potato market. What one learns are put to test at the Baltic Exchange.
Renowned The Baltic Exchange Crest
There, I befriended an English ‘City’ gent by the name of Andrew Tate, a tall handsome guy hailing from Wimbledon. Over a cup of tea in the cafeteria, he enlightened me that he worked for ‘Galliano Green’, a shipbroking house at one time. They were Burma Five Star Line’s (BFSL) London shipbrokers who fixed over a hundred vessels on Time Charter Trip (TCT) per year before my time. He was then working for a Korean Shipowners, but unhappy he was. I believe a clash of cultures. Andrew said, the money was okay but that he might seek another position in The City. Other than that, whom am I to comment?.
At one time, I missed a class on account of one of our ship being at the Port of London required urgent revised latest booking list to ensure no cargo loading disruptions. As such I needed Andrew’s notes to update myself. While I expressed my dilemma, he smilingly said, ’ By the way, I know of two young nice-looking lady shipbrokers who would like to go onboard a general cargo ship’ . The very next day I telephoned the ship for arrangements; the master , Captain Tint Phyo concurred the request, being a good friend of mine since my sailing days. The good Captain offered his dayroom for the excursion, stating that a special meal would also be arranged, plus a steward would also be on standby. His cabin key could be got from the duty officer of the day. He profusely tendered his apologies for not being there, on account of prior commitment with his friend to spend the Sunday with them and could only be back on Monday, earliest by 1000 hours. Thus, after the necessary excursion, to kindly leave his cabin key with the duty officer. All shipshape now.
Came Sunday morning, my good friend Andrew and myself were on top of the gangway onboard the m.v. Ava, alongside West India Docks, and eagerly awaited his two lady friends. They showed up around 1030 hours carrying small overnight bags. After a pleasant chat in the captain’s day room, they enquired for the ‘loo-head’ to which they were promptly directed in the captain’s quarters. With smiles beaming, we both waited for our guests in much anticipation. After a few minutes, they showed up adorned in white boiler suits with white plastic helmets. Given the chance, they said, they would like to see the inside of cargo holds and hatches. Thus, off they went with the Duty Officer and Bosun. They did justice to our luncheon spread, and continued their tour of the ship, including the engine room. By early evening, they said that there was no space left in their stomachs, thanked us for the excursion arrangements as this was their first time onboard, and departed around 2000 hours. We both were left high and dry fully anchored with dejection. That was the last time I made such arrangements. Lesson well learnt.
The shipbroking lectures included discussions on various types of charterparties, importance of their clauses, riders and associated legal implications, which game me much insight. To me, it was all very interesting. Never had I experienced any, even though term papers were a pain in the a--. This was well beyond my manager’s knowledge and would be of use, back in Rangoon.
At a much later date, I came to understand as to the reason why Burmans were not permitted to sit for the ICS examinations (ruling later changed). During the endeavours for Burma’s independence in 1948, understood Lord Clement Attlee, then Prime Minister of UK, informed our U Aung San that whilst independence would be granted, to stay within the Commonwealth, which he refused, thus I believe Burma was treated as outsider of the circle and not being permitted to sit for the ICS examinations were one of the repercussions. It was all a political move. Likewise, the same circumstances occurred when Lee Kwan Yu founder of Singapore talked about his country. However, they remained as a member country of the British Commonwealth. Thus, no such difficulties faced Singaporeans.
Note:
Should Singapore had refused to be a member of the Commonwealth, Prime Minister Wilson might have imposed penalties, likewise Burma.
Section C
Sir John Cass School of Navigation, Tower Hill, London.
(Believe now part of City University)
Years had rolled on by and it was yet time again to refer my yellow cover thin paperback booklet on further education guides, that I had bought for £1.00. on the commencement of my tenure in that great city of London. Even though late in life, I was still hungry for knowledge, it dawned on me that there were so many aspects of our transport industry that I lacked. There were top notch universities in the likes of Oxford, Cambridge, Southampton, Bristol, Southshields etc., however, they were situated outside of London, well out of my reach. The guide stated that North London Polytechnic (now University of North London), Holloway Road, was conducting courses for The Chartered Institute of Transport (CIT) membership examinations. Now that I possessed a string of English shipping qualifications made me more confident. As such, I rang up the course director and enquired about my eligibility and course fees. I was pleased to note that a string of subjects from CIT examinations were exempted on the strength of my qualifications. Towards my Membership, I only needed to appear for my Transport Policy and Planning (TPP) paper, that I am not allowed to fail, plus another subject of my choice. I chose Physical Distribution Management (PDM). Both subjects requiring only one year part time of my time investment. Thus, at the end of my third year enriching knowledge, I enlarged my field of study. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, thus I dived right in. Home Minister support was a hundred percent.
