Hours before her expected arrival at the Migrant Workers Rights Network (MWRN) office in Mahachai, Thailand, southwest of Bangkok, hundreds of people began to assemble around the building, hoping to secure a good spot to greet or at least catch a glimpse of “the Lady.” Inside the room where the much-anticipated meeting would be held, a nervous mother instructed her young daughter on how to properly welcome the honored guest and deliver a symbolic bundle of white lilies.

Aung San Suu Kyi meets with migrant workers, journalists, event organizers, and local politicians at the Migrant Workers Rights Network (MWRN) office in Mahachai, Thailand. Photo: Perla E. Parra De Anda

Daw Aung San Suu Kyi’s recent visit to Thailand marked her first international trip after spending 15 of the last 24 years under house arrest in Burma (also known as Myanmar). With over four million registered and undocumented immigrants currently living in Thailand – of whom approximately 85 percent come from Burma – her visit was both momentous and symbolic. The migrant workers felt “loved and respected” by her presence in Mahachai: “It feels like someone is finally paying attention to us,” said Nai Khek, 35, a Mon migrant worker from Burma who came to Thailand six years ago and currently works in a shrimp processing factory. “My wife cried when she heard Daw Suu Kyi was coming,” he added.

A combination of anxiety and excitement swept the room as the vehicle transporting Daw Suu Kyi approached the MWRN building. Five Buddhist monks draped in burgundy robes stood with fixed expressions; strategically aligned inside the room to be the first to welcome her. “No security is needed on this side of the entrance,” an organizer of the event said. “Burmese people have high reverence for monks; they will not try to enter the building through this side as long as the monks are standing here.” Drenched in sweat, pre-selected reporters representing five networks ran up and down the stairs to secure the best locations to capture the historic entrance while organizers frantically scrambled to finalize last-minute details. “We forgot to buy bottles of cold drinking water for her!” a woman cried out.

Daw Suu Kyi waved from her car as she approached the MWRN library. She emerged – picturesque like so many of the posters that bear her image – dressed in a red traditional Burmese skirt, a soft, flower-patterned blouse, with a light white scarf and a matching strand of delicate flowers adorning her hair. Despite the pushes and shoves hindering her steps, she smiled and waved, calmly forging a path toward the entrance. The masses continued to push indiscriminately, producing strong waves that pressed against everyone already inside – Buddhist monks, police officials, staff members and children alike felt the pulse and energy of the growing crowd attempting to enter. The metal curtains descended to secure the building as soon as she passed through, trapping some intruders on the first floor.

The pro-democracy icon and Nobel Laureate was escorted to the third floor where she addressed the chanting crowd from the balcony. Over 3,000 braved the heat and dust to cheer “Mother Suu;” many carried placards that read “We Want to Go Home.” Daw Suu Kyi asked for patience with many of the changes that were yet to come in Burma and warned them against “reckless optimism.” She also promised to listen to their woes and raise these issues with the appropriate authorities. Despite living in foreign soil, she assured them that they were “not forgotten.”

Only 50 people were allowed inside the private meeting room for the one-hour session; 30 migrant workers, the remaining 20 consisting of journalists, event organizers, and local politicians. Daw Suu Kyi listened attentively to the stories shared by the migrant workers, expressing deep concern – the hint of a frown on her face and eyes wide-open fixed on the subject. Nai Htun, a 28-year-old migrant worker from Sa-Gaing province in Burma, told her about his struggles to gain lawful compensation after a work-place accident took his right hand three years ago. Saa, another migrant worker and member of the MRWN, explained some of the challenges involved with completing the National Verification Process (NV) to work legally in Thailand. “The process is confusing and expensive,” she said, forcing migrants to use the services of brokers. Although in theory the procedure should cost no more than $20, migrants often pay up to $400 to complete the NV. Other stories followed – passport confiscation by employers, hindrance of mobility, and cases of labor trafficking – highlighting the human-rights violations migrant workers have reported in Thailand.

