People gather in small groups around the Mae Tao Clinic in Mae Sot, Thailand. Everyone is standing in the shade to escape the heat of the sun as they wait to receive treatment. One of the patients is a Karen man who lost his leg to a landmine while searching for food in the jungle. There are also several other victims of the decades-old conflict between Burmese regime troops and ethnic rebels in Karen State.
Ko Tun Min, a slightly-built man of 26, is one of them. Because he has just recently fled from Burma, he agrees to speak to me only after I promise not to use his real name.
Ko Tun Myint tells me that he's from a town called Malaing, where he made a living selling charcoal. Until recently, however, he lived in Meiktila, a city in central Burma, where he was a convict in that city's prison.
He explains that he was serving a three-year sentence for fighting with three other men. This was six months after he married his wife.
In the end, Ko Tun Myint spent just seven months behind bars. He wasn't released for good behavior or as part of an amnesty, but because Burma's government decided he would be more useful as a porter for the country's army. He was sent to eastern Karen State, where Burmese troops were fighting the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army, a former cease-fire group that refused to disarm.
That was two months ago. He said the warden of Meiktila Prison, Myint Swe, selected 30 inmates to send to Pa-an Prison in Karen State, where he joined around 2,000 other prisoners who had been chosen to go to the battlefield.
“It is better to stay in prison than be taken as an army porter, because you are much more likely to die as a porter than as a prisoner,” said Ko Tun Min.
At Pa-an, the prisoners were loaded into military trucks and taken to different military operation zones along the border with Thailand. He and his fellow inmates from Meiktila were shipped to Military Operation Command No 1.
In prison, Ko Tun Min did hard labor picking chilies, but on the front line, he had to carry heavy boxes of ammunition, including 81-mm and 120-mm mortars, over the mountains. Anyone who failed to work to the satisfaction of the commanding officer was severely punished.
“We were given just one meal a day—usually papaya curry—and very little water. We carried heavy boxes all day long, and this is all the food we had to keep us going. If we slowed down, the soldiers would hit us with the butts of their guns or kick us with their military boots,” said Ko Tun Min.
As horrible as this was, however, it did not compare with the horror that every porter felt at the possibility of stepping on a landmine. Those who did were left for dead.
Knowing that they would probably meet such a fate sooner or later, 15 porters, including Ko Tun Min, decided one night to try to escape. By this time, Ko Tun Min had been working as a porter for 20 days, and he was half-starved and weak from all the beatings he had received. But even after he was shot in the shoulder by a solider in hot pursuit, he did not stop going.
“When I was hit, I fell into the water. They fired three more rounds into the water, while I tried to stay under and out of sight,” he said.
He was lucky. The soldiers left him, perhaps thinking he was already dead. But he was still far from safe. He spent the rest of the night running toward the Thai border with his fellow escapees. He kept going until he collapsed from exhaustion.
One of the other porters asked for help from a Thai villager. A Thai border guard came and they took him to a hospital.
His shoulder is now partly recovered after a month of treatment at the Mae Tao Clinic. He said that when he is well enough, he wants to return to his hometown to see his wife and daughter.
“My daughter is four months old now, but I have never seen her. If I behave well in my community, I may be able to avoid getting arrested again,” he said hopefully.
He knows, however, what kind of risk he is taking. In Burma, even a minor offense can land a man in prison. And if he is unfortunate enough to be chosen as an army porter, it's the same as receiving a death sentence.
Source:http://irrawaddy.org/article.php?art_id=20969
Ko Tun Min, a slightly-built man of 26, is one of them. Because he has just recently fled from Burma, he agrees to speak to me only after I promise not to use his real name.
Ko Tun Myint tells me that he's from a town called Malaing, where he made a living selling charcoal. Until recently, however, he lived in Meiktila, a city in central Burma, where he was a convict in that city's prison.
He explains that he was serving a three-year sentence for fighting with three other men. This was six months after he married his wife.
In the end, Ko Tun Myint spent just seven months behind bars. He wasn't released for good behavior or as part of an amnesty, but because Burma's government decided he would be more useful as a porter for the country's army. He was sent to eastern Karen State, where Burmese troops were fighting the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army, a former cease-fire group that refused to disarm.
That was two months ago. He said the warden of Meiktila Prison, Myint Swe, selected 30 inmates to send to Pa-an Prison in Karen State, where he joined around 2,000 other prisoners who had been chosen to go to the battlefield.
“It is better to stay in prison than be taken as an army porter, because you are much more likely to die as a porter than as a prisoner,” said Ko Tun Min.
At Pa-an, the prisoners were loaded into military trucks and taken to different military operation zones along the border with Thailand. He and his fellow inmates from Meiktila were shipped to Military Operation Command No 1.
In prison, Ko Tun Min did hard labor picking chilies, but on the front line, he had to carry heavy boxes of ammunition, including 81-mm and 120-mm mortars, over the mountains. Anyone who failed to work to the satisfaction of the commanding officer was severely punished.
“We were given just one meal a day—usually papaya curry—and very little water. We carried heavy boxes all day long, and this is all the food we had to keep us going. If we slowed down, the soldiers would hit us with the butts of their guns or kick us with their military boots,” said Ko Tun Min.
As horrible as this was, however, it did not compare with the horror that every porter felt at the possibility of stepping on a landmine. Those who did were left for dead.
Knowing that they would probably meet such a fate sooner or later, 15 porters, including Ko Tun Min, decided one night to try to escape. By this time, Ko Tun Min had been working as a porter for 20 days, and he was half-starved and weak from all the beatings he had received. But even after he was shot in the shoulder by a solider in hot pursuit, he did not stop going.
“When I was hit, I fell into the water. They fired three more rounds into the water, while I tried to stay under and out of sight,” he said.
He was lucky. The soldiers left him, perhaps thinking he was already dead. But he was still far from safe. He spent the rest of the night running toward the Thai border with his fellow escapees. He kept going until he collapsed from exhaustion.
One of the other porters asked for help from a Thai villager. A Thai border guard came and they took him to a hospital.
His shoulder is now partly recovered after a month of treatment at the Mae Tao Clinic. He said that when he is well enough, he wants to return to his hometown to see his wife and daughter.
“My daughter is four months old now, but I have never seen her. If I behave well in my community, I may be able to avoid getting arrested again,” he said hopefully.
He knows, however, what kind of risk he is taking. In Burma, even a minor offense can land a man in prison. And if he is unfortunate enough to be chosen as an army porter, it's the same as receiving a death sentence.
Source:http://irrawaddy.org/article.php?art_id=20969
Comments
Post a Comment