North London Polytechnic
(now University of North London)
Attendance of the final year CIT courses was a new ball game altogether. The studentship was more varied - people from the airlines, railways, roads etc., but mostly from the logistic aspects. I took a sabbatical retreat from shipping and fortunate to enjoy the liberty of continuing my studentship of shipping economics at The School of Business Studies, Moorgate, at a later date. Came CIT examination time, I was successful on my PDM paper, but failed my TPP examination, the subject I was not permitted to fail. The next examination was in a year’s time. That shook me. My first academic failure in London. Only then did I realise that I had wasted a year that I could have invested on other subjects. It dented my confidence. A loss I had not contemplated in a million years. With time on my hand, I dissected my failure. Methodically, similarly to a surgeon, I took pains to ensure, all factors were accounted for. In my blue cotton track suit, my usual staying at home attire, I sat cross- legged in front of my television set, without hearing or seeing the programmes, my mind questioned each issue.
After three/four days, I analysed and weaknesses, there were many:
1). Insufficient time was invested to TPP.
2). Over confidence on the subject.
3). Did not read books relating to TPP sufficiently.
4). Out of touch with TPP.
5). Did not appreciate its importance sufficiently.
6). Greed - wanting too many qualificators in a limited period. Wrong of me to kill the goose
that laid the golden eggs.
7). Required more exposure with scholars from the logics field for better understanding.
8). Needed to invest more time with my newfound friends from other fields of transportation.
9). To take nothing for granted.
10). Not to eat what one cannot chew.
11). Not to make the same mistakes again.
That additional year, after working hours, my lifestyle changed completely. All free times were now allocated to TPP and logistics. I went to talks, seminars, listened to lectures conducted by TPP and logics experts. It was not that difficult to source, magazines, trade newspapers, words of mouth from contemporises, and daily newspapers did the trick. I left no stones unturned, dedicated fully to reading Transport Policies presented at the House of Commons, kept tabs on how pressure groups prepared their ‘white paper’, and last but not least, lots and lots of time invested to actually understanding Transport Policies. All course lectures on TPP was given all my eyes and ears fully. Study I did. Ate less, kept fit and laziness was thrown out of the window.
By the year’s end, I got through my remaining TPP examination paper. However, I had to wait a month or so, before I was recognised by the CIT of my success in that all important milestone examination and be allowed to use MCIT (Lon) letters behind my name. It was all duly published in the monthly CIT magazine. I let out a sigh of relief. At least I was now a full fledge member of an elite group of professionals. Back home, it would mean one more paper to hang on the wall. At the bare minimum, I would be at par with the lot of them. To quote Julius Creaser: “Veni, vidi, vici. Translated I came; I saw; I conquered”. Looking back, my thinking was a bit immature. On cloud nine to be sure. Satisfied, I wrote to our General Manager (GM) of my examination successes. In The United Kingdom, MCIT is recognized as a first degree, whereas In the United States, it is equivalent to a master’s degree. I now could recommend any person in my capacity worthy of an associated membership AMCIT, with sufficient qualifications to our Chartered Institute of Transport. Not too shabby, yes?
Completed my minimum goal, I referred back to my London School of Business Studies and was accepted to undertake Master of Philosophy (MPhil) classes. There were less than ten of us. The lecture classes were interesting, however, short lived. We were supposed to hand in our thesis, and the time allocated was 1/2 years. We were provided with supervisors, and we were to read and submit our papers to our respective supervisors. It was a lonely task. Time was spent mostly in libraries as usual, reading books, writing papers and documenting various researches. I could not refer to my comrades, as each thesis differs. I have been slogging at it for nearly five and a half years. I needed a rest, studying was getting to be overbearing and tedious. As I did not enjoy it anymore, I threw in the towel. Furthermore, I was missing my family in Yangon and living a life of a bachelor was taking a toll on me.
Section D
I wrote private letters to head office for my replacement, but to no avail. The Management was taken in by my educational endeavours and happy with my performances. Educationally, it was okay. However, private and personal life-wise, it was something else. Besides, without knowingly, I was getting too comfortable to the European style of life. Should I remained further, most likely I would be casting my nets somewhere else. I pestered my wife during our weekly telephone calls to persist about my transfer back with my Managing Director (MD). My evenings now were either spending time with my friends or visiting my embassy friends’ homes. A few months withered by. One day, the transfer order for marching back home came.
My relationship with the manager did not improve throughout the years and was downhill all the way. After my few days in London, the needle on my graph moved for the worst. I executed my jobs as a robot, no more, no less. I was a slave, do as told and not complain. Thoughts, feelings and even imitated plastic smiles were hard to maintain. In my whole life, I have never met such a person. I was afraid to pick up my telephone at home, as he would call at all times and shower me with his insecurities relating to work. I had to devise calling codes, so that calls can be recognised as telephone rings gave me jitters. The relationship was not healthy for him or myself. However, to be honest, there was a blessing in disguise, a silver lining. I became more focused on my studies. My passport from my predicaments. Otherwise, I would have achieved nothing. My infamous BFSL Representative was a self-important busy man. As such, like the saying, ‘let sleeping dogs lie’. Best for him to be left alone and in so doing be non-infectious. For the record, due a severe stroke at work, U Aye Cho, after an untimely recrement as Acting Deputy General Manager, Operations, passed away in Rangoon.
