The lady at customs in Burma

I flew out from Hong Kong airport early one morning, due for a change of planes at Bangkok. This proved to be a rather doubtful arrangement as, on arrival the PA system announced that there would be several hours delay before the intended departure for Rangoon. I decided to take a quick tour of Bangkok to fill in the time but as it happened the combination of a driver who only wanted to cart me through the local red light district and the terrible traffic conditions, saw me back at the airport for an announcement that I could be departing in little over an hour.

A short flight later saw me alighting at Rangoon and looking around for my contact, but I finished up with the rest of the passengers in the lines at the customs counters, awaiting my turn to be processed. Not without a certain degree of apprehension as I was carrying a couple of the then new solar powered calculators as well as other articles which, even as intended gifts, I knew would be impounded as illegal imports. It soon became obvious that all I had been warned of was indeed correct, namely that a full inventory of all articles in my possession including money, had to be entered on a sheet of paper that had been issued to all passengers during the flight, and so it was that I found myself standing in line with a partly filled out form, wondering what had happened to the assurance that I would never have to pass through the customs!

All this was made much worse as everyone was listening to a loud argument that was going on at the counter between a lady American tourist and a customs clerk – the lady steadfastly refusing to categorise or value the rings on her fingers and other bright possessions!

At this moment I felt a tug at my arm and immediately recognised the casual garb of a fellow Australian – but we were both on the wrong side of the customs counter! It wasn’t until he pulled me out of the line and hustled me to a side door held open by a uniformed guard that I started to breathe easily once more. We emerged behind the customs counters and headed for the chief customs officer at his desk, my papers were passed over and my partly filled sheet obligingly tallied and stamped and signed in seconds.

While this was taking place I looked over to where the argument was still raging. The customs clerk was at this moment fingering a gold locket and chain around the lady’s neck, and she was threatening to call in the US of America! I asked my escort what was going to happen and how the incident would end, and he casually replied that it was now approaching the stage where she would be removed by the armed guards and escorted back to a seat on the plane to await the return trip! In the meantime he had collected my illegal luggage without inspection or query and said ’Let’s get out of here’.

I often wondered how the lady tourist managed, even had she passed customs. I was told that the word would go out, all her movements would be watched and recorded for her seven day stay and, on departure, she would be given the full treatment over again. If it could be proved that she had illegally disposed of any of her possessions during her stay, she may well be imprisoned by the Burmese authorities till the matter was sorted out!

At this point I should point out that the maximum allowable visa available for a Burmese visit covered only seven days. Absolutely no goods could be carried into the country – watches radios, electrical equipment, newspapers, not even paperback novels apart from two that could be carried for personal reading and had to be checked out on departure, but in most cases finishes up in the hands of customs clerks, as did other petty articles. Burma at that time was a police state that maintained a strict exclusion of anything that could give the Burmese people an idea of what the outside world was like, and there were heavy penalties to ensure that the rules were carried out. However it was common knowledge that the ruling classes were not bound by these impositions! As I found out later, a visa to enter and live in Burma would be quickly available should the word go out that your stay could benefit some higher-ups! With all this in mind I dutifully filled in the sheet that I had been provided with, recording every purchase or cash outlay, and getting an initialled receipt stamp in the space provided. My Aussie mate said ’For God’s sake don’t lose it, you will have to present it to customs on the way out, and the cash will have to tally exactly with what you came in with’.

It followed naturally that any Burmese currency that you happened to acquire was treated with disdain by local money changers, who to a man refused to change it back to an outside currency. Even your hotel which was supposed to render this service were loath to do so, and when I checked out I found myself in an argument with the cashier over this matter, and finished up using almost all of it up buying small souvenirs in the hotel lobby (probably owned and run by the cashier!). It didn’t worry customs if you took out a wallet full of useless Burmese currency!