However, Burma has a multitude of domestic troubles; a great deal of work is required before the Burmese refugees can return home. (An estimated 130,000 Burmese refugees live in camps in Thailand.) During a speech Daw Suu Kyi delivered at the 101st Session of the International Labor Conference in Geneva on June 15, she warned that labor rights concerns similar to those encountered by migrant workers in Thailand should also be monitored in Burma. She also addressed the issue of peace and security for migrant workers in Thailand, calling for a human-rights-based framework to better manage all migration in ASEAN countries.

Another challenge for Burma consists of developing political and racial integrity – the two concepts closely aligned in the country. As Daw Suu Kyi prepared to make her exit from the MWRN library, a migrant worker from Burma’s northern Shan State – which represents a third of the land mass and is home to several ethnic minority armed armies – whispered to the side: “She has never worn a Shan skirt.” Given the country’s political and racial history, it was not surprising to find that her attire could be interpreted as a political statement. “She wears the traditional clothes of all the other minority groups – Karens, Mons, and Kachins – but she has never worn a Shan outfit.” A simple assertion that underscores the multiplicity of the challenges involved in the true unification of Burma. Late last month, Daw Suu Kyi used her first speech in parliament to call for laws protecting the rights of the country’s ethnic minorities.

Though long regarded as a popular icon of hope and longing, “Mother Suu” may not be able to fix all her country’s problems or those of her countrymen abroad. However, like her father, Daw Suu Kyi has managed to revive a space for dialogue to address contemporary challenges and issues that are centuries old. As she departed from her Mahachai meeting with the migrant workers, some were overcome with emotion, unable to hold back their tears, while others hastily jotted down the license plate number of the car that carried her away. “I’m going to play the numbers in the lottery,” one of them said. “I believe everything Daw Suu Kyi told us, but maybe my fortune will change sooner.”

Perla E. Parra De Anda was a 2011-2012 Luce Scholar at the Human Rights and Development Foundation in Chiang Mai, Thailand. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the individual author and not those of The Asia Foundation.

Nearing its 65th year of independence, India, the largest democracy and second-most populous country in the world, is undergoing another transformation: a second freedom struggle. Birthed from decades of frustration over rampant corruption, a large-scale movement led by activist Anna Hazare has energized the country’s youth, charging them with the desire to rebuild India. As a relatively young country, with an estimated 780 million Indians under 35 years old – or roughly 65 percent of the population – investment in the country’s young entrepreneurs will undoubtedly be a vital part of India’s future.

India’s broad development issues, the widening divide between urban and rural populations, lack of comprehensive public services, and freedom from strict regulations that exist in other globalized countries make an ideal testing ground for budding social entrepreneurs. Photo by Geoffrey Hiller.

Although India has become an increasingly important stakeholder in the global economy and its development over the next two decades will undoubtedly be looked to as a model for the rest of the world, it must first find ways to overcome the enormous challenges of infrastructure, healthcare, poverty, hunger, education, and corruption. It is clear that India will be relying on these 780 million young people to take the lead. As a Luce Scholar in Bangalore, I am working with Ashoka, a global organization that identifies and invests in leading social entrepreneurs, observing first-hand the opportunities and obstacles these young leaders face.

In December 2011, I traveled on the Jagriti Yatra, an annual 7,500 km chartered train ride that takes highly motivated young Indians, and a few international participants under 25 years old, on a 15-day national odyssey to meet with entrepreneurs who have developed innovative solutions to India’s challenges. The 450 participants and facilitators came from 26 states and territories across India, and six continents abroad; 63 percent were from non-urban areas and 37 percent were from urban areas. The yatra took each of us out of our familiar surroundings, stripped away our comfort zones of language, physical space, and geography, ushering us into a new realm of learning.

The Jagriti Yatra, an annual 7,500 km chartered train ride takes highly motivated young Indians, and a few international participants under 25 years old, on a 15-day national odyssey to meet with leading entrepreneurs.