In 1984, bided my fond farewell to my embassy colleagues, way back childhood school friends, such as Dr. Leo Kyaw Thinn, Dr. Richard Lin Bin, residing outside of London, with whom I spent many a weekend to get away from it all, plus Tun Tun, my young bachelor friend They had become a form of family, me being alone. Other notables from the embassy were U Hla Pe Than, Third Secretary (retired Minister Counsellor, Ministry of Foreign Affairs), U Khin Maung Linn (then Chancellor) and Warrant Officer (Air) Aung Tun (deceased), and many staff from our Burmese Military Attaché’s Office. They were all my extended family for sure.
It needed to be recorded, U Hla Pe Than graciously accepted my request and witnessed my award ceremony of Second Prize in whole of the U.K. Shipping Diploma examinations. The Lord Mayor of City of London at the Guild Hall performed the honours. U Hla Pe Than was not only a good friend, but also a truly a remarkable learned man, later he became the Minister Counsellor at the Burmese Embassy, Canada. Sadly, he is no more. He will be greatly missed.
The Guild Hall, City of London
Halleluiah, halleluiah, halleluiah! FREE AT LAST!
Chapter Four :
Section A
As I stepped off a short UBA flight from Bangkok, in my three-piece grey pin stripped pure new wool suit, the hot sticky weather greeted me that drenched me in sweat. At Rangoon Mingalardon airport arrival hall, I was met and welcomed by my family, my best friend (Peter Mo Kyaw) and my colleague U Thant Zyn (deceased), Assistant Manager, Direction Department. Among U Thant Zyn greetings and welcome, he stated that office order Part 2 had been circulated that I was to be reported back to Europe Line (EL), my original first line I served in the Operations Department. Peter drove us in his Canary Yellow VW Beetle 1303. It was great to be with the family again, but the weather was not too kindly.
Rangoon Mingalardon Airport in the 70’s
The next morning, I presented myself at Europe Line (EL) on the second floor. Courteous plastic smiles all-around of course. Around 1130 hours, my new boss, Manager U Saw Sein Tun Kyaw, after his morning head of department meeting came in and made his welcoming speech:
Free Translation :
“Nobody seemed to want you. Most are of the opinion that, you would be ‘cocky’, a ‘snob’ having this and that qualifications, young and free spirited too. Not putting it to a finer point, also ‘unmanageable’ and unwilling to follow orders, coupled with a dash of stubbornness. On majority consensus, I was to accept you.” It seemed my London Representative Manager have made his orientations. The beauty of telephone communication.
I did not have, ‘the grapes are sour’ attitude. No problem as these attitudes were well expected. Afterall, with the ‘slave treatment’ in London, I had thick skin. It cannot be worst than the London dungeons.
U Saw Sein Tun Kyaw was a Karen national, they are well noted for their straightforwardness and bluntness, however, I did not know how to counter his speech. I did forced out a Monalisa smile. Supposedly I was to be as his ‘wingman’, so began my next chapter. The Manager had a reputation as a sincere man, blunt, and might lack some diplomacy, but he was known for his truthfulness to a fault. A fair-minded person one might categorise him. He was known for says what he means and means what he says. He walked his talk. I was well advised by my ‘sources’ in advance.
I knew from the onset that all would be judging me (and I expected nothing less), watching every step I made. The harder I fell, the better would they feel. Behind those imitation smiles, ‘the Ides of March’ were upon me. Julius Creaser may not have stood a chance, but I intended to prove them all wrong. Firstly, I surveyed my battlefield - Europe Line (EL), I also took stock of the war (Operations Department as a whole). Fighting back was not the answer, I would have fought a losing war. Winning over with deeds in terms of hard work was. Swaying hearts and minds would be a long-drawn-out affair, but as the saying goes, ‘Rome was not built in a day’. I persevered before and this was a walk in the park.
In EL, there were five souls in total, four much older than me, one was a junior to Operations, believe straight from university. Winning over the Manager would be insufficient. By hook or by crook, I also had to win over Ko Tun Kyaw (deceased) Superintendent, Ko Aye Kywe (diseased) – retired, Branch Clerk and Ko Maw Than Oo, lower division clerk (Manager of Coastal Service-retired) too. I knew It would be a monumental task. I had to give it my best shot. It was the only way of staying alive and proving my worth.
Burma (Myanma) Five Star Line Head Office in Rangoon.
Similar to other commercial organizations, our Burma Five Star Line was no exception. My personal policy was to stay faithful to my line and Manager and remain aloof. Afterall, I had been freed from the London chains of oppression. Anything thrown at me here would be like a peck on the cheek. I was glad just to be free. I knew what makes shipping business tick and now was the time to prove in worth. I will not be swayed to any sides.
