“These agencies say they are helping the country develop,” said Rieffel, an expert on Myanmar who has worked for USAID, the US Treasury Department and several international NGOs. “Well, one of the ways you do that is take under-utilized space and utilize it.”
There are few offices as ostentatious as that now occupied by the World Health Organization, located in a palatial mansion on one of Yangon's busiest thoroughfares, and surrounded by an imposing 8-foot-high concrete wall and cast iron gates.
When asked about allegations it belonged to the family of the country's current commander in chief, WHO's acting country representative Krongthong Thimasarn said “the building is owned neither by General Min Aung Hlaing nor his daughter, but by a landlady whose name is Daw Khin Nwe Mar Tun.”
Efforts by The Associated Press and local media organizations to track her down were unsuccessful. Former and current generals and cronies put their assets under the names of relatives to avoid scrutiny.
Thimasarn said the rent came to nearly $1 million a year. That's enough to immunize 30,000 children against diseases such as measles, polio and hepatitis B.
The European Union, which has one of the biggest aid programs in Myanmar at more than $1 billion, described the property debate as one of the “struggles of transition.”
It occupies 2 ½ floors in the Hledan Center, a building owned by Asia World, the country's largest conglomerate. It is headed by Stephen Law, who took over the reins from his father, the late Lo Hsing Han, a former drug king pin. Law remains on the U.S. Treasury's blacklist.
The EU did not disclose its rental, but an official with the property management company put it at round $1 million a year.
The story behind the Hledan Center mirrors that of land grabs nationwide.
Just over a decade ago, it was a 1 ½ acre plot of land that was home to 68 families, many of whom had lived there for generations, and dozens of barbershops, tailors, teashops, noodle stalls and other small businesses.
When kicked out in 2003, residents received assurances they would be compensated.
While many have been given small, windowless rooms on two floors of the circular eight-story building, they say it's no substitute for what they lost.
“We never wanted to leave,” said 54-year-old Cho Cho Mar, who longs for her old two-story, four room house and her once-thriving hot pot business. “But what could we do? We couldn't complain under the powerful military regime.” The EU says it will eventually move into a Yangon heritage building.
