Rohingya flee horrifying fate
Army’s brutality in Myanmar toward minority group has forced estimated 389K into Bangladesh
UKHIA, Bangladesh — The soldiers arrived in the Myanmar village just after 8 a.m., the villagers said, ready to fight a war.
They fired shots in the air, and then, the villagers claim, turned their guns on fleeing residents, who fell dead and wounded in the monsoon-green rice paddy. The military’s retribution for a Rohingya militant attack on police posts earlier that day had begun.
Mohammed Roshid, a rice farmer, heard the gunfire and fled with his wife and children, but his 80-year-old father, who walks with a stick, wasn’t as nimble. Roshid said he saw a soldier grab Yusuf Ali and slit his throat with such ferocity the old man was nearly decapitated.
“I wanted to go back and save him, but some relatives stopped me because there was so many military,” Roshid, 55, said. “It’s the saddest thing in my life that I could not do anything for my father.”
The Myanmar military’s “clearance operation” in the Maung Nu hamlet and dozens of other villages populated by the country’s ethnic Rohingya minority triggered an exodus of an estimated 389,000 refugees into Bangladesh, an episode the United Nations human rights chief has called “ethnic cleansing.” The tide of refugees is expected to grow in the coming days.
Rights groups say it will take months or years to chronicle the devastation they are leaving behind in the nation also known as Burma. Satellite photos show burning, witnesses recount soldiers killing civilians, and the government itself said 176 Rohingya villages stand empty. No total death toll is yet available because the area remains sealed by the military.
The latest wave of violence began Aug. 25, when an emerging group of Rohingya militants, the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army, attacked dozens of police outposts across Rakhine state, killing 12. The military crackdown has prompted hundreds of thousands of refugees to leave Buddhist-majority Myanmar, until recently ruled by a military junta where Rohingya have long faced denial of citizenship and other rights.
The International Rescue Committee estimates that eventually 500,000 will flee to Bangladesh, half of the known Rohingya population in the country, most of whom live in troubled Rakhine state. The area has long been riven by tensions between Buddhist villagers and the stateless Rohingya, who have been there for centuries but who are still considered by the government to be illegal immigrants, “Bengalis” from neighboring Bangladesh.
The crisis has prompted widespread outcry and condemnation of Burma and its de facto leader, Nobel laureate Aung San Suu Kyi. She and her government have said little about the plight of the Rohingya. On Monday, the U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights, Zeid Ra’ad al-Hussein, called the exodus “a textbook example of ethnic cleansing.”
In Maung Nu, a tiny hamlet of about 750 houses that sits along a narrow stretch of the slow-moving Mayu River, the Rohingya had long lived in relative calm.
But their coexistence ended on when Rohingya insurgents launched their attack on police posts. The military crackdown has continued unabated since then, black smoke scudding across the skyline visible in southern Bangladesh even this past week.
Mohammed Showife, 23, an auto mechanic, said on the first day of the assault he and his family had just finished their morning prayers and were preparing rice when three soldiers appeared in the yard, announcing their arrival with a strafe of machine-gun fire and telling them they had to leave their homes immediately.
He and his family members scattered, and he stopped to help his neighbor Mohammed Rafique, 17, whose right hip had been run clean through by a bullet, back to front. They ran through a mob looting homes and soldiers setting fire to other dwellings with shoulder-fired rocket launchers. Many took refuge in the jungle, where the dense foliage, thick after the monsoon, provided cover.
The first night came, an uneasy darkness settled in, the sky flickering with fire and shadows. They did not know then there would be five nights more.
On the second day, a businessman hiding in his house got a call from a tall, skinny Army sergeant they all knew and called “Bajo,” who had often dined in his home.
Bajo said the military was going to be requisitioning one of his passenger boats. Given the circumstances, Mohammed Zubair, 40, felt he had no choice but to give it to them. He sent the boat with the captain to the jetty at the nearby army camp. The officers accepted the keys with the warning for the captain: “You will also be killed.” The boat driver eventually escaped unharmed with the others.
Zubair said he had followed to see what was to become of his vessel. He says he watched in horror as the military began stacking dead bodies on the boat, one after the other, like lumber, including two 13-year-old boys he knew well.
“I fainted from seeing this,” Zubair said. He believes they were dumped in the river.
On the third day, Rafique’s mother, Khalida Begum, 35, had grown tired of moving from house to house with her four other children, desperate for news of her son. They managed to make it to the jungle, where she saw Rafique lying motionless underneath a tree.
She ran to him and covered his face with kisses, joyfully, as he emerged from his haze.
On the sixth day, the residents of Maung Nu decided as a group they would start walking north to the border with Bangladesh, fearing the danger was growing.
They walked for eight days with few provisions, eating banana leaves and drinking water from streams.
Finally, they reached a crossing high on a hill marked by a simple pillar that they understood meant they had arrived in Bangladesh. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. It was raining. Before them was a new city of refugees, thousands of temporary tents, bamboo poles covered in black plastic sheeting.
At the pillar, a little cheer went up. “I was very happy,” Khalida Begum said. “I was crazy, I was excited, I thought — now we are safe.”
Days later, Khalida Begum’s eyes filled with tears when she recounted this moment. It was the first time she had allowed herself to believe what the others had hoped for: that her son would live.
A makeshift Rohingya refugee camp on the way to Teknaf from Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.