My family resided in an area called Mayangone. Better term would be a suburb, in fact outer suburbs of Rangoon would be more appropriate. Quite a way from our downtown head office. It was the best I could do and rented a property on the goodwill of my MEHS alumni U Khin Maung Lynn (MOFA retired) and his kind wife Daw Yi Yi Win, friends from Burmese Embassy, London. We are still good friends to this day. Commuting to office was by way of busses, changing twice, at times thrice, just short of two hours and for good measure some legs exercise. I tried to be earlier than my manager in the mornings, but as saying ‘win some, lose some’ does not apply here since the boss commutes by car. As such, I always lost.
Work-wise, it was a total contrast from my London dungeon days. I was encouraged to express my views together with others and the Manager would weigh our proposals. Should there be disparity, he would lay all the cards on the table. My new gained knowledge were put to the test, that was new to me and very pleased I was, full marks to him, To my subordinates, not only did I show knowledge, empathy, willingness to be their friend, and honestly admitting my ignorance on subjects I had no clue about. I also tried to be someone who could be relied on, working my a** off. I provided guidance freely on shipping matters that I know of, to one and all. I might not have their support as yet, but gradually I was slowly becoming less of their enemy (my assumption).
In all honesty, I did have a slight advantage. My command of the English language, even though not perfect, was a wee bit better than them. However, as for our Burmese language, ‘no fight’. They all were miles ahead. Mr. know it all, I was not, nor did I portrayed myself as such. I made it a point ALWAYS to be a ‘wingman’ to my boss. I was weak in office ideology. It was the era of BSPP, they yearned compliance, similar the military. One of the day’s slogans, loosely translated was, ‘I don’t want the excuse of a leaking water bottle, just want water’. I did not wait for orders. I just learnt to sense what was required of me and showered it by with deeds (work). My London Representative confidential representations were loosing ground.
My boss was a learned gentleman. He knew his bacon. He was trained in Israel and Norway regarding shipping. The difference between London and here in Rangoon was like oil and water. We talked the language of shipping on the same wavelength. His command of both English and Burmese languages was above par, second to none, better than mine to be sure. Second fiddle I played, and I was not side-tracked by my resolution. I recall an episode; he asked me to draft charter party terms on a prospective Time Charter Trip (TCT). I was honoured and thrilled to bits. These type of job usually was done by the managers themselves, as it involves money and liabilities. Those days, BFSL was chartering ships quite a bit on TCT basis, for the loading of sizeable, uncovered tonnages from Europe. I poured my heart and soul in it, and I took it home as homework to enable submit my draft the next day to show my dedication.
U Saw Sein Tun Kyaw with his reading glasses scrutinized my draft. After a spell, he said, ‘ the protective clauses are sound to be sure. However, we are not lawyers, we are but shipping men trying to fix a charter. By your proposed terms, no party would conclude a contract with us. Remember, give a little and take a little. That way, a fixture can be finalized.’ I got the message. Till this day, the lesson taught stuck in the annals of my mind. I never made the same mistake. Correct type of ship, fair terms to both parties with market rates (hire) were a remedy for success. Yes, I watched his methods. Experience counted. A cool mind, a thinking brain, knowledge and steady as she goes were the winning combination.
Section B
After my boss retired on 30 years’ service rendered, yet he was still very much under 60, I took over the position as Acting Manager for a few months, until Captain Win Aye took over EL had a satellite service under the name of Tramp Services, it consisted of three persons. U Po Tha (Superintendent), my wife’s contemporary from Institute of Economics days, U Kyaw Sein Win and U Maung Maung Thwin (both Branch Clerks). In those days, Burma exported sizeable lots of cement in bags to Vietnam on ‘Contract of Affreightment’ (COA) basis. The demurrage/dispatch were settled with Myanmar Ceramic Industries Corporation (MCIC) as shippers towards loading and with buyers at discharging ports. Being ‘wingman’ for my boss, the workload thus became heavier. The Managing Director (MD) then was U Shwe Than. He directed me to take over the helm of the Research and Development (R&D) Department, with U Kyaw Nyein from Accounts as associate. The R&D office was on the second floor, about 6’ x 10’, fully walled on three sides by hastily erected plywood, outside the toilets. The inheritance from our old boss without pay (of course). The aroma was much to be desired, however, we spent as little time as possible there, except for our rows and rows of files.
Those days, the extra, extra work loads were to be seen as an honour without any extra money or privilege. It was to be taken in as a reward for being knowledgeable, fit for the task and to be relied upon. In short, biting our plights and tried best to cope with the dire situation.
