“What will happen to me if the Myanmar Army catches me on the way home?”
This question stayed in my mind for months. I was living safely in Kerala, India, but I knew I had to go back. Returning home was not an easy trip. It felt like a war in my mind. I knew the military government was waiting at the checkpoints with lists of names. They were looking for any reason to take people like me to prison or interrogation rooms.
From far away, I read the news. I saw civilians protesting and many people getting killed. It felt strange to watch the world go by normally around me while my own country was burning.
My big brother begged me not to go back. He understood how dangerous the situation was. He wanted me to study in another country and work to support our family from safety. That was the smart choice. But my desire to go home was too strong. I did not want to run away to a foreign country. I wanted to stand on my own soil and work for what I believe in. I was ready to take the risk, even if it meant death.
Fear at the Airport
On January 5th, 2024, I flew to Sittwe. I was so worried. My fear grew even stronger when the plane started to land. Looking out the window, I just wanted to pass the gates quickly and get downtown.
But the baggage claim area was terrifying. Police officers stood there, carefully checking everyone’s names against a paper list. Every second felt like an hour.
I knew I could not stay the night in Sittwe because it was too dangerous. There was no legal or safe way to get to my village. To get there, I had to pass three police checkpoints and military lines. I looked around outside and found a tuk-tuk driver. His face looked experienced, like he knew how to travel these dangerous roads.
A mother with two small babies joined me because she also wanted to leave Sittwe. We got into the tuk-tuk and pretended we were only going to a nearby village. If the soldiers found out we were trying to go to Rathedaung (Mayukam) and cross the restricted Mayu River, they would arrest us. We had already heard rumours that some people were killed trying to use this route.
Crossing the River
The danger did not end at the river. The Mayu River was the final barrier. On the other side was my village, which is controlled by the ULA (United League of Arakan). Crossing this water was a huge risk. The Myanmar Navy patrolled the river, and they would shoot at any unauthorized boats. No boats were allowed to cross.
The boatman stood by the water, looking at the river and checking for navy ships. Finally, he decided it was time to go.
As the wooden boat moved out onto the water, my heartbeat faster and faster. My hands and feet became sweaty from fear. I was terrified, but I tried to look calm so I wouldn’t scare the mother and her two children sitting near me.
For 30 long minutes, the boat engine roared against the water. Every shadow on the river looked like a navy ship. We were completely unprotected.
Finally, the boat hit the mud on the other side of the riverbank. As soon as my feet touched the ground, the heavy fear in my chest disappeared. For the first time in weeks, I could finally breathe fully. I was home.
Ready for the Dream Now!