Along the way, we heard the extraordinary experiences of successful social entrepreneurs like Bunker Roy of Barefoot College, who, upon moving to the small rural village of Tilonia in the 1970s, founded a solar-powered school that teaches people from impoverished villages the skills they need to become doctors, solar engineers, architects, and more. Mr. Roy urged us to find solutions to development challenges through the real-life accounts of people who are struggling the most, instead of relying on global reports or statements. For example, Anshu Gupta of Goonj, which repurposes clothing materials for India’s poorest, shared a heart-wrenching story of how it was only when he met a young child who lay beside dead bodies for warmth during a cold Delhi winter, that he was inspired to launch Goonj.

We also heard from doctors at Aravind Eye Care, one of the world’s most efficient and successful eye care centers. The family members of Dr. Venkataswamy, who founded the center at the mandatory retirement age of 58, shared with us his ambitious “McDonaldization” approach to cataract surgery. During another discussion in Ahmadabad with Harish Hande, the founder of Selco, a solar electric light company supplying affordable, environmentally sustainable energy services in rural India, offered sobering advice that many of us don’t take the time to really understand the issue or problem: “Live with the problem that you are trying to solve.”

While some of the yatris (yatra participants) already owned successful enterprises, most were simply intrigued by the idea of being part of the forthcoming generation of Indians to make an enormous impact on sustainable social business. Although many of the yatris were in the fields of science, technology, engineering, and mathematics, they expressed interest in crossing over into the social sector, stating that a major reason for selecting their field was because of parental pressure. It became clear along the yatra that while the interests of my fellow yatris covered a wide spectrum, they shared the common interest of wanting to carry their nation forward.

India’s broad development issues, the widening divide between urban and rural populations, lack of comprehensive public services, and freedom from strict regulations that exist in other globalized countries make an ideal testing ground for budding social entrepreneurs. However, while there is an abundance of promise in Indian social business, and a thriving technology environment (75 percent of Indians have access to mobile phones), significant barriers like low staff retention rates, lack of willingness to create partnerships with similarly focused organizations, scaling difficulties and a social space characterized by thousands of non-profits that unfortunately lack the resources to make a national impact, still exist. Consequently, as some of the yatra participants mentioned, many of India’s existing and budding enterprises are struggling to scale their impact.

Despite these challenges, such investments in India’s young people – like in the Jagriti Yatra – will provide better understanding of the tenacity, dedication, and passion needed to build and sustain the next generation of social entrepreneurs.

Zimuzor C. Ugochukwu is a 2011-2012 Luce Scholar at Ashoka in Bangalore. She can be reached at zim.ugochukwu@gmail.com. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the individual author and not those of The Asia Foundation.

Oprah Winfrey looked nervous. Making her way across the stage, she stopped to smile for the herd of photographers and then quickly sat down in her chair. Waiting for the applause to die down, she folded her hands in her lap.

This was Oprah’s first visit to India; the press has tracked her every move as she traveled across the country filming an episode for her new show, “The Next Chapter.” Among her stops: a visit to the Jaipur Literature Festival, held in the Northwestern State of Rajasthan. The festival features five days of readings, panel discussions, and musical performances. In just seven years, it has become the largest literary festival in the Asia-Pacific region, attracting more than 60,000 people annually.

Author Deepak Chopra speaks at the Jaipur Literature Festival. Attracting more than 60,000 people annually, the festival is the largest in the Asia-Pacific region. Photo by flickr user Havelgotastory4u.

I thought I could sense curiosity and discomfort pass across Oprah’s face as she waited for her discussion, “O: Oprah in Jaipur,” to begin. When I landed in India seven months ago to begin my year as a Luce Scholar and writer-in-residence at the Sanskriti Foundation, I, too, had mixed emotions. Although I had experience living abroad, that hadn’t prepared me for the chaos, for the throb of life in India. Oprah said of her first impressions of India, “It’s a bit chaotic, and then I realized there’s an underlying calm, or flow, that everybody else here gets the flow, and that as a foreigner, you have to get in and move with the flow.”

