Kutupalong (Bangladesh): Blood stains still mark the spot where killers shot Mohib Ullah, an activist who was the leading voice for 850,000. Rohingya living in fear Bangladeshi refugee camp,
In the weeks following the murder, a senior member of the now Shellshock volunteer group led by Ulla received phone calls that he would be next. And he’s not alone.
Afraid of revealing his real name or being filmed, Noor told AFP: “They may hunt you down the way our leader and so many people shamelessly shot dead.”
They believe that “they” are members of the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA), a rebel group. myanmar army But the camps are also believed to be behind a wave of killings and criminal activity.
ARSA has denied that he killed Ulla.
Most of the Rohingya have been in the camps since 2017, when they fled a brutal military offensive in Buddhist-majority Myanmar, where the predominantly Muslim minority is condemned and viewed as such. illegal immigrants, intruders,
Refusing to return until they are assured of security and equal rights, refugees remain trapped in bamboo and wire shanties without work, poor sanitation and little education for their children.
Overflowing toilets fill narrow mud alleys with excrement during the monsoon season, and fires can flare up within minutes during hot summers.
Bangladesh authorities provide some security during the day. But at night the camps become the domain of gangs – allegedly linked to the ARSA – who smuggle millions of dollars worth of methamphetamine out of Myanmar.
“As soon as the sun sets, the landscape is different,” Israfil, a Rohingya refugee known by the name, told AFP.
“Dark times are long hours when they do what they want to do,” he said.
Working amidst the chaos and unrest in the camps, Ulla and his colleagues quietly document the crimes their men suffered at the hands of the Myanmar military, while pushing for better conditions.
The former schoolteacher shot to prominence in 2019, when he staged a protest of nearly 100,000 people in the camps, two years after his exodus.
That year he met US President Donald Trump at the White House and addressed a United Nations meeting in Geneva.
But his fame with ARSA seems to have waned badly.
His aides and rights activists say he saw Ullah as a threat to his place as the sole voice representing the Rohingya.
“He became a thorn in ARSA’s side,” said Noor Khan Liton, a top rights activist in Bangladesh.
“ARSA was also stunned by his tremendous popularity.”
Three weeks after Ullah’s assassination in late September, gunmen and weapon-wielding attackers killed seven people at an Islamic seminary who allegedly refused security money to ARSA.
A top migrant Rohingya activist said, “The brutal massacre had all traces of ARSA. The group previously killed at least two top Islamic clerics because they did not support ARSA’s violent struggle.”
“ARSA has carried out the killings to establish its complete control over the camps. After the latest massacre, everyone has gone silent,” he said, asking to remain anonymous.
Following the attack on the seminary, the UN refugee agency urged Bangladeshi authorities to “take immediate measures to improve security in refugee camps”.
A series of turf war killings in 2019 prompted the Bangladesh Army to install barbed wire fencing around the camps. The elite Armed Police Battalion was assigned the task of patrolling the area.
The police have also conducted several security operations in which dozens have reportedly been killed. Rohingya drug smugglers,
But although he has arrested dozens of people in connection with Ullah’s murder, he denies ARSA’s activity, instead blaming “rivalry” in the camps.
“The RSA has no presence in the camps,” Naimul Haque, the commanding officer of the Kutupalong camp, told AFP.
Members of Ullah’s group are not convinced, saying that their security concerns fall on deaf ears.
Some even go as far as to say that the ARSA and Bangladesh’s security forces are colluding – Dhaka vehemently denies this.
Kyaw Min, a top Rohingya leader, said police assist ARSA to “rule out” at night, when they are not “easily” around when they work.
A month before he died, Ullah sent a letter, seen by AFP but could not be independently verified, to Bangladeshi authorities.
He named 70 people in the camps, said they were ARSA members, and said he and his colleagues feared for their lives.
Bangladesh refugee commissioner Shah Rezwan Hayat and camp in-charge Atikul Mamun denied receiving any such letter.
Family members of senior Rohingya leaders told AFP that Bangladesh security forces have since relocated at least six families, including Ullah, fearing they will be targeted.
“We thought we would be safe in Bangladesh. But now we don’t know when the killers will knock on our door,” activist Sa Phyo Thida told AFP.
