The Rohingya Letters

The Rohingya Letters

It took endless bribes, running from the police, scouts and inside help to get these letters. Letters that simply tell the shortened story of what it's like to be a Rohingya. Getting involved with them pretty much means that you're now one of them and it's a terrible thing, especially when you're in a country that has no issues with their genocide.

This is the Rohingya conflict on the Bangladeshi side.

After I walked into Nayapara camp an official asked me to sit down with him. I said no, ran and booked right. Following me were 3 Rohingya kids that taught themselves English. They learned from a book called "how to read american newspapers." They learned by candle light, hiding in their homes and silently pronouncing words to themselves in the night. They live their whole lives in hiding, pretending to be Bangladeshi citizens to move across the checkpoints that block the camp exits. That's how everyone lives, having to deny what they are.

(Zonayed teaching himself English by a book called “How to Read American Newspapers” in secret from the locals that patrol the camps)

They took me to Lada camp, which is the unrecognized home to approximately 15,000 in even worse conditions. The initial security in this camp is weak, but it's there and time is running out the moment you step in. Local Bangladeshi spies are wandering the camp and looking to report outsiders to the police for money. Everyone starts cheering in the streets because by showing up, they think you can change their future. A testament to how, little to nobody steps into their world. The first Rohingya woman I talked to was suffering from malaria and the conversation went like so,

"This woman has malaria." said, Arif (one of the Rohingya kids that translated).

"Is there medicine you can take?" said, me.

"No, I don't have to money to get it." said, the Rohingya woman.

"So will you die?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a family?"

"Yes."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

(Arif to the left translating, Untreated Malarial woman, Me realizing that she’s accepted death)

She walked away, and I was invited into a Rohingya man's home. The Rohingya began to barricade the door and it looked like they were there to listen. The man told me that they were there protect me in case officials came after me. He then explained that they're not allowed to talk about their suffering to anyone that comes by. If they do, officials will beat them, their families and maybe even more. I began to video the conversation and told him to please explain the suffering he's been through. He spoke and kept glancing at the door, the people fearing that something might happen to all of us. Of all the things he hated most, he hates how the local Bangladeshi rob the food and aid trucks that were meant for them. Without these basic supplies, it is nature that will slowly kill them off, which is exactly what the country wants. Right after that the Rohingya kids and I had to run. They weren't safe around me and I wasn't safe around them. That day it was just the police, but it would grow to where the whole country would work to separate us. Even the Rohingya themselves.  

(Frame 1: Caught candid, a local Bangladeshi spy ready to dial the police for my arrest.)

(Frame 2: Letting them express themselves. The man keeps checking the door for authorities.)

(Frame 3: Baricading the door and ready to aid in my safe passage. They know the risks.)

Exodus

The Rohingya are media famous for their boat journeys to other countries. It is not a small feat. It is an exodus across the Andaman sea, 2000 miles, packed into little wood boats, no compass and praying to wash up onto the shores of Malaysia. The only country that will accept the refugees if they can make it. If they hit neighboring Thailand they are detained and jailed. Their situation even worse than when they started. But the game has changed. The wood boats are gone and cargo ships from the edge of the country work in a massive smuggling rings and take an efficient 10 days to reach Malaysia. Once there they can look for work and begin a better life, even though they still won't have their citizenship. I asked the kids to take me to the heart of the smuggling.

(The wood fishing cargo boats that take them to Malaysia. Just waiting for the business.)

This is Dakinphara, the edge of the country and home to many Bangladeshi fishermen. The shore is stacked with huge wood cargo ships that of course seem like fishing boats, but actually used to smuggle Rohingya to Malaysia. The cost is about $2200 and made payable to Bangladeshi brokers that wander the refugee camps and arrange the smuggle. This is the route.

1.) Dakinphara, the starting point of the trip

2.) Ko tarutao, the island which they are held till remainder is paid

3.) The jungle route the Thai's use to smuggle

4.) Malaysia

I made the offer but the kids said they wouldn't do it. I couldn't understand. They're so young, so smart and with so much potential. Even without their citizenship, who knows what things they could accomplish if they were in a country that at least wouldn't oppress them or threaten to take their lives. Why wouldn't they go?

It wasn't because they didn't want to leave their families. It wasn't fear of death or the unknown. They didn't want to run. They wanted to fight for their people. They wanted to create their own documentary and show the real suffering and hardships of their people without anyone tainting or altering the story. They wanted the opportunity to do something for themselves and their people. They wanted a computer, a camera, the internet and a way to secretly operate it from the camp. I said yes.

