The people of Burma have spent 40 years living under a military junta. Now they are asking for our help, writes Rosita Boland

Burma: a beautiful, arcane country where monks are venerated, temples are made of solid gold, teak forests abound, jade and ruby are mined, the Irrawaddy river runs like an artery and the independent visitor is repaid a thousandfold for time spent there. Burma leaves an impression like no other country. I will never forget the month I spent there earlier this year, among its brave and resilient people.

The Burmese have lived under the rule of a military junta since 1962. Although Aung San Suu Kyi's party, the National League for Democracy, won the 1990 free elections, the word "free" turned out to be farcical. The National League for Democracy was not allowed to take power, and all attempts at resistance by the people since then have been brutally crushed.

Ten exiled leaders of ethnic nationalities from Burma have just been to Ireland. Their visit was an initiative of the Department of Foreign Affairs, Ireland Aid, Trócaire and Burma Action Ireland. The purpose of their 12-day visit was to attend courses and workshops north and south of the Border on topics related to peaceful resolution of conflict.

At the end of their time here, the delegation met representatives of the Department of Foreign Affairs, the outgoing Lord Mayor of Dublin, Dermot Lacey, and the human-rights subcommittee of the Oireachtas Joint Committee on Foreign Affairs. But their visit was also to highlight their predicament.

"We want to try and bring the attention of the Irish Government to Burma," says Aung Moe Zaw of the National Council of the Union of Burma, a de facto parliament. "We're hoping that Ireland can raise awareness of Burma in Brussels among the European Union countries and that Europe can focus attention on economic sanctions. Burma needs pressure from the international communities."

Moe Zaw, who now lives in Thailand, left Burma in 1990. Like the other members of the delegation, he was active in democratic politics. After the elections, many people who had worked on behalf of Aung San Suu Kyi were blacklisted by the junta and had to flee the country. He escaped into Thailand on foot, hiking cross-country for 10 days.

Four members of the 10-strong delegation are sitting at a table in the Shelbourne Hotel, in Dublin, telling their stories of repression and exile. It's a surreal contrast, but everything about the past 40 years of military rule in Burma has been a surreal contrast: the needless suffering of its people and the absolute control of its junta.

Salai Sui Khar of the Chin National Front comes from Hakha, a village near the Burmese-Indian border. In 1988, he was a leader in the democracy movement. When he got wind that he was wanted, he escaped to India on foot, travelling through dense jungle with local guides. "The military could not follow us in there, because we knew the jungle better than them," he says grimly.

Nang Hseng Noug of the Women's League of Burma is from Hsipaw, in Shan State. She has been out of Burma the longest; when she married, 20 years ago, she left for Thailand. Before that she had joined the armed movement in Shan State. She works for refugees held at the Burmese-Thai border, in no-man's-land. Some have been there for two decades.

Little is reported about these camps, but it is widely accepted that people held there are prisoners, used for forced labour and even as human minesweepers on the uneasy territory of the Thai- Burmese border.

Lian Sakhong is head of the United Nationalities League for Democracy - Liberated Area. He fled in 1990, after being arrested three times. He now lives in Chiangmai, in northern Thailand. "We have no political space inside Burma," he says, "but in exile we do."

It's difficult interviewing political exiles, as much of what they say has to be off the record, to protect both themselves and other sources. The most terrible stories the delegation related can't be reported, because they can be traced back to people still living in Burma, which would make them vulnerable to abuse or death.

The delegation hopes that if the day comes when Burma achieves its freedom, the regime will be forced to the negotiating table, and the ethnic leaders in exile will be able to step in. Until then, they have no hope of setting foot legally in Burma: all of their names are on a permanent government blacklist. Meanwhile, they have to keep doing whatever they can to draw the world's attention to their country.

"International pressure does matter," says Sakhong. "The military junta do take notice of what is being said in the international press."

What do they most miss about their country? There is a collective intake of breath. Sakhong says, simply: "Everything. Freedom."

"I want to see my mother," Moe Zaw says in a small voice. When he fled there was no time for him to say goodbye.

"The teak forests," says Hseng Noung.

Then there is a silence. Talking politics they are so articulate, but their silence on this question says even more about their enforced exile from their homeland.

You can contact Burma Action Ireland at 01-4950171 or ba-i@yahoo.com Its website is www.freespeech.org/bai