Like those genocide days in Myanmar in 2017, when we lived in fear of military death squads, we are now living in extreme fear.
In the weeks following the murder, a senior member of the now Shellshock volunteer group led by Ulla received phone calls that he would be next. And he’s not alone.
Afraid of revealing his real name or being filmed, Noor told AFP: “They may hunt you down the way our leader and so many people shamelessly shot dead.”
They believe that “they” are members of the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA), a rebel group. myanmar army But the camps are also believed to be behind a wave of killings and criminal activity.
ARSA has denied that he killed Ulla.
Most of the Rohingya have been in the camps since 2017, when they fled a brutal military offensive in Buddhist-majority Myanmar, where the predominantly Muslim minority is condemned and viewed as such. illegal immigrants, intruders,
Refusing to return until they are assured of security and equal rights, refugees remain trapped in bamboo and wire shanties without work, poor sanitation and little education for their children.
Overflowing toilets fill narrow mud alleys with excrement during the monsoon season, and fires can flare up within minutes during hot summers.
Bangladesh authorities provide some security during the day. But at night the camps become the domain of gangs – allegedly linked to the ARSA – who smuggle millions of dollars worth of methamphetamine out of Myanmar.
“As soon as the sun sets, the landscape is different,” Israfil, a Rohingya refugee known by the name, told AFP.
“Dark times are long hours when they do what they want to do,” he said.
Working amidst the chaos and unrest in the camps, Ulla and his colleagues quietly document the crimes their men suffered at the hands of the Myanmar military, while pushing for better conditions.
The former schoolteacher shot to prominence in 2019, when he staged a protest of nearly 100,000 people in the camps, two years after his exodus.
That year he met US President Donald Trump at the White House and addressed a United Nations meeting in Geneva.
But his fame with ARSA seems to have waned badly.
His aides and rights activists say he saw Ullah as a threat to his place as the sole voice representing the Rohingya.
“He became a thorn in ARSA’s side,” said Noor Khan Liton, a top rights activist in Bangladesh.
“ARSA was also stunned by his tremendous popularity.”
Three weeks after Ullah’s assassination in late September, gunmen and weapon-wielding attackers killed seven people at an Islamic seminary who allegedly refused security money to ARSA.
A top migrant Rohingya activist said, “The brutal massacre had all traces of ARSA. The group previously killed at least two top Islamic clerics because they did not support ARSA’s violent struggle.”
“ARSA has carried out the killings to establish its complete control over the camps. After the latest massacre, everyone has gone silent,” he said, asking to remain anonymous.
Following the attack on the seminary, the UN refugee agency urged Bangladeshi authorities to “take immediate measures to improve security in refugee camps”.
A series of turf war killings in 2019 prompted the Bangladesh Army to install barbed wire fencing around the camps. The elite Armed Police Battalion was assigned the task of patrolling the area.
The police have also conducted several security operations in which dozens have reportedly been killed. Rohingya drug smugglers,
But although he has arrested dozens of people in connection with Ullah’s murder, he denies ARSA’s activity, instead blaming “rivalry” in the camps.
“The RSA has no presence in the camps,” Naimul Haque, the commanding officer of the Kutupalong camp, told AFP.
Members of Ullah’s group are not convinced, saying that their security concerns fall on deaf ears.
Some even go as far as to say that the ARSA and Bangladesh’s security forces are colluding – Dhaka vehemently denies this.
Kyaw Min, a top Rohingya leader, said police assist ARSA to “rule out” at night, when they are not “easily” around when they work.
A month before he died, Ullah sent a letter, seen by AFP but could not be independently verified, to Bangladeshi authorities.
He named 70 people in the camps, said they were ARSA members, and said he and his colleagues feared for their lives.
Bangladesh refugee commissioner Shah Rezwan Hayat and camp in-charge Atikul Mamun denied receiving any such letter.
Family members of senior Rohingya leaders told AFP that Bangladesh security forces have since relocated at least six families, including Ullah, fearing they will be targeted.
“We thought we would be safe in Bangladesh. But now we don’t know when the killers will knock on our door,” activist Sa Phyo Thida told AFP.
Like those genocide days in Myanmar in 2017, when we lived in fear of military death squads, we are now living in extreme fear.
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