Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

SAVING FISH FROM DROWNING
Ellen Brookhyser Feingold Fong. Harry was sipping a cup of English
Breakfast tea.
Thank God, the consular officers had come that morning to take
him and the others to the U.S. Embassy. It could have been the
Myanmar military. And in fact, the SLORC soldiers had appeared at
his hotel a half-hour after Harry had been whisked away.
“Why didn’t you people show up ages ago, when my friends were
first reported missing?” Harry griped.
A consular officer named Ralph Anzenberger answered in a droll
voice. “Well, you see, Mr. Bailley, we were sitting on our duffs, wait­
ing for the Burmese government to give us permission to leave Ran­
goon and do a search. We were still waiting, actually, when you
finally materialized in Rangoon to do another public relations show
for the military regime.”
Harry squawked. He was not doing any such thing! He had taken
the only route he knew to keep attention focused on his friends.
“It did that,” Anzenberger agreed, “but the junta has also bene­
fited by turning your reality show into propaganda to boost tourism.
And by the way, there were no witnesses who saw your friends in Pa­
gan, Mandalay, and Rangoon. You knew that, didn’t you?”
Harry’s face flushed at the obvious truth that had only recently
dawned on him. “Of course,” he maintained. “What kind of fool do
you take me for? I was playing along.” Saskia cocked an eye and gave
him the same doubting look she used years before, when he denied
flirting with others.
Anzenberger looked at a file. “How did you know to give the tape
to the GNN reporter, Belinda Merkin?”
“Her? Ha. She’s not really a reporter.” Harry was glad he knew
something Anzenberger didn’t. “She’s a kindergarten teacher I ran
into at the hotel pool in Mandalay. I borrowed her camcorder, and
we watched the tape together, that’s all. But I didn’t give it to her. It’s
right here. See?” And he pulled the tape out of his pocket.
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