As a writer, I spend most days alone, hunched over a laptop, so the festival was a welcome break. The festival offered the chance to hear from renowned writers like Booker Prize-winners Michael Ondaatje and Ben Okri, and best-selling Indian writer Chetan Bhagat. And I won’t lie: I was looking forward to seeing Oprah.

While Oprah had previously remarked to the media that this was her “first and last trip to India,” she told the festival audience that that wasn’t the case: “You can’t. You have to come back again, and then you have to come back again.” Before coming to the literary festival I often worried that I had not yet written a short story specifically about India. Oprah’s assertion that once isn’t enough helped me re-frame this concern. I should have known this on my first day: I’ll have to keep returning to India, again and again, to find its pulse and its place in my writing.

Oprah was not, by any means, the most talked about person at the festival. That distinction fell to Salman Rushdie, of course, whose 1988 novel The Satanic Verses garnered a fatwa from Iranian leader Ayatollah Khomeini and remains banned in India today. Rushdie, who lives in New York, attended the festival in 2007 amidst some protests, but this year was forced to cancel his visit due to reports from police officials that his life was in danger.

Rushdie’s absence was mentioned at nearly every panel I attended. Four writers – Ruchir Joshi, Amitava Kumar, Hari Kunzru, and Jeet Thayil – read from the still-banned Satanic Verses in protest. Afterward, festival organizers encouraged the writers to leave the festival and Jaipur or risk arrest. Criminal complaints were filed against the writers the next day. The Rushdie frenzy subsided when festival organizers confirmed that Rushdie would be joining the festival via video conference at 3:45 p.m. on Tuesday. But when the time came, the owner of the festival venue climbed on stage and announced that Rushdie wouldn’t be seen. Authorities had indicated that protestors – who were said to be sitting among members of the audience – were threatening violence if the video conference went as planned. Festival organizer Sanjoy Roy told the audience that the organizers were “being made to step down in the fight for freedom of expression” and Rushdie’s forced cancellation was a disgrace for India. Before he could continue, he began crying and left the stage.

A few minutes of nervous silence settled in the audience after Roy’s departure. A group of festival panelists decided to host an impromptu debate on Rushdie’s exclusion. Once the debate began, it was easy to pick out the protestors from the festival-goers; the protestors stared grimly ahead and did not clap when a panelist called the cancellation of Rushdie’s visit a “win for bigotry” or lauded the writer. There weren’t a lot of answers, but there were lots of questions, and lots of talk of literature, religion, and free speech and what this means for the future of India. Everyone on stage and in the audience knew that the stakes are high and that the answer isn’t easy. The question of free speech and religious rights is one that India will have to keep returning to, again and again, long after the Jaipur Literature Festival has ended.

Mackenzie Smith is a 2011-2012 Luce Scholar and writer-in-residence at the Sanskriti Foundation in New Delhi, India. She can be reached at mackenzie.evan.smith@gmail.com. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the individual author and not those of The Asia Foundation.

Before leaving for Washington last month I spent a couple of days in Canterbury with a very special group of folks – the 2010-2011 Luce Scholars. I myself was a Luce Scholar back in the stone age (1984-1985), before the current class of Scholars was born, and I thoroughly enjoyed reconnecting with an important part of my early personal and professional development.

The Luce Scholars Program promotes and broadens an awareness of Asia among young future leaders. Launched by the Henry Luce Foundation in 1974, it targets Americans under the age of 29 across a variety of professional fields including medicine, science, public health, journalism, law, the arts, and policy studies. The participants are chosen through a rigorous multi-step process that emphasizes leadership potential and adaptability.

Above, David Huebner with Luce Scholars on a recent trip to New Zealand. Photo by Ted Alcorn.

One of the unique elements – and great strengths – of the Program is that it is targeted at young leaders who have had little or no experience of Asia, and who otherwise might not have an opportunity in the course of their careers to come to know Asia. Thus, it attracts a dynamic, eclectic group of people-in-progress rather than a homogenous group of already-Asia-focused careerists.

