Back Street Boys

Three fun-loving brothers who light up Burma’s gloom

Down a rutted dirt lane in south Mandalay, past oily repair shops and street-table restaurants with dangling light bulbs or flickering candles, you’ll find a world-class comedy and dance troupe—the Moustache Brothers. They’re a troupe of comedians, dancers and impressionists, well-known for their ribald comedy, satirical skits and the preservation of traditional dance. The troupe’s continuing saga, in a land of military rule and brutal suppression, is a tale of tragedy and courage, which has been unfolding since the early 1990s.

The troupe’s three rubber-faced comedians—Par Par Lay, Lu Zaw and Lu Maw—and their band of family members and friends have been performing for decades in the Anyein folk tradition. Anyein is a form of traditional entertainment incorporating music and dance, opera and satirical comedy. It’s a popular part of Burmese cultural life, but for the past 10 years the troupe has been banned from performing in public—for five of those years Par Par Lay and Lu Zaw sat in prison for offending the regime with their humor.

Blacklisted as entertainers, muzzled and prevented from touring the countryside, the troupe’s plight isn’t that far removed from the fate of opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi, who has been under house arrest for 10 of the past 17 years in Rangoon. Their situation shows that politicians and comedians alike can share the same fate in this land where words are deemed to be as powerful as weapons, and as feared.

At least the Mandalay brothers can receive visitors at their home, which has become their theater, open to a steady stream of foreign well-wishers. The troupe performs nightly o­n a makeshift stage in the living room to an audience of around half a dozen foreigners, drawn there by reports in the press or tourist guide books and word of mouth.

Lu Maw, the English-speaking front man who peppers his speech with catch phrases like “You get my drift?” or “I shoot from the hip,” maintains that the authorities don’t care if they perform before foreigners because the regime has o­nly disdain for the West, but is still shy of causing negative publicity by cracking down o­n the troupe’s activities.

Par Par Lay, 59, the “star” of the troupe, was o­nce a popular movie actor, and o­n stage he still exudes a wry, debonair air, evoking the spirit of a Maurice Chevalier or Cantinflas—a mysterious quality shared by all great comedians. He’s a man of great charm. So how did he come to upset the regime so seriously?

In 1996 Par Par Lay and Lu Zaw performed at Suu Kyi’s Rangoon home at a party celebrating the 48th anniversary of Burma’s independence from Britain. Their show, before thousands of party guests, included anti-regime sketches. In o­ne of them, an activist is shot by a general, but the man refuses to die. The joke hinges o­n the similarity in the Burmese words for “hit” and “right.”

“You’ve been hit, die,” orders the general (played by Lu Zaw). Par Par Lay responds: “Why should I die if I am right?”

The biggest laugh in the show came when Par Par Lay pantomimed the hand movements used in various ethnic dances. “Now, here’s how a government official looks,” he announced, his body taking o­n the appearance of a man in fear of being seen, surreptitiously slinking around picking pockets, taking bribes and stuffing away money.

The audience loved it, and a video made of the show shows Suu Kyi laughing heartily at the jokes. “After that we were dead meat. Tit for tat,” says Lu Maw.

A few days after the performance, a military intelligence unit raided their home and arrested Par Par Lay and Lu Zaw. “Just like the KGB [Soviet state security police],” Lu Maw said of the raid.They were tried in secret and sentenced to seven years imprisonment.

Even in prison, Par Par Lay remained the comedian, entertaining fellow prisoners with his humor. He saw prisoners die regularly from overwork, starvation, malaria or lack of medical treatment. In messages smuggled out of prison he said defiantly: “I’ll never give up.”

In July 2001 the two brothers were released, with the warning of stiffer sentences if they again fell foul of the authorities. “I told them: You cannot close my mouth, ears and eyes,” says Par Par Lay. “If you want to do that, it is better you don’t release me.”

Lu Maw and the troupe had kept their side up by performing at the brothers’ home, and they warmly embraced Par Par Lay and Lu Zaw back into the team.