By Ro Maung Shwe
Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, September 12, 2025, Eight years after Myanmar’s 2017 genocidal campaign against the Rohingya, Fatema Khatun, a 52-year-old mother from Ward-2 Bomufara in Maungdaw, still carries wounds that time cannot heal. Today she lives in a fragile shelter in Bangladesh with her extended family of 18 members. Her story is one of survival, loss, and an unending plea for justice — a testimony that mirrors the fate of an entire persecuted people.
Life Before the Darkness
Fatema’s family lived modestly but with dignity. Her sons were mechanics, repairing vehicles in Maungdaw town to sustain their household. Neighbors exchanged visits, families shared meals, and children went to school, even if under restrictions imposed by the Myanmar authorities. “We were poor but proud,” she recalled. “We had a home, work, and our community.”
That life shattered in 2017 when the Myanmar military launched a brutal crackdown. Soldiers beat her sons, raided homes, and forced neighbors to flee to Bangladesh. Villages were emptied in days. Fatema’s family chose to remain behind, fearing the uncertainties of refugee camps. What followed were eight long years of slow suffocation — food insecurity, constant fear, isolation, and the humiliation of being treated as outsiders in their own land.
The New Wave of Violence
In August 2024, a new tragedy unfolded. Armed clashes between the Arakan Army (AA) and the Myanmar military turned Rohingya villages into war zones. Fatema testified that AA forces deliberately targeted Rohingya civilians.
“I saw women dragged out and raped. Men were executed in front of their families. Homes were torched. Mass graves were dug. Over a hundred thousand of us were forced into detention camps. It was not just war — it was a campaign to erase us,” she said.
She described villages filled with smoke, screams, and silence — the silence of those buried without names. For her, the violence carried echoes of 2017, only this time the perpetrators were not only the junta but also the Arakan Army, claiming to “liberate” Arakan while brutalizing its most vulnerable residents.
Losing a Son to Gunfire
The most searing wound came on August 5, 2025. While fleeing toward the Bangladesh border, her 18-year-old son, Habib Ullah, a grade-eight student with dreams of becoming a teacher, was killed by AA gunfire.
“He always told us to leave before it was too late. Those were his last words. But I never buried him. Airstrikes and drones forced us to run. His body remained on the ground. A mother’s heart breaks forever when she cannot even give her son a proper burial,” Fatema cried.
Habib’s death was not isolated. That day, dozens were killed in the same corridor of escape, caught in crossfire and aerial bombardment.
The Massacre at the Naf River
Fatema’s most harrowing memories come from the banks of the Naf River. Alongside thousands of others waiting to cross into Bangladesh, she witnessed devastation.
“Over four hundred were killed in front of us. A woman beside me was hit by a drone strike — her body ripped apart, her liver lying in two pieces. An old man’s skull burst open by a blast. Children drowned as boats capsized after being struck. My son’s fate was theirs too,” she said, her voice trembling.
Her family survived only because a stranger paid their crossing costs. “May Almighty Allah bless him. Without his kindness, we would have perished too.”
Struggling in Exile
In Bangladesh, safety did not mean comfort. Fatema’s extended family of 18 crammed into a flimsy shelter in Cox’s Bazar. Of them, only four are adult men capable of work, but legal restrictions bar them from employment.
They depend entirely on humanitarian aid, which has been shrinking as donor fatigue grows. Food is rationed, healthcare limited, and fears of kidnapping and insecurity haunt daily life in the camps. “We only survive on food and medicine,” she said. “But even if we die here, we will not return to Myanmar until justice and rights are guaranteed. Under AA, we will never be safe.”
A Plea to the World
Fatema’s appeal is urgent and direct:
“We are the most vulnerable community. Please hear our voice. Support us until we can return home safely. Hold Myanmar and the Arakan Army accountable for their crimes of genocide. We ask the United States, the European Union, the Arab world, Asia, and every international partner — do not forget us. Our lives matter.”
A Story of Collective Pain
Fatema’s testimony is not hers alone. It echoes the collective suffering of a people enduring genocide, displacement, and neglect. Her story is a reminder that as global headlines shift elsewhere, the Rohingya continue to live and die under conditions that strip them of dignity and hope.
Her son’s unfinished life, the bodies she saw scattered at the Naf River, and the newborn grandson she now cradles in Bangladesh — all are chapters of a struggle that has lasted decades.
The world’s silence emboldens perpetrators. The responsibility now lies with the international community to act decisively: provide sustained humanitarian support, ensure accountability for crimes against humanity, and secure protection so that Fatema’s plea — and the voices of countless others like her — are not forgotten.
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