Crimes Without Justice: A New Generation of Rohingya Displacement
- Ahtaram Shin
- Oct 1
- 5 min read
Words and photos by Ayub Khan DLK
Edited by Ahtaram Shin
Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh — On 5 August 2024, 30-year-old Setera Begum, a mother of six from Foyazipara village (ward 2), lost everything in an instant. Her husband, Osman, 45, an ordinary daily wage worker, was killed in a drone attack carried out by the Arakan Army (AA) Mogh Bagi on Foyazipara seashore in Maungdaw township, northern Arakan State (Rakhine), Myanmar.
That evening, hundreds of Rohingya men, women, and children had gathered near the Naf-River, desperate to cross into Bangladesh as fighting between the Myanmar Junta and AA Mogh Bagi intensified but their target was towards