Believe, this would be an opportune moment to paint our Managing Director (MD) U Shwe Than. He was an ex-Army Colonel and an ex-Chief of Police, then in his fifties. He was trained and passed out from Sandhurst Military College, U.K. Furthermore, it was understood that he was the only army officer with wings on his left chest, as he was fully trained to pilot small aircrafts for surveying battlefields. Every Friday evening, he would proceed to Phoogyi, his weekend retreat, where he would read Lloyds Lists, Seatrade, Telegraph magazines etc. and circled suitable articles in red marking pencil. My job together with U Kyaw Nyein (Assistant Accounts Officer) was translating the said circled articles into Burmese on Mondays for forwarding on to the Minister of Transport, whether read or otherwise remained a mystery. The MD was a vivid reader on shipping matters and would demand my patronage on some evenings for clarification on topics of his interest concerning commercial shipping. On such evenings, a cup of coffee was offered but no biscuits. Of all the MDs I served under; nobody came close to the wealth of his shipping knowledge. He was no pass over to be sure, a Burmese inspector Maigret.
For us, the Operations Department, the week climaxes on Tuesday afternoons. This being so, as commercial matters were put up, discussed and decisions provided. The operations meetings was chaired by the MD together with the General Manager (GM), the Deputy General Manager (DGM Ops) and the Marine Superintendent (MS) for clarifications on marine matters. All three foreign going lines were represented by their respective Managers, Assistant Managers and Superintendents. Cases were chalked on the CinemaScope blackboard and respective lines would take turns in their explanations and proposals (if any). Urgent cases could be addressed, as and when the situation arises, otherwise, it’s the operations meeting, where all matters were duly recorded in print for want of non ambiguity.
Believe I was shipped out in the 1980’s to Meiktila towards attending the 3 months supervisory course. What I do recollect was the coolness of the weather, nippy at times, thus it must have been January to March. I was instructed to attend the Supervisory and Management Course there as Paunggyi Service Academy already commenced. BFSL had never sent anybody there before. I was the ‘test’ case. Years later, I found out that the MD wanted to promote me to the rank of Manager, o account of my knowledge and performance. However, believe Daw Hla Hla Kyin, ex-army officer (deceased), Deputy General Manager of the Direction Department pointed out that I had not completed the Paunggyi Service Academy, which was a prerequisite for selection grade officers. To cut the long story short, the course was nothing new. As the saying, “Seen that, done that”, thus securing the best cadet and the first price school’s crest was no big deal. Returning to Rangoon, I presented my mementos of a Burmese teak long boat and my first price school’s crest to my MD. All smiles, he placed the Burmese long boat among his choice pieces on his office mantle and returned my trophy crest back. Just for the record, no one ever stood first again from BFSL. I was the first and last. Funny thing though, the mentioned 3 months courses were arbitrary with reference to promotions. For the record, I was not promoted.
Back in the office, I continued with my chores. One day I was surprised to catch sight of U Aye Cho, my ex-London Representative Manager. Thank God the management had allocated him to Other Lines (OL), out of my hair. However, I felt sorry for the souls under his charge. At least, they would not have to suffer it alone. My work had become automatic and mundane. Captain Win Aye was promoted to Deputy General Manager (DGM) Operations and his place was replaced by U Tun Mra, a thin tall sportsman in his youth of University days. I now had the luxury of watching the politics on our floor. There was very much of it though I stayed aloof. The majority of them had been in Operations for donkey years and I remained an outsider. I was just happy not to be in chains again under U Aye Cho.
Along the way, I cannot recall when, our MD was promoted to the post of Deputy Minister of Transport. U Shwe Than did rather well on all accounts. By the time he was promoted, amongst them, he was well versed on the commercial aspects of shipping. Out of all the MDs that served BFSL, he was the only one that took pains to understand commercial shipping. The vacant slot was promptly replaced by Colonel San Wai (Navy). He also valued my shipping knowledge, however, did not take much notice of the musical chairs. Afterall, it was well beyond my pay grade, and our voices mattered none.
The 8888 uprising
It was on 8th August, 1988, the whole county united and revolted against the military junta. Prices were on the rise, salary for the masses were pittance, health situation was poor and the economy was badly managed. It was a general strike throughout the country. During the 8888 uprising, we had to take turns sleeping in the head office. During my turns, I slept in the meeting room on the fifth floor on the polished tables as it was airconditioned and I did not need a mosquito net. Duties included manning the in-coming telex messages and attending to any emergency matters after office hours, evenings and nights, those were part of the job description. No official transportation was provided as such. By that period in time, I owned a small VW Beetle 1200cc, 1961 model. Weaving through back roads, I managed to make it between home and office. One had to constantly keep an open ear, as one day and the next were never the same, and thus I might require alternative routes. Some days, walking and hitch hiking were the only mode of transportation. Regretfully 8888 uprising was not a success, but for the ruling junta, it was a rude awakening.
