He said some of the laborers had made their way back into Bogalay under cover of darkness to ask the monks for food.
In another video, people who look scared and speechless, some crying, are loaded onto a large military truck in front of a monastery as an army officer with stars on his epaulets supervises. Two other soldiers stand nearby, apparently compiling lists of the storm survivors' names.
The U.N., the U.S. State Department and human rights groups have long accused the military regime that rules Myanmar, also called Burma, of using forced labor for road building and other projects. Activists who speak out against forced labor are routinely jailed.
The abbot said 36 monks are running the underground relief effort, along with 10 volunteer doctors and 20 village navigators who help them maneuver through the delta's network of rivers and canals to elude patrol boats and reach isolated villages.
"We're preparing for a confrontation," the monk said. "If they try to close us down, we're prepared to fight."
Echoing accusations made in other parts of the disaster zone in recent days, the monk said local authorities were providing barely enough basic food for storm victims to survive, while hoarding the rest for profit.
"They are selling the most valuable things to businessmen in Chinatown," he charged.
Sein Lwin's village is half an hour's walk from the closest river, so the monks' boats, and other unauthorized relief operations, don't reach it.
When the boats make their quick stops with aid at a nearby village, Sein Lwin and his neighbors must ask for a share of the fresh supplies. They make do with what other destitute survivors are willing to give up, usually just 2 cups of rice per person each day.
Cash savings disappeared in the cyclone-driven surge of waves at least 8 feet high that raced through the village. Gaping holes in Sein Lwin's roof are patched up with pieces of tarp that he dragged from the river as they floated past after the storm.
The cyclone smashed a brick and cinder-block primary school to rubble. All of the books are gone, and no one has heard from the teachers, who live in Bogalay and were scheduled to start classes again on June 1 for 80 students.
Many of Sein Lwin's neighbors have rashes from washing in filthy water. Eight adults in the next village have diarrhea.
So far, they're coping with antibiotics, but villagers said they fear health problems will get worse the longer they live in such primitive conditions.
When a visitor asked why the regime would refuse to help so many people like him, Sein Lwin stared blankly ahead. More than 20 villagers in the room with him sat in uncomfortable silence. They were afraid to speak their minds.
