On the road to Namtu

Our vehicle rolled through Lashio’s crowded streets, past open shops and busy markets where traffic pulsed without pause. But the city’s calm was only skin-deep. Downtown buildings still bore the scars of years of fighting, their facades pockmarked with bullet holes. Relief set in as we crossed Ei Naing Bridge without incident, slipping past the watchful eyes of Myanmar military soldiers at a junta checkpoint on Lashio’s outskirts. On the far side of the bridge lay Kokang-controlled countryside. Every time I passed a checkpoint, hiding my mobile phone as soldiers checked my identity card was a moment of distress, reflecting life under military rule, without freedom. Bound for Namtu, a small town anchored by the historic Bawdwin mine, once among the world’s great producers of silver, lead and zinc, I had hired a local driver who knew the road ahead, a route punctuated by checkpoints run by multiple armed groups. Since a ceasefire agreement between the military regime and the Ta’ang National Liberation Army (TNLA) late last year, fighting and aerial assaults have largely subsided in northern Shan State. The town, seized during a large-scale anti-regime offensive in 2023, remains under the control of the TNLA to this day. My driver, Myint Thu*, in his late forties, rolled up the car windows as we entered Ei Naing village, controlled by the Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army (MNDAA). Thick dust billowed as heavy trucks crowded the narrow road, hauling mine tailings from Namtu. The Lashio–Namtu road, he explained, has been chewed up by more than a year of overloaded trucks ferrying rock and earth from the old mines. Many drivers now detour to go around the area, adding time to the journey as they edge along steep, winding roads to reach Namtu. We passed the wreckage of a truck that had already overturned. Its cargo spilled along the roadside. The route, Myint Thu said, is notorious for accidents, made worse by drivers bound for Mandalay’s Mongmit and Mogok who often take the road to skirt nearby fighting. Further along, a cluster of green tarpaulin shelters lined the road. They were housing residents from Ei Naing, he said, who have yet to return to their farms even after the fighting in Lashio Township subsided. As a Namtu resident running daily trips between Namtu and Lashio, he seemed familiar to everyone at the TNLA’s checkpoints along the route, greeting soldiers in the Ta’ang language. A woman walks past Namtu Bridge near the entrance to Namtu in northern Shan State, an area affected by months of fighting between armed groups. (Photo: Myanmar Now) As we continued on our way north, we were surrounded by rolling hills and valleys, a common sight in northern Shan State. Finally we arrived at Mong Yin, about 14 miles northeast of Namtu. We stopped there for 15 minutes for a tea break, known for its orange orchards and a nearby hot spring. I couldn’t resist exploring. Stepping out of the small teashop, I headed straight for the nearby market. Surprisingly, though modest in size, it stocked everything—from Chinese to Thai products—that were out of reach in big cities like Yangon due to the junta’s blockade of foreign goods. The village seemed to enjoy a healthy amount of business, with fine brick houses lining its dusty streets. Yet it had no phone lines, and most communication relied on Starlink satellite internet. Moving through the village meant passing two checkpoints—one at either end—marked by gates manned by different armed groups, the TNLAand the Shan State Army (SSA), underscoring their shared presence in the area. From Mong Yai, the road cut through several Shan villages before reaching Namtu’s municipal zone and a golf course reportedly used by senior TNLA officials. Across the road, a partially rebuilt structure drew attention. Construction had resumed only recently, locals told me, and while it was officially slated to become a car showroom and mini-mart, many feared it could eventually be converted into a casino. After passing a football stadium, we reached a small bridge spanning the Namtu River, where the driver pulled over to show the deteriorating situation of the river. Once crystal clear, he said, the water had turned murky and coffee-brown, polluted by suspected mineral extraction higher up the mountain. By the time we moved further into the bowl-shaped town nestled in the mountains, it was around noon, but the wind sweeping down from the surrounding mountains still brought a sharp chill. Dust hung heavy in the air, blanketing the streets and shrouding the town in a bleak, hazy veil. Despite lying far from isolation or remoteness, the town struck me with an unexpected emptiness, its streets unusually quiet under the noon haze. Red banners warning ‘Keep Out of Fire’ hung everywhere across the town, written in Ta’ang and Burmese languages while administration offices, schools, and some houses hoisted Ta’ang flags. At first glance, the town felt smaller and quieter than Lashio, stripped of the distractions of a larger city. Its one advantage was electricity. Communications were another matter: the only working SIM card belonged to Mytel, the military-backed telecom. Near the main market, where my driver dropped us at a guesthouse, small shops lined the street. Over lunch at a modest eatery run by a young Ta’ang man, we learned about a popular karaoke / KTV spot on the town’s edge, where a private room, he said, cost between 40,000 and 60,000 kyat, or about 10 and 15 US dollars. Although I didn't make it to the KTV, a karaoke lounge where groups rent rooms to sing, socialise, and consume drinks, I found myself talking with a young Ta’ang man in his 20s, at the town’s beer bar which served ice-cold Tiger beer brought in from Lashio. Vegetable vendors set up their stalls at dawn in Namtu, northern Shan State, as daily life cautiously resumes amid lingering insecurity. (Photo: Myanmar Now) The man, who requested anonymity, spoke about several issues including how locals carried