8888 uprising in Rangoon & whole of Burma. Photograph depict BFSL staff
Came July 1989, I was promoted to Manager and was transferred to Far East Line (FEL). All told, I served as Assistant Manager for 11 years from 1978 to 1989, where I toiled from novice, through all kind of weathers, come rain or shine, no easy journey in the least with scars on my back as proof. By no mean feat, a fast route. However, experience, now I had. Funny though, even with a sack full of qualifications, come promotion time, it was comparable to our Burma Railways (BR), be it the fast train or the local, Time of arrival are the same.
One wonders?????
Chapter Five:
Section A
Those days, Far East Line (FEL) was not as busy as Europe Line (EL) + Tramp Services(TS). Furthermore on the bright side, office space wise, it was the best of all the lines. To start off, being manager, I had a room to myself. Big table, swivelling chair, a metal cabinet, air-conditioning, a rather large wall to wall antique framed map of the world. Whatever, definitely status-wise, it’s right up there. The adjoining room were staffed by my team of four colleagues. Yes, it felt good. Commercial shipping-wise, Far Eastern countries were all my designated stomping grounds. With the new-found promoted rank, I was now in the selection grade executive group, that came along with a fringe benefit. e.g., an office van (Mazda B600). It may be small and somewhat slow but, in those days, it solved many problems. Travelling was on a whim. Its petrol (gas) was paid for by the office. Thus, I was also able to use it for the family after office hours. Plus, I was able to claim maintenance fees and use the office mechanics who were at our disposal during office hours. Pay was more in the range of respectability, and prestige came hand in hand. I was 41 years old. A middle-aged true-blue executive, however, still maintaining as the youngest selection grade executive within the organisation.
FEL entailed more negotiations with local shippers on their cargo volume, discharging port and time factor. My main concern was lumping their respective cargo to one common port, port discharging time and coordinating with inbound Japan/Korea-Rangoon cargo . Traditional Japan bound cargo were less compared to China’s rising thirst for Burma hardwood logs. Those were the days. However, trade was such that our monthly sailings were still sufficient and no requirement for chartered-in vessel(s) unlike Europe Line (EL). I now had more time to oversee the ship cargo operations. The van proved to be mighty
Manager rank office car, B600 Van type
At this point, an address of our General Manager (GM) – U Than Tut (deceased) befitting. He was a strong leader on commercial operations, and on insurance (C&I) matters too. A stern man, direct, exacting, he hardly smiled, but led a simple life and a strong source of shipping knowledge. He had simple tastes, lived by the book and expected others to always stay within the boundaries of all laws. He was an accountant by trade. A Chartered Accountant trained in Edinburgh, Scotland, UK. He was brought into BFSL as a Deputy Chief Accountant during the era of the Burma Economic Development Corporation, established by the Defence Services Institute (BEDC), formerly (DSI), which was Burma's largest economic enterprise in 1959, under the first military take-over by General Ne Win. Incidentally, this was an era when Burma had a five-year management agreement with ZIM Israel Navigation Company. He was later promoted to GM and retired as such. A vivid reader on shipping law and marine insurance. He was our last authority on shipping matters. At one time he held the reins the BFSL, when the MD was also the Minister of Transport and unable to give much time to our shipping line. BFSL did prosper under his stewardship. One could term him as ‘the last of the Mohicans’. Foreign academically educated personnel were ever since (except me).
When I became manager of FEL, as stated U Shwe Than have been promoted to Deputy Minister (there were two of them), and BFSL stewardship was transferred to Colonel San Wai (Navy). Different MDs, different styles. As one ancient philosopher said, ‘all roads may lead to Rome, however, the roads differs’. Both had their own way of tackling issues. At least, they addressed the problems rightly or wrongly.
Part B
Foreign capital was a scarce commodity in our country, thus state enterprise commercial shipping business now took in a different turn. The then Rangoon Port Authority had a joint venture (JV) with Myanmar Container Lines (MCL), a foreign company, shaping the Burmese commercial community with containers. Containerisation have finally arrived to our shores. They commenced the first dedicated container feeder service between Rangoon and Singapore. As such, BFSL being the national shipping line of Burma suffered, as no such service. Being a socialist managed country, should any shipping to be done, it was us, the BFSL, not the Rangoon Port Authority. A study was conducted while I was still an Assistant Manager in Europe Line (EL) and came to the conclusion the Jardine Shipping Lines (JSL), Hong Kong was the appropriate correct choice, as their network was worldwide and both parties could benefit from the Joint Venture (JV.), importantly much needed foreign capital was injected by them alone. JSS/JSL also did a study on us, and in short BFSL conducted a dedicated container service and MCL packed their bags due their unableness to compete with us.