The other defining feature and great strength of the Program is that it is oriented around individualized, year-long professional placements in Asia, rather than academic study or general travel. Using its extraordinary network of relationships, The Asia Foundation finds a job for each Scholar based on the person’s individual career interests and experience.

Back in 1984, for example, I was placed in the office of the Hon. Koji Kakizawa, Member of the Lower House of the Japanese Diet and Parliamentary Vice Minister for the Environment, because of my interest in environmental law and policy. One of my Luce compatriots worked on a medical helicopter team that flew into the jungles of Borneo. Another worked for the Far Eastern Economic Review in Hong Kong.

The Class of 2010-2011′s placements were as diverse and exciting as ever. For example: implementing village-based solar power projects in Laos; producing Shakespeare at the Seoul Metropolitan Theater; working at an environmental NGO in Ha Noi; researching end-stage liver cancer in Ulaanbaatar; producing and hosting an English-language radio program in Jakarta; preserving Malay classics at the Asia Film Archive in Singapore; staffing an anti-trafficking-in-persons shelter in Chiang Khong; helping launch a social entrepreneur institute in Shanghai; working at the Legal Aid society in Phnom Penh; developing molecular diagnostics for viral encephalitis in Bangkok; evaluating primary school teaching techniques in Taiwan, just to name a few.

Each Luce year starts and ends with all of the current Scholars and the Program’s coordinators meeting together for a week of discussion and group activities. At the end of my year as a Scholar, we convened in Bali for several days of presentations, sightseeing, and goodbyes.

When my friend Helene, godmother of the Program, attended my swearing in at the White House in December 2009, I invited her to bring one of the future groups of Scholars to New Zealand for their wrap-up. She started the wheels turning, and her successor Ling made it happen this year.

The 18 Scholars and several Luce directors flew into Christchurch and proceeded to the Terrace Downs resort in the high country of Darfield. The Scholars spent three days presenting reports – many of them with videos and other creative visual aids – about their individual work and cultural experiences. Dr McWaine and I were able to join the group for one of the days.

I smiled to myself throughout that day’s presentations because the room was filled with the same excitement, sense of accomplishment, frustration, camaraderie, complaints, changed perspectives, and uncertainty about the future that I recalled when my own group met on the beach in Bali 26 years ago. In fact, the déjà vu was so strong that I found myself associating certain of my old cohorts with particular current Scholars as they spoke.

A Luce wrap-up, of course, is not all work. After a long morning of presentations we went for a vigorous hike into and through the Rakaia Gorge, spent time talking and comparing notes, and had a barbeque dinner in a sheep shed near the resort. At dinner I gave a speech about innovation in the diplomatic arts, with more undiplomatic examples and asides than I would normally employ. Thereafter ensued a rollicking Q&A discussion with my unruly fellow Lucers.

After three days in Canterbury, the Luce brigade traveled north by bus and ferried across the Cook Strait. In Wellington we arranged meetings for them with various policymakers and my student advisers. Unfortunately, I missed a dinner for the group hosted by Dr McWaine at our official Residence because I had to fly to Washington to prepare for Prime Minister Key’s visit.

The Scholars’ two days in Wellington marked the official end of their Luce year. As my group did more than two decades earlier, they scattered back into their separate lives with bittersweet memories, life-long friendships, changed perspectives, new strength and confidence, and a sense of excitement about what comes next. A few planned to remain in Asia for awhile, a few took time to explore New Zealand or Australia, and a few flew straight home.

The Luce Program was one of the turning points in my life. It was exactly what I needed in 1984  – a productive break from school, an opportunity to work in my chosen field without fully committing, and total immersion in something mind blowingly different. The year reoriented my thinking and priorities, including in ways that I didn’t recognize until many years later. If I hadn’t been selected for the Luce then, I would not be sitting in Wellington now.

That explains in part why I’m such a partisan of youth and education exchange programs – particularly the old-school, people-to-people types that truly give folks time to learn, experiment, and explore without economic expectations.

I’ll take a relationship over a transaction any day. And my Luce year helped teach me that very important lesson.