on with their daily lives following the heavy fighting in their areas. In terms of administration, he said that weaknesses persist across all levels. “We are not clear about the exact timeline, but it is understood that the ceasefire could take years," he said. "So far, no compensation has been provided for damaged properties, and other towns have similarly received no assistance. In Namtu, at least one high school was damaged, but no major repairs have been carried out yet."Besides the law enforcement and judiciary systems run by Palaung State Liberation Front, the town also also faces significant shortcomings and remains underdeveloped, with many officers and officials lacking the qualifications needed to perform their duties effectively, local sources told me. He also pointed to rising prices, a problem for residents at grassroots level, mainly caused by the closure of border gates along Chinese-Myanmar border, as well as the lack of restoration work and support from the Ta’ang army for the residents of Namtu which had been affected by the war. And what was clear in our conversation was that the town had a long way to go before truly returning to normalcy. A town of dust Later that evening, I visited three villages along the 14-mile route to Man Sam village, about 30 miles west of Lashio by road. The villages along the route are now routinely used by Chinese-operated trucks hauling mine waste from Namtu. Their constant passage has chewed up the roads, turning travel into a slow, punishing ordeal and steadily disrupting daily life. Residents told me that movement in both directions has grown increasingly difficult, with the trip to Lashio now taking half a day as the road continues to deteriorate. Dust kicked up by the trucks hangs thick in the air, settling inside homes, shops and fields, coating trees along the roadside. What was once a one-hour journey has stretched into an all-day effort, and the dust has become a quiet threat to both health and the surrounding environment.In Pan Tha Pyay village, one mother said her family survives on income sent by her husband, who works in China. The village has no phone service; to get online, residents must walk about 15 minutes to the nearest signal. To avoid the dust on the way to Namtu, we took a long detour through the jungle, climbing steep hills along a road so narrow in places it was barely passable, overgrown and hemmed in by vegetation. The road was treacherous, and the biting cold chilled me to the bone, making the motorbike ride even more exhausting. By the time I arrived in Namtu, it was already 7pm, but some shops near the market were still open. I was lucky enough to find dinner to restore my energy for the long trip to Bawdwin the next morning. It was around 5am when we started out on the next leg of the trip. Still dark, lit only by the morning’s first break of bluish light over the horizon, slowly making its way through the town. The area was bustling. And vendors and customers gathered under the dim light of solar-powered bulbs. It was the busiest time of day, with vendors from nearby villages coming to sell fresh vegetables, meat, and other goods. Weaving through the crowd for the first time as a traveler, I was greeted by warm smiles, and for a moment, the biting cold that had clung to me seemed to fade away. Some vendors greeted me warmly, even inviting me to warm my hands over a small charcoal fire. They spoke openly about the situation, explaining that business was slow for many, with the prices of their farm fresh-goods low while other essentials remained expensive.The community warmth was a welcome presence, but it did little to my lingering sense of nerves about the final push towards Bawdwin.The Bawdwin mine Bawdwin Mine, Myanmar’s largest silver production site, lies about 14 miles west of Namtu, at the end of a twisting mountain road. With mining operations halted in 2023, the road has been left to the mercy of nature. In some places, the mountainside clinging to the road is on the verge of collapsing. Water seeping down has turned sections into shallow, muddy streams. Potholes and eroded patches make the journey slow and treacherous. Mining equipment sits idle at the shuttered Bawdwin Mine near Namtu in northern Shan State, where operations have been halted amid ongoing conflict. (Photo: Myanmar Now) I felt a bit weary along the road, as access to the mine was strictly controlled, guarded by two ethnic armed groups: the TNLA and the Kachin Independent Army (KIA). To enter the mine, visitors must pass through three checkpoints, staffed by both KIA and TNLA forces. Outsiders are strictly denied access. However, thanks to my driver, a former mine officer, we were granted entry to the site. Win Myint Mo Industries Co., Ltd., the company licensed to operate the Namtu Mine, officially shut down in 2025 after its 15-year contract expired, though sources say operations continued until fighting reached the town. Even after mining stopped, staff remained on the payroll and the site was kept in working order. Although the site doesn't have electricity, small villages persist around the mine, home to more than 700 workers and their family members. Schools and home-run shops anchor daily life, and although the machinery has fallen silent, the community endures, miners maintaining quiet, pragmatic relations with the armed groups that now control the area.As we left the mine and made our way back toward Lashio, the quiet rhythm of the villages stayed with me. In Namtu, life continues on dust-choked roads with clear scars of conflict. It’s a town shaped not by its silver or its battles, but by the resilience of its people, a place where life endures despite years of war. *Some names have been changed to protect individuals from potential reprisals.

On the road to Namtu

A journey through Namtu and its surrounding villages shows how mining, war and ceasefire politics have redrawn daily life in northern Shan State

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