The BFSL container feeder service (MFSL CFS) was a success story. It started the ball rolling with one charter vessel “Integra”, on completion of its time charter, MFSL CFS continued with her owned multi-purpose two vessels. The profit share scheme was BFSL 51% and JSL 49%, while BFSL further enjoying its daily charter for the mentioned two vessels at prevailing market rates. The contract clause contained “ BFSL shall bare no fiscal losses during the term of the JV”. This started the Myanmar container trade. BFSL provided the ships and joint staff in Yangon, while JSL maintaining their own JSL Agency Office to manage their other shipping businesses. JSL also had their own office in Singapore as managing office for the JV service.. We BFSL were very much ‘green’ regarding CFS and relied on JSL’s expertise. Learn we did, however cannot master the marketing and onward transshipments to other countries coupled with leased out carriers own containers (COC). No two ways about it. We were now no.1 container feeder service in Burma.
JSA was part of Jardine Shipping Services, a worldwide Jardine Matheson Group, with head office in Hong Kong. It was founded as a shipping and trading company in China in 1832. Jardine Shipping Services offered a comprehensive range of port agencies, liner agencies and a range of other shipping-related services catering to mining, oil, gas, container and specialty carriers. As one of the largest port agency operators in the Asia-Pacific region. JSA was chosen, they were financially sound with tons of shipping knowledge, expertise, networks around the world plus being well respected. JSA accommodated BFSL as they sense a good financial investment. Those days, BFSL competed with other foreign based container feeder services..
After Colonel, Captain U San Wai (Burma Navy) was promoted to Deputy Minister (there were two of them) in our Ministry of Transport, another Colonel, Captain (Burma Navy) U Khin Maung Htoo took over the helm as Managing Director (MD) of BFSL. He, being a naval man, was new to commercial (conventional and CFS ) shipping , and again, we commenced from step one once more.
During Colonel, Captain (Burma Navy) MD U Khin Maung Htoo’s reign, in continuance to previous planning policy, I was awarded to be Regional Representative of BFSL in Singapore. The period was from September, 2009 till June, 2012. I took over from U Aung Nyein. This allowed my son to seek further education, firstly Singapore Polytechnic College, then at University of Singapore. My trials, circumstances, endeavours , challenges and performances will not be addressed, as some affairs were of state level coupled with business ethics, even though they occurred many moons ago. I managed both services, Conventional, agented by BSA Transportation Limited, stewarded by Mr. Francis Koh in Oden Towers and Container Feeder Service, manned by Jardine Shipping Line Mr. C.H. Siaw in South Point Towers. Both services were completely different and ships deployed too were of different characters and requirements. My daily mornings till lunch were spent at the conventional service and afternoons till evening were at container feeder service. The JV service ran from 1993 to 2003 under BFSL logo.
Part C
Tenure in Singapore, meant striking a good working relationship with the Burmese Embassy
is of importance. Even though we BFSL was a commercial organisation, for all intent and
purposes we were still a government entity, as such, fall under the umbrella of the Burmese
Embassy, after all, they have plenty potential authority on all things Burmese in
Singapore. My predecessor relationship with them were, shall we say somewhat ‘limited’.
The first Ambassador I encountered on my posting there did put on an air that he was high
and mighty, no wonder the previous manager gave a wide berth. I did gave him due respect,
but only cordial. The second secretary then was Daw Mara Ja Taung, wife of my DGM and
they have a daughter, thus the relationship was good and sound. The next Ambassador was
H.E. U Myo Myint. We had a wonderful relationship together, including with his whole family.
He was a good nature jovial down to earth person. I was impressed that he typed his own
reports on his laptop. The nature of my work at times were related to government related
matters and his support was of critical importance. U Myint Soe was the first secretary and
we got on fine. The second secretary was a lady by the name of Daw Ei Ei Khin Aye. She
handled matters relating to passports, the relations were first class. She has a daughter and
her husband was the first secretary at Burmese Embassy, Kuala Lumpur. During a trade
delegation from Burma, he was extremely helpful. Trade delegations were his baby, where
was BFSL MD was mine. We toured Kuala Lumpur, Penang etc. together. The third secretary
was U Aung Saw Min, a bachelor, residing within the embassy. We got together quite a bit.
The other embassy staff were helpful too. Due tying my monthly reports in Burmese was my
weakness, they punched it out on P.C., thence fully printed on our letterhead was a godsend.
Thus, my association with them was at least once a month. All told, all were good.
Burmese (Myanmar) Embassy, Singapore
Part D
I was recalled by then, Managing Director U Khin Maung Kyi (Colonel-retd:) and promoted to the position of Deputy General Manager (DGM) for the Operations Department in March 1999 which required a different skill set of managing all the commercial lines, i.e. Europe Line (EL.), Far East Line (FEL), Other Lines (OL), Coastal Service (CS) and Agency, catering to owned ships requirements. The post was welcomed and challenging. The work involved 70% management issues on Operational matters, that was out of my hands at times due to governmental policies ... Even though I mellowed in the post for nearly 8 years, it was more ‘policy’ related. The era then was a socialist system and the under the stewardship of our MD, who steered our Burma Five Star Line (BFSL) to the drum beat of the country’s policies of the day. I was not a member of the Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP), and thus, did not see eye to eye on a variety of its execution and implementation of policy including our Operations Department’s personnel promotions and transfers. In my heart of heart, I believed that our MD also had his hand tied on some government policy issues. I did voice out and wrote note sheets galore where my stance differs. As I was educated in the West, it was no wonder I mostly disagreed to the paths our BFSL was on. At least my views were recorded in a losing battle, but I did endure and faced the music. There were bright moments here and there, but It was not all milk and honey to be sure.
