Odysseus Abroad: Rohingya refugees in Kelambakkam
Regime change in Myanmar will have little impact on the refugee crisis. Whatever the institution, if the uniform is starched with prejudice and hatred, there is little to differentiate one from the other, be it the camouflage worn by the army, or the saffron robes of a monastic order.
Röhan Abraham
Mohammad Karim had the outlandish fortune of being born twice: first as a baby boy on a wind-swept day in a swaying bamboo hut in Kyaukpyu, and then again as a young man who retained the pimple ridden countenance of adolescence as he stood cradling a wailing infant in his arms, taking baby steps as the serpentine queue proceeded to draw them into the dimly lit room that served as the Refugee Status Determination (RSD) office of the United Nations in Jammu. He was already a father before his time.
It was commonplace for Rohingya women to culminate their period of confinement collectively on the first day of the new year, delivering to the good earth, another brood of New Years’ babies. Second hand time has the amorphous quality of being prone to parallax, as the officials at the UNHRC office in Jammu found out much to their bafflement.
The Rohingya are a historically persecuted people within Myanmar, and the inexactitude with which they recollect the day of their birth can be attributed to the fact that they have been denied birth certificates, which is the first step towards citizenship. Hence, the proclivity of Rohingya women to deliver babies on the first day of the year is not a matter of biological coincidence, but a compulsion of reality since time, in Rakhine state does not deal in smaller denominations.The common currency by which births and deaths are recorded is in years, and usually the first day of every passing year is arbitrarily selected to mark auspices of any event of considerable reckoning.
On December 9, 2015, Karim was rechristened as Individual Number 305–0009–1229. He could not have asked for a better name or a more picturesque location for the baptismal function, with none other than an emissary of the high priest, Ban Ki Moon, performing the ablution on the banks of the Tawi River, where the refugee camp for Rohingya refugees had pitched tent.
The journey from Myanmar to their final abode had not been an uneventful one. The exodus from Rakhine state was initially undertaken by boat, with the dinghies provided by the dalals making short work of the ford across the estuaries where the Gangetic river basin empties into the Bay of Bengal. The passage to Bangladesh took only 15 minutes, said Dil Mohammad, who had taken it upon himself to speak on behalf of the Rohingya settled at Kelambakkam.
The dalals who had procured a passage for them further arranged for buses to transport them to Calcutta after infiltrating the porous border between Bangladesh and West Bengal. Those among the party who were fortunate to escape the watchful gaze of the paramilitary forces, made their way to Jammu, where they hoped to secure asylum.
“The dalal, or the middleman who arranged the passage would have to be paid 15000 Indian rupees, which would amount to 150000 Burmese kyat,” added Dil Mohammad. A substantial number of voyagers end up languishing in jails in Kolkata since they cannot afford to pay the bail bond worth Rs. 6000.
It is customary for a pound of flesh to be paid as lawyers’ fees since on an average most families tend to get broken up and fragmented into smaller groups depending on chance, with a few getting snared in the police net. The Indian government has of late taken steps by shoring up the personnel manning its eastern border to prevent illegal migration into the mainland.
“My wife and two children are languishing in a jail in Balurghat,” said Ahmad Sheikh, who had managed to get away, albeit at the expense of leaving behind his family, and the shadow of guilt passed through his remorseful eyes when he made this admission. Balurghat, which is a border district, is territory laden with potential landmines for those wishing to seek refuge in India. Sometimes, it is better to be oppressed and in shackles, instead of living free, but being bound by the emotional cords that bind one to the unforgiving past.
The children at the camp attend a government school, situated adjacent to the police station at Kelambakkam. Those aged between 4 and 6, and who were born in India possess Aadhar cards, making it easier for them to meld with the crowd, coalescing their inherited identity with their adopted one. For the older children who had made the journey from their homeland, life is unkind.
When asked about where the children born in India will ultimately settle down, there is an ominous silence. For those whose lives had been snatched away from them by the dint of force, the refugees exhibit composure that is symptomatic of those who are attuned to existence based on the whims and fancies of chance.
“There is no work a Burmese cannot do,” proclaims Dil Mohammad. But the government isn’t willing to relent, withholding the requisite documents that enable refugees from taking up profitable occupation within the country. “It was only a while earlier that we spoke to a couple of representatives from the UNICEF — a madam and a sir. People usually come, take interviews, and click photos, but at the end of the day, they leave us short changed,” he added.
A few benevolent locals bring a few kilograms of dal and rice, which the refugees divide amongst them. Since they aren’t able to fend for themselves, every scrap or morsel that comes their way is a blessing which they are forced to accept, albeit with an injured sense of pride. Charity is for the weak, and the stateless.
