“Myanmar people are very resilient,” Meredith Bunn says at the start of the conversation.“They have the older generation who lived through so much already. And very luckily, in a way, those people have explained to them, ‘Well, this is what we used to have to do. Let's do this again.’”

As much as Meredith has witnessed countless examples of the Burmese people’s courage, she still encounters scenes evoking a horror that is hard to describe. From children so hungry they are literally eating dirt, to young girls mysteriously disappearing, to the military deliberating sending COVID-infected patients into high population areas to intentionally spread the pandemic, to depriving oxygen for infected patients literally suffocating with the illness. It doesn’t end.

As someone so deeply connected to a country and a people enduring this suffering, she is clear on who she holds responsible. “I don't hate the Tatmadaw. I don't hate everyone in it. I hate Min Aung Hlaing…I hate the puppets that he has inside.” And while she understands that not every soldier is courageous enough to defect or refuse commands, many are engaging in acts of deliberate cruelty for which there is simply no excuse.

While Meredith appreciates any foreigner who has decided to stand with the Burmese people, she has also found herself uncomfortable when those living in safety have arrogantly opined on what Burmese activists should or should not be doing to respond to the carnage there, made even worse if they have not researched the situation and show little interest in listening empathetically to better understand the context. She is equally concerned by what she characterizes as “voyeurism,” beyond just opinionated judgments.

With all this, Meredith certainly has her hands full, but her mind and her heart are clear, and the Burmese people are fortunate to have such a person on their side.