U Khin Maung Kyi was an ex-Army Colonel. Short, somewhat of a Napoleon figure, quite young, late fortyish/early fifties. A fighter by trade with credentials galore. His previous post was in the war room with the late Brigadier Tin Oo (Army), better known as Secretary 2 of SPDC (State Peace and Development Council). A hard worker, and a very religious man. He was the last MD I served under, and truly a different kettle of fish. His empathy towards ALL staff was unmeasurable, neither wanted to be pampered too. He performed his job well and takes great pride in his work. He was always on the lookout for ways and means to modernize our shipping line. U Khin Maung Kyi modernized our communication systems, introduced a personal computer in each department and deployed the internet as a tool. He tried to cut paper communications within the organization. He embraced IT on ships. Believe no government matched his staff welfare arrangements. However, U Khin Maung Kyi was NOT appreciated by the Minister. I sincerely believe it stemmed from their army days. No matter, he was ‘resigned’ from his post without a pension. Our whole BFSL mourned and staff literally cried on his stewardship. Till date, no MDs came close to his empathy.
The purge began………
Unexpectedly, BFSL sad history took shape. Not only did our MD was forced to resign, after nearly 8 years of service as DGM, I was transferred to the Institute of Marine Technology (IMT) in February of 2006. The Marine Superintendent-Captain Kun Zaw passed away from cancer saved him, otherwise bound to be retired or transferred too, U Than Swe Win, Manager of Thaketa Container Yard (CY) was also transferred to Myanmar Maritime University (MMU), followed by Captain Win Zaw, then the Marine Superintendent also to MMU. U Ye Yint, manager of container feeder service was also forced to resign. This was supposedly not a ‘purge’, but rather a tactical movement by the then Minister of Transport. Whatever, we had no recourse to the Minister’s directives, thus, we all went on our ways and another chapter came to a close. Reasons??? God only know! Maybe, we all did not danced to his tunes.
Part E
My tenure at IMT was a slow one. We have a Burmese saying, ‘if unsatisfied, pack them to school’, maybe it came true for me. As of Head of Department, Workshop Technology (no such department at IMT) designated by the ministry, firstly, I was attached to Head of Teaching and Training (ex. Chief Engineer BFSL), thence, I was provided an office, table, telephone and three chairs. Presumed it was my rite of passage, initiation period of a few very, very hot months. About noon each day, I would lock my office door, strip to my under pants, opened all windows and swestted it out, until closing of office hours. No work, no guests, no look-ins, no nothing. What to do? Such was life.
One fine day, the Principal U Win Thein (Burma Naval Officer-retired) informed me in his cool air conditioned office that I was to teach Maritime English to 1st and 2nd Year Cadets. Thus, so carried out in conjunction with English Department two lady lecturers, one Computer lady lecturer. It went well (not that I knew a lot of the English language). It was well appreciated by the cadets and other English language lecturers too. In addition, thence, I was to assist the Teaching and Training Head of Department, U Naing Tun (Deceased) in preparation of ‘teachers handbook’ for all department in conjunction with all Minor subject lecturers. For me, it was all management techniques and knowledge acquired during my London school days. Later on, I prepared papers for the Principal and draft his abroad correspondences. A piece of pie.
Appreciation of my performance from the Principal came in the form of an air conditioner, generator sourced electricity when the main was down, full set settee, allowances for teaching and office equipment etc. Even though I was not trained to this current tasks, I managed it with a grain of salt. Support from the lecturers and office staff were truly inspirated and appreciated. One sad day, out of the blue, my Principal returned from the Ministry and informed me that I was to be retired, so my governmental servant vocation came to a close. This love affair of mine to make good SOME of my knowledge to the Cadets by way of a part-time lecturer, continued, however short lived as I moved on to the private ship agency sector and enjoyed salary in dollars. I must convey my gratitude to the Minister of Transport, for making it possible to buy a car that I loved and wanted from my dollar salary, otherwise would had been impossible.
The life of a government servant was/is a difficult one. It does not mean always doing the right thing would/will be appreciated or sufficed . Neither always doing the wrong thing would mean penalisation either. Academically sound and knowledge does not mean a promotion either. It required a fine balance which I clearly lacked. Would I do it all again? Affirmative, yes I would, BUT with much F I N E S S E.
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In Buddhism, it is stated that NOTHIG is PERMANENT. No qualms about that.
Thank you.
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