His name card reads "Min Thein Kha, Seer of Myanmar." Hundreds of Burmese arrive daily to seek advice at his sprawling Buddhist commune, an hour's drive from Rangoon. Min Thein Kha, a 67-year-old chain smoker, claims his powers can soothe quarrelsome households, lure back wayward husbands, and compel thieves to return stolen property. Best of all, he professes that he can alleviate poverty. "Most people come here with financial problems," he says. "These days those problems are very bad." How does he solve them? "I do some chanting and make miracle remedies."

Today, Min Thein Kha is unwell, and politely declines to predict his country's future. He doesn't need to. Burma's woes are obvious and it will require more than chanting to address them. While the junta has benefited from the economic support provided by its neighbors, it has done almost nothing for the welfare of Burma's roughly 50 million people. Per capita income is just $225, among the lowest in Asia, estimates the U.S. State Department. The future doesn't look any brighter. Though the junta claims that GDP in Burma's last fiscal year grew an astounding 12.6%—outpacing even China and India—economists consider such official statistics pure fiction. The Economist Intelligence Unit estimates that GDP shrank by 2.7% in 2004 and grew a mere 1.5% in 2005. The generals, though, live in luxury. Early in 2005, a police raid on the property of former Agriculture Minister Nyunt Tin, who was arrested on corruption charges, allegedly turned up a rich stash of gold, cash and jewelry.

A stroll across the Chinese border into northern Burma shows just how little the Burmese benefit from the trade between the two countries. While Gong's Ruili is a modern metropolis of wide streets, incessant construction and per capita income five times higher than the surrounding district, the Burmese town of Muse directly across the border is mostly a jumble of huts made of bamboo, thatch and tin sheets. City buses are so old that rain pours through the roofs. The main market, with stalls hawking almost entirely Chinese-made goods, is nearly empty. Packs of beggars hassle Chinese tour groups for spare coins. The only concrete houses are two-floor villas said to be owned by Chinese gem merchants. "The trade is not good for the Burmese people; it's good for the government," complains Aung Kyaw Zaw, a former antigovernment rebel living in China. "China sends so much to Burma, but the community gets poorer."

And more desperate. While the country was once so productive that it was known as the region's rice bowl, today one-third of Burmese children are chronically malnourished or physically stunted, according to World Food Programme chief James Morris, who toured the country last August. "The humanitarian issues are serious and getting worse," he warned the Burmese government. Unable to find work in their chosen fields, physics graduates drive taxis, and doctors hustle real estate. Prostitution is one of the few businesses that are obviously thriving. Downtown touts who pester Western tourists to change money or hire cars now offer additional services: "Massage? Lady?"

Many Burmese get into odd get-rich-quick schemes. Rangoon boasts an extensive network of underground lotteries, with one of the most popular based on the last two digits of Bangkok's main stock market index. A winning $1 bet can rake in $80—equal to four months' salary for an average government employee. The capital is littered with unfinished hotels and tower blocks, many abandoned after Asia's 1997 economic crash. At scenic Kandawgyi Lake, the tennis courts at an uninhabited apartment complex have been reclaimed by the jungle, while the enterprising caretaker supplements his meager income by raising bananas in the forecourt. The government apparently does little for the poor. The International Crisis Group says that in 2004 the junta spent a total of only $22,000 to help AIDS victims. Says a Burmese economist: "If you don't care about your people, then sanctions are not an issue."

The junta blames U.S. sanctions for the country's financial hardships. When the U.S. banned all imports from Burma in 2003, the country lost one of its biggest trading partners, which bought some $350 million in Burmese-made goods annually. Textile companies were hit especially hard, and the U.S. government estimates that 40,000 Burmese textile workers quickly lost their jobs. Burma's democracy movement insists that the populace stands behind sanctions, but it's hard to find much support among ordinary Burmese. "We want pressure from the international community, but we don't want sanctions," says a Rangoon-based Burmese journalist. "Our people are very, very poor."

However, the junta's own inept and unpredictable economic policies inflict far more damage than sanctions cause. For example, the prices of essential services suddenly surge when the government decides it needs cash. Last August, fees for water service rose eightfold after the government reduced subsidies; in September, the cost of a ride on Rangoon's antiquated buses jumped from 20 kyat to 50 kyat in a week. One measure of the country's economic dysfunctionality is that while the kyat's official exchange rate is about six to a dollar, the black market values the dollar at 1,160 kyat. When the generals want to halt the currency's decline, they detain illegal—but usually tolerated—money changers operating out of shops and markets. The banking sector still barely functions three years after it suffered a collapse in public confidence and a run on deposits due to feeble government oversight. All of this economic chaos keeps survival, not politics, uppermost in most Burmese minds. "We're not thinking about Aung San Suu Kyi or General Than Shwe," says one Burmese trader. "We're thinking about food, clothes and housing."

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	Caught in the Middle [Jul. 19, 2005] Hunted by Burma's military junta and unwanted by Thailand, the Shan are fighting for their lives Hunting the Junta [May. 23, 2005] A new report targets Burma's military rulers for crimes against its minority ethnic groups A Purge in Burma [Oct. 25, 2004] By sacking Prime Minister Khin Nyunt, the junta abandons even the pretense of a more liberal future Stone Age [Apr. 22, 2004] The military strongmen who rule Burma have made the country a global byword for backwardness and brutality More Related Items | Search all issues of TIME Magazine