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A sad exile in the village of the longnecks

Susan McKay

Mulew Laplah in traditional dress and rings

Cookery class run by Trócaire partner TBBC

Recently arrived family at Baan Mai Nai Soi

Building shelters

Tin Zar sells souvenirs

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Mulew sits on the porch of her bamboo house in the crowded refugee camp, elegant and poised in her tall brass collar, a woman from another world. She is one of the last of the Kayan 'longnecks', women from parts of the Karenni district in Burma, now largely living in exile in camps like this one in northern Thailand. The porch is decorated by pictures from magazines – Britney Spears, Queen Elizabeth, a shoe with killer heels.

Mulew can't go home again to her village. Since the Burmese military seized control in 1962, thousands of people have fled the brutal military regime. There have been mass killings and rapes, and people, including children, have been forced into slavery. Soldiers have seized homes and belongings, extorted money and food, and planted swathes of landmines through farmland. Harsh prison sentences are imposed on dissidents. People are still leaving.

Under the generals, Burma, which counts gold and rubies among its rich natural resources, has become one of the poorest countries in Asia. Its largest export is opium and its people suffer from diseases that have long since been eradicated in the region. Although Aung San Suu Kyi's National League for Democracy won elections in 1990, the outcome was ignored, and few have any expectations of a fairer result in elections promised for next year.

Like many of the 20,000 or so refugees in the camp, Mulew's hopes of ever getting back home have dwindled away, and now she is placing them elsewhere. "We have applied to resettle," she tells us. The UN is currently enabling some of the refugees to move to countries as diverse as Australia, Norway and Ireland, while the US is operating its own programme. Not everyone will be able to leave, and those who stay will remain dependant on the support of the Thai Burma Border Consortium, which is part funded by Trócaire.

"We moved here last August from the longneck village outside the gates, because you have to be in the camp to apply for resettlement," Mulew says. The village is bizarre, a tourist attraction at the gates of the refugee camp. Coaches bring visitors who pay a fee to wander through stalls selling longneck souvenirs and postcards. The women and girls who run the stalls invite tourists to sit beside them to have their photo­graph taken. Some of the women have accused the Thai govern­ment of making it difficult for them to leave because they bring in revenue.

Wherever she ends up, Mulew has no intention of removing her neck bands, or those on her legs. "This is our tradition," she says. "I started to wear the rings when I was four years old. I followed my parents. There is a ceremony called Katobo. You get a new ring every three years or so – as soon as it is loose. It is a great skill to remove and replace it."

The collar is made out of coiled brass rods, and a full one weighs about 10kg. The weight pushes the shoulders down and the head is held high. The tradition goes back to the 11th century and is said to have been introduced to deter men from other tribes from making advances to the Kayan women, and to give the women status as descendants of the 'Lan Nan Htu Su (a bird like an angel) and the Kwa Kwe Bu Pe (the dragon lady)' of folklore.

Mulew's son, Khumi, is married to Muyah, who is also a longneck. The couple have a baby son, Davy. Muyah still lives in the village outside, but she has removed her collar and legbands. So have many of the other younger women. Muyah tells us that she will move into the camp soon, and is looking forward to resettlement. "I don't want to look different and have people staring at me all the time," she says. "I want to lead a normal life."