The Internet Age

Checklist

1 Samsung laptop dual processor

1 Nikon digital camera (video function included)

1 android smartphone to stream internet into laptop

1 car battery to power laptop

1 battery converter to power laptop

1 private room month to month rent

$400 of random bribe money

I couldn't go to the refugee camps anymore. Too many people and officials were looking for me, so they came up to Cox's Bazaar to shop for all the pieces. They stayed a few nights and I taught them how to use every basic function of the laptop, camera and smartphone. They learned well and were ready to report live on the Rohingya issues. They were going to set up internet in the camps for the first time in their people's history. They were going to fight back.

(Teaching my first computer class and informing them of the internet)

During this time Bangladesh was going through massive and violent political strikes known as "hartal". It's typical for the entire bus system to shut down for who knows how long and make it impossible to travel anywhere in the country. The streets flood with thousands of people and violence from street brawls to molotov cocktails and death is all common. During these times, there's little I can do but to stay inside.

The day before another hartal strike, I told them to take my iPod touch and record everything they could in the camps. I also told them to get as many people as they could to write letters about their lives and who they are and to take pictures of the people holding their letters. They agreed and would even translate the letters.

When they weren't documenting, they and the rest of the people were working in the brickfields. 12 hours of brickmaking for 100 taka ($1.25 USD). It's important for the Rohingya to have large families so they can work and make enough to at least feed themselves. Small families must send their 4-10 year old to work or else it means starvation. It is slave labor by all means.

(The Rohingya brick fields. Torturingly hot, long labor for $1.25 per 12 hours. Just one of three brothers working so a single brother can go to school)

(Becoming a man, a 5 year old kid works as a fisherman to help feed his family since it’s just him and his mom.)

5 days of Hartal passed and we met again in Teknaf and they had the letters. They had a lot of letters.

(Just a few of hundreds that came forward to share their story.)

   The people were scared to write the letters and have their pictures taken. They thought they were going to be sold or something bad would happen to them. The kids eased their minds by telling them that it was me who was behind the operation. Remembering me from the first time I came by, they agreed even if it meant beatings. They were proud to get to tell their story. However, spies saw the kids taking pictures of people holding up letters and made them pay a bribe or beat them and their families. I had to pay the bribe to protect the 3 kids, but even in the face of threats they weren't scared of anything. It was easy to see that they gained strength in being able to do something for their people.

We immediately mailed the letters off to the states, and we were going to celebrate over lunch. Suddenly, they told me that a "black sheep" Rohingya just spotted us walking around together and that I could not stay in Teknaf. They feared that he would find out where I was staying since there were limited hotels and bring the authorities after me. All so he could get a little bit of money. I could never come back to them. From now on they would have to travel 3 hours up to coast to meet me.

Days later, I got my first email from them. It was amazing. It meant that the laptop setup was successful. They hid everything in bags of trash and snuck it into the camp without anyone's knowledge. They managed to keep everything smooth and silent for the time being.

Now, that the laptop was set up my trip in Bangladesh was over. We would now work together to get the real unbiased and unaltered story of the Rohingya into the global atmosphere. There was little to say except to tell them to be as safe as possible. One of the kid's Zonayed told me he loved me. He is the last living member of his family and feels like he's never been loved, but the thing that brings him down most is that he feels like he's been forsaken by God because he was born into the Rohingya life. I told him I loved him back. He needed to know like the Rohingya needed to know, their story no matter how trampled and buried will never be forgotten.

A few weeks later this email came through. Welcome to the first Rohingya email reporting live on the murder and atrocities committed by the Bangladeshi people

A REFUGEE HAS BEEN KILLED BBANGLADESHI PEOPLES.   

The victim has been identified as a refugee,

Name: Joynal uddin. Age (21). Father’s name: zahid alam.

Mother’s name: Mustafa khatun. MRC# 44869. Shed no 649/6.

When he was returning home after earning money at that moment some Bangladeshi peoples attacked him and told him that where Was he coming from?

He replied them he was coming from Teknaf.

Bangladeshi peoples asked him why he went there?  

And he replied them to work.

Bangladeshi peoples again asked him how money did he have?  

No money he added.

Bangladeshi peoples checked his body and found some money In his pocket.They wanted to snatch the money but the refugee disagreed to give them the money and they stabbed and

cut his neck.       

Therefore, we hope and wish that the (UN) would kindly justify

About refugee as early as possible.