She's giving us almost exactly the same speech as she did in Yangon. 'Sokay I guess - most of the Singapore audience hasn't heard any of this yet. Stuff about the power of art:
Ju: Literature teaches me value of life. Literature teaches me how to love, literature teaches me how to respect others, literature teaches me how to be responsive. Only art can move people forward and only art can change our minds through our hearts.    
Ju: Art is a very effective tool for communication.

When I saw this picture, I fell in love with condoms. At first I was very shy even to look at condoms, let alone to touch it. But you have condom bicycles, condom flowers. It is very beautiful. So art can communicate with people. Art can be a translator. 

So art is everywhere. And we use art .
Oh, this is new: she's talking about the role of poetry in her life, specifically English language poetry. It seems she's been incredibly moved by Robert Frost's Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening - and even more so by William Ernest Henley's Invictus.
Ju: My generation, almost 20 or 30 years ago, almost all of us students know this poem, because this poem was translated into Myanmar by our late leader, General Aung San. And so we try to read it, and we realize this poem encouraged him, General Aung San – atthat time he was maybe 30, 27 eyars old – to overcome the difficulties, the disturbances, the fear, everything. So the art: maybe they encourage us. Everything.
And vitally - this is huge - she's giving us some background about the social movement that helped to halt the construction of the Myit Son Dam, which would've ruined the ecosystems and cultures along the Ayerawady River. Seems the Ju Foundation brought together a coalition of writers, artists, scientists, hydrologists, even indigenous grassroots leaders to discuss the impact. Ecological reports, Art of Watershed exhibitions, warnings of how the Kachin communities of the area would be flooded in 20 seconds if the dam were to crack.
Ju: Then at end of 2011, our president announced the Myit Soe was suspended.

Can we call it a success? Maybe or maybe not. Because it it is not stopped totally. Because he said it is stopped until he is re-elected. But we call it success, because it stops now, and we have tomove forward to continue this social movement.
KS opens the floor for a Q&A:
KS: Do you think it would’ve been different for you if you were not an artist, just as social activist?

Ju: if I were a social worker maybe I would do it  a different way. But I am an artist, so we organize through art. Yes we do it, but we have to do it in a creative way, so people will believe us and we can convince even the politicians.

KS: What is a creative way?

Ju: Creative way is not the ordinary way. When we organize people, we include all the people. We know the value of the cartoonist, value of the photographer, and we include them. We include rockers, singers, painters, even the grassroots leaders. We invited the grassroots leaders from every tribe, especially the Kachin tribe, from very remote areas. We sponsored them and we let them stay in Yangon or Mandalay for four days or five days, and we trained them. We shared the knowledge with them, because sometimes we have to learn from indidgenous knwoeldge. So we are like friends: not like trainer and trainee. Not like training, but like we are going happily. I think so.

KS: It’s interesting because when I created this brochure, they had some journalists come to us and say the Flying Circus is very political this year. I said why do you think this way? They said because we are involving people about journalism, activism. And I was quite shocked by that, because it was like artists have no role to play in political issues, according to this particular journalist. Like art should be just about beauty.
Excitingly, the conversation turns to censorship:
KS: How do you avoid the censors? This is a lesson we need to learn in Singapore.

Ju: It is very tricky. Because I am very well-known, and they thought I was doing something. And they were very cautious about watching my manuscript and every time they look, they read, they founds oemthing to censor. So what I have to do is a I feed them something to censor – just 10 or 15 words, or one paragraph, so they try to move it out. And then I very cautiously wrote what I really want to be in it, that novel. And they saw the first paragraph, they let me take it out, and the second paragraph and third paragraph, they miss.

In this way I have to cheat – it’s not a good word, but I have to cheat. But sometimes they are very clever. And they let me take out the whole paragraph and the whole pages. Yes, sometimes I lose. But sometimes I win. But the thing is, I have to write and write and write. When I submit my manuscript,t I have to rpay to lord Buddha, pelase help me, please help e,  don’t want it cut down. And sometimes my prayers are heard. But not always.

But it doesn’t matter. What matters is you have to keep writing for your audience.

How do ou avoid the cesnors? This is a lesson we need to learn in Singaproe.