The Rohingya aren’t the only ethnic group to flee the idyllic colonial outpost that was Burma, which has subsequently metamorphosed into a strife torn Myanmar. Oftentimes, this fractious divide manifests itself in terra incognita. Buddhists are also known to take the precarious journey to India, going through the rigmarole of securing a passage across borders, both terrestrial and aqueous. Their migration is not caused by communal violence, but due to political compulsions. The military junta, whose nearly five decade long authoritarian rule was quick to silence dissenting voices, left many with no other option but to flee from the metallic talons of the totalitarian regime.
“There are two Buddhists from Burma who have settled down in this district. They get food rations. They get subsidies. They have the same UNHRC card that we do, but we are denied the benefits that they receive from the state,” complained Dil Mohammad.
The predominant opinion is that it may be customary to distribute alms to Buddhist monks, but by extending a fig leaf to them, the Indian government is discriminating against the Rohingya, who hold the same credentials as refugees fleeing persecution. “Is the Indian government blind to the atrocities committed by machete wielding monks who incite and perpetrate violence against our brothers and sisters in Burma and Sri Lanka?” he asked, visibly hot under the collar.
Sri Lankan refugees were accorded much better treatment before many of them were repatriated, and those who are still left behind have been accepted as a part of the local community. The fact that the Rohingya don’t share a common culture or a tongue stands in the way of their assimilation with their neighbours.
In fact, the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) had earlier hauled up the Tamil Nadu government in 2012 for its inadequate handling of resettling the Rohingya who were left to their own devices in finding accommodation in Chennai. “The state authorities have the duty to protect the human rights of the refugees and to provide shelter to them…the report, if true, raises a serious issue of violation of human rights,” the commission said.
The Rakhine state riots in 2012 spurred mass migration of Rohingya to other parts of south-east Asia, most notably, Malaysia and Indonesia, which are both constitutionally Muslim nations. It was in 2012 that the fulcrum of what passed off as social harmony behind the veneer of latent tension, tilted towards anarchy and rioting.
When they first arrived in Tamil Nadu in 2012, the refugees numbered 64, and belonged to 14 families. Rooms were leased out for them by the government in a privately owned building in Koman Nagar, in Thaiyur, where they found work as rag pickers or daily wage labourers. However, it was only later that their woes were compounded. Possessing an Aadhar card was made mandatory to seek employment, even in the unorganized sector and moreover, trouble was brewing between themselves and the locals who did not take kindly to people who they saw as outsiders.
On September 3, a contractor took them to Manali on work but when the local people raised objections to the mass influx of refugees,the police were forced to intervene. They were subsequently shifted to a place in Kovalam, on the East Coast Road (ECR). Most residents were reluctant to let out rooms to the refugees, and after surviving for a couple of days by braving the vagaries of nature in the open, the district administration was forced to intervene. Thereupon they were moved to the Community Centre in Kelambakkam, with the help of the UNHCR and district collector, V.K Shanmugam.
The ancient building, with its cream tinted walls, was coming apart at the seams. The paint was peeling off in patches, revealing the ashen coloured plaster that stood out like raw flesh from a wound that would never heal. The façade of the building bore the signboard of the United Nations, and opened into a dingy passage that led to the living quarters of those interred to life in exile.
The Rohingya are hard-working and one look at their temporary abode will make it evident that they tend to bring work home. In the midday heat, the building seems like a battleship moored in a sea of plastic. Sea faring cows aren’t a novelty here, and are the choice of steed among the younger generation.
After they were denied opportunities of formal employment, many in the camp have taken to rag-picking; scouring the streets in search of fortune among the city’s refuse.They get paid Rs. 200–250 for a day’s work, notwithstanding whatever little of any worth that can be salvaged from the mounds of plastic that line the stretch of road. Every hill has its king.
The number of the tribe has burgeoned since they landed in Kelambakkam four years back. There are now 121 Rohingya refugees as opposed to the 64 who originally migrated to India. The community centre could barely accommodate them all, and hence a few had to move out and stay in clumsily erected shacks in the immediately adjoining compound. The community centre, which is their official address, now houses 101 people while the rest have moved out.
The relative calm is a far cry from the situation back home. “In Burma, the government, the police, and the military get together and deign complete obedience. At times, even when we haven’t broken any rule, they torch our houses at night and rape our women,” said Ahmad Sheikh. Whatever the institution, if the uniform is starched with prejudice and hatred, there is little to differentiate one from the other, be it the camouflage worn by the army, or the saffron robes of the monastic order.
He went on to narrate how if the nikah of a Rohingya girl were to happen in Burma, the government would have to be paid a levy of 220000 kyat. In Tamil Nadu, they enjoy relatively greater security, and barring a few minor contretemps, lead a life far removed from the agonies of yesteryear.
