On the inside of many of these relics; amidst cobwebbed wires, stained marble tiles and rickety stairwells are the makeshift homes of Yangon’s residents. Many have lived or owned a business since the buildings were first brought to life from the architect’s sketchpads. Others settled in much later, squatting in the shadows of the dilapidated structures.

Shaped like open bird cages, the homes are intimate and small, stacked high with furniture and other cluttered belongings like photo frames, calendars and various medicine cabinets. Across the caged exterior, many have strung colourful lungis, the traditional male sarongs, for privacy. After wandering through many of the buildings, I couldn’t help but question what role these people played in a roadmap to democracy in Yangon. In a country that had been denied change for so long, would this rapid shift to modernisation move the people in these colonial relics in the right direction?

On a balmy final evening caught in traffic, I discussed this idea with a friend working as an expat in Yangon. She had devoted her time working on development projects and yet, we agreed it would be difficult to watch a once untouched country expose itself to the greed of the world. Ultimately, I couldn’t help but question this construct of ‘development’ for a unique case like Myanmar. A country unlike any other in the world. Was development the vast urban renewal projects relocating residents from these colonial structures? Was development some investment or under-the-table exchange, to provide Coca-Cola carts and free beverages to children walking home from school? Caught in two minds on where I stood in a complicated argument, I turned towards the one thing that had very much stayed the same between my first and last visit; Myanmar’s people.

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