It is very tricky. Because I am very well-known, and they thought I was doing something. And they were very cautious about watching my manuscript and every time they look, they read,t hey founds oemthing to censor. So what I have to do is a I feed them something to censor – just ten or fifteen words, or one paragraph, so they try to move it out. And then I very cautiously wrote what I really want to be in it, that novel. And they saw the first paragraph, they let me take it out, and the second paragraph and third paragraph, they miss.

In this way I have to cheat – it’s not a good word, but I have to cheat. But sometimes they are very clever. And they let me take out the whole paragraph and the whole pages. Yes, sometimes I lose. But sometimes I win. But the thing is, I have to write and write and write. When I submit my manuscript,t I have to rpay to lord Buddha, pelase help me, please help e,  don’t want it cut down. And sometimes my prayers are heard. But not always.

But it doesn’t matter. What matters ifs you have to keep writing for your audience. 
 
 
Ju’s a best-selling novelist: author of over 19 novels and over 60 short stories (she says this is a minimum guesstimate). She’s also the founder of Ju Foundation, an environmental group that was involved in the Myistone Dam protests, funded with the proceeds of her books. Plus she’s unmarried and supports a family of 11 kids – her brother’s and sister’s, I think.

Superwoman, no? But the truth is that after Ko Tar she’s a breath of fresh air, because she’s so refreshingly human.
Ju: Actually believe it or not, I don’t like Powerpoint. I hate Powerpoint presentations, but I do it in case you don’t hear my English words.
Sure, she gave us some touchy-feely stuff about her love of art, the pollution of the Ayeyarwady, orphans of Hurricane Nargis healing their trauma through drawings, and her mother’s songs about black-blue-and-white pigeons. 
Ju: The little sound of fluttering wings of a dragonfly teaches me to touch it very carefully so as not to hurt it.  This too is art.
But then she started talking about gender.
Ju: I don’t hate men. I like them as friends and as my boyfriends. But I don’t like get married. I don’t want them to be my husbands.
She’s seen as a feminist writer, ‘cos she writes about women’s education, women’s independence, especially in rural areas where there’s little access to learning for girls. She’s a speaker for the silent, telling the tales that her patients and friends are too scared to reveal themselves.

Yet she denies that she’s a feminist.
Julie Tolentino: You write about women, you love women, why don’t you call yourself a feminist?

Ju: I am not as strong as a true feminist. Some time in the past, a young boy was like, “Madam, please sit.” And I took his place happily. So I don’t think I’m a feminist! I took his offer and said, “Thank you very much.”

Julie: It’s okay to be a sitting down feminist!
Oh, but she struggles with her womanhood sometimes.  For example: ladies aren’t allowed to touch the gold leaf of the most important pagodas in Myanmar, never mind that it was a princess who caused the construction of Shwemawdaw and a queen gave her weight in gold to gild Shwedagon.
Ju: Sometimes I think I am too feminist. But sometimes I want to touch Buddha’s toes and his robe by myself. Sometimes I want to touch it. So sometimes I go to see the Trustees’ Committee, and when they are not looking at me I touch it. Just to see. What it feels like when I touch my lord Buddha. Just for a minute. That thin gold leaf.
Then there’s the government: the military dictatorship’s been so testosterone-heavy that Myanmar got its first female minister just last year, in 2012.
Ju: I have to tell you about my situation of hardness. I gave a talk at a military event. I was there with another four writers, men. And I didn’t have the right to sit next to my colleagues, because I was a woman.

They said, “Oh Siam Mat, your place is over there.” And I said, “Why can’t I sit with my colleague?”

“Because you are woman.”

It was not a military building. It was a town hall building, and the talk was sponsored by the military.

But everybody was waiting for me to sit. So I gave up. If I didn’t give up, they wouldn’t be able to start the ceremony. So I had to sit with all the wives of the generals.
Speaking of politics, she’s been extremely alarmed by efforts to expunge General Aung San from the historical record. Kids over the past ten or twenty years haven’t learned about him in school.    
Ju: I asked one girl, “Do you know why July 19 is Azani Nei (Martyrs’ Day)? She said it was the day the rock singer Azani was born!

And last month I asked a first film student, “You know General Aung San?” “He is the son of Aung San Suu Kyi.”

Oh my god! What’s happened to my country?    
What indeed? Don’t worry, Ju – you’re not the only one asking herself that question these days.