When asked about why they had settled in Tamil Nadu and not in Bengal or Assam, Sheikh said, “The only problem is the language. About 20–30 lakh Rohingya Muslims were made to leave their homes. Today we are scattered all over the world. Some have even managed to get asylum in Canada. Others are in Malaysia, Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, and India. Within India, we had opted for places where we felt the people might be more welcoming. There are a substantial number of Rohingya refugees in Jammu and Kashmir, Hyderabad, Delhi and Bombay. We didn’t choose to come to Chennai. The dalal brought us here.”
However, he was quick to insist that they were grateful to the government for giving them asylum and not deporting them back to a certain death in Myanmar. Their major demand is that the authorities provide legally binding identification documents that would enable them to seek employment, and more importantly grant free movement permits that would enable them to move out of the jam-packed community hall.
They retire into a series of tiny rooms, which are in fact partitioned by cloth walls built out of faded old saris. Each family has a living space akin to a dovecote of roughly 50 square feet, which is cordoned off by the fluttering robes that once kissed the contours of the women of the household. Living in such close quarters, tempers are known to flare between neighbours over the quotidian. Yet, there are a few who take the maxim to love thy neighbour at face value.
During the entirety of our visit, one striking facet of refugee life that struck us was the complete absence of women from public spaces. The children gallivanted aimlessly, and the men had retreated back to the camp after the Sun made its steady ascent to the apogee, bearing down on man and beast alike with the fierce glow of the dying year.
Prof. V. Surya Narayan, who is the founding Director of the Centre for South and Southeast Asian Studies at the University of Madras believes that this phenomenon has its roots in Islamic law which is practiced assiduously within the Rohingya community. He had visited the camp in July this year with his colleague, Ms. Asma Masood, and according to him, the patriarchal system is a blowback of the selective interpretation of the Koran which is taught in madarasas.
“It takes a woman to talk to another woman about her problems. The women in the camp were reluctant to talk at first, but later warmed up to Asma after we had spent the day in their midst. The scarcity of private spaces often gets in the way of the refugees. Within the milling crowd, it is difficult to conceal anything from the casual onlooker, let alone the prying eye. They usually have sex on the terrace, but at times, it is difficult to have a private moment, even for a fleeting instant in time. Sometimes, the children, who often venture on to the roof at night,are exposed to sights and sounds that are well beyond their years,” said Surya Narayan. Menstruating women also face a tough ask. Sanitation facilities within the building were also found to be wanting.
There are two bathrooms inside the building, and one which had fallen into desuetude before the arrival of the Rohingya continues to be in a state of disrepair. Every morning a queue of four to five people is a constant outside the communal toilet and scuffles often break out while waiting to answer the call of nature. Even in the rag-picking business there are beats and one has to be on the dot to salvage whatever of considerable value can be mined from the piles of refuse before their counterparts hired by the government go on their daily rounds.
“Back home, even if we had educational qualifications, we would be denied jobs. In India, all government employees are treated the same way, whether they are Hindu or Muslim. In Burma, only Buddhist raj prevails,” lamented Mohammed Abdur Shukur, a man in the prime of his life.
He went on to say that the police who are entrusted with maintaining law and order are the very ones who break the law under the cover of darkness. They set fire to homes and kill our children at night. Many young boys and girls have gone missing without a trace. Every morning, at least one member from each household has to report to the police station. Failure to comply with this diktat meant the entire family would be rounded up and beaten.
“Even if you were found to be in possession of a button walah phone, not even a modern touch phone, your hands would be chopped off and you’d be put in jail,” said Mohammed Yusuf, whose sister Minara Begum is currently imprisoned in Myanmar since a mobile phone was found on her. He used to stay in touch with her over the phone before misfortune struck. In addition to prison, she was slapped a fine of 4 lakh kyat.
Minara Begum has four children, who have been taken in by their grandparents since their father had migrated to Malaysia in search of work and they were expected to join him after the family had managed to save enough for the journey.
“In India, there are no restrictions on communicating with those back in Burma or anywhere else in the world. We have to register ourselves with the nearest police station in the district where our photos are taken for identification. The government has left us to fend for ourselves but it is impossible to get meaningful employment without an Aadhar card,” he added.
After the muezzin’s call for afternoon prayers receded, an army of children marched into the compound in school uniform. Mohammad Yusuf has four children of his own and the joy on his face is unrestrained as the eldest came home with a slate in her hand. “Two of my children were born in India: one in Jammu, and the other, here in Chennai. It is better that they study in India because in Burma we have no future. Whether we are allowed to stay on is something that is not in our hands,” he said with the poignancy of someone to whom fate has been unkind.
However, persecution is something that they left behind with them. In Burma, if one were to venture outside after 9 pm, the nocturnal stroll would be likely to end in arrest. The mosquitoes inside lock-up are very big, said a chorus of voices from the crowd, with one even making a giant ball out of his fist. Sleeping with elephantine mosquitoes is likely to make one feverish.
