After two weeks at Riverside, I thought it was time that I began to move about. Edward of Education lent me his boat and found a boatman and an escort. The latter was that soldier-teacher who had played a large part at the New Year ceremonies. Introducing him, Edward said, ‘You can call this funny man True Love’, and of course I thought that he was joking.

True Love was a Delta Karen. At thirty-two he was very handsome, verging on the prettyboy. Slim but muscular, with graceful and well-groomed features, he could not have looked less like an unsophisticated tribesman – though when public occasion demanded, he tried, in Karen red-striped shirt and sarong. The result, quite devoid of wear and tear, was unconvincing. There was also a quiet confidence in his movements that suggested refinement, not the timidity of a ‘people capable of being afraid’. He gave an impression of discreet competence – though I soon realised that the sometimes coweringly shy village people were far more adept at negotiating the forest than True Love. He had a polite ease in his manner with strangers and superiors; it suggested his agreement with the destiny that had placed him where he was on the Karen ladder – a sergeant-clerk in the KNLA, and occasional secondary school teacher. I was later to see the depth of his frustrations, but he accommodated them so well as to be, in terms of revolutionary thrust, emasculated. Well equipped to be a Karen yuppie, he was, rather, a model non-commissioned officer. He was also Edward's protégé.