The Indian mosquito, in comparison has a more slender build, but its bite is equally potent. Three dengue cases were registered within the camp in the past six months. Although there is a government hospital right across the road which provides treatment free of cost, the patients had to be shifted to a bigger hospital in Kancheepuram district. Access to healthcare facilities for Rohingya families in Myanmar is unheard of. Most hospitals and dispensaries are owned by Buddhists, and it is unrealistic to expect the oppressor to wield a machete in one hand and gauze on the other.
“We had a car in Burma but nothing is left of it. They (Buddhists) killed my father and torched the car,” said Mohammad Shafiq, 21. He had aspirations of becoming a cab driver in India, but all hopes have been dashed by their inability to procure Aadhar cards from the government. The government’s decision to grant refugee status to Rohingya is in keeping with United Nations Convention on Refugees, but not all asylum seekers are equally fortunate, with some being arrested for crossing over illegally without the requisite documents.
Dil Mohammad’s wife has been lodged in a Calcutta jail for the past three years.So the onus of bringing up his six children falls solely on his broad shoulders. Four of the six are of school going age, and life as a single parent can be tough. He rises early and sends the children to the madarasa within the camp where they are taught Arabic from five to eight in the morning.
He whips up a slapdash breakfast from whatever remains from the previous day’s dinner and packs them off to the nearest government school, which is a couple of kilometres from the community centre. The school provides mid-day meals to all pupils which is an added incentive for parents to send their children to school. On weekends, all the children from the camp attend the madarasa in Pallavaram for ‘spiritual education’.
Mohammad Abdur Shakur believes that the new wave of nationalistic sentiment that has swept Myanmar after Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) came to power is a false dawn, and that the Nobel laureate is a status quo-ist who has turned a blind eye to the plight of Rohingya Muslims in the past. The young maulana from Maungdaw who teaches the children Arabic and leads the prayers in camp went on to add that communal discord would be exacerbated under the new regime, since behind the mask of a global celebrity, Suu Kyi is a Buddhist sympathizer and a xenophobic since her family was complicit in the acts of communal violence since the time of her father Aung San, who is regarded as the father of the nation.
“If we had gone to Assam, we would still have been prosecuted since we didn’t have the necessary travel documents, and furthermore it would be established that we are Burmese Muslims. There is a constituency in Assam that don’t want us around,” said Dil Mohammad, referring to the anti-immigrant propaganda of the Asom Gana Parishad (AGP) and the Bharatiya Janta Party (BJP).
However, the Rohingyas’ flight from Myanmar isn’t a sob story with no patch of sunshine to drive away the clouds of gloom. The efforts of the United Nations in fostering a spirit of unity have lightened the mood considerably. The UNHCR instituted a football club for them at their previous camp in Jammu and provided them with full-fledged kits and open spaces for them to fine tune their footballing prowess.
Even after they had moved to Delhi, the Shining Rohingya Youth Club did not get relegated to the realm of memory, but shifted its home ground to the plains of North India.“Our team from Jammu traveled all the way to Delhi to play a match against African refugees. In fact, Sri Lankan Tamils who had been granted refugee status also took part in the Refugee World Cup organized by the UN,” said Feroze Khan, a member of the triumphant class of 2013.
“I can play anywhere, in attack or in defence,” he added with clouded eyes while reminiscing his playing days which were cut short after moving to Chennai. However, he is hopeful that the Shining Rohingya Youth Club would be able to train again. The group has handed over a letter to the district administration requesting access to a nearby sporting facility during the weekends. A reply, though has not been forthcoming. Johann’s Cryuff’s tactical theory of total football is still alive, albeit in spirit, in the backyard of the community centre in Kelambakkam.
As Khan rummaged uncertainly through the metallic chest which contained all his worldly possessions, he was subconsciously fearful of the it having swallowed up one of his most valued belongings to satiate its hunger: the football jersey that he had worn at the tournament organized by the UN. Some wounds are fresher than others. “I don’t take it out much since it reminds me of my carefree days,” he said, with the meditative air of monk. Do memories rust?
Battering an emaciated wall at the back of the community centre, with a football he had inflated using a cycle pump, Feroze Khan wears the expression of somebody half his age, somebody who hadn’t traveled across the high seas to flee from the death and destruction wrought upon his community by an imagined homeland that had forsaken its children.
As the ball bounced irregularly in front of him, he was blinded for a split second by the sharp glare of the afternoon Sun. The sensation of fear and surprise moved like a ripple through his lanky frame, and at that moment he beheld the image of death which he had tried to bury in the deepest recess of his memory. It lasted only for a brief interlude and passed over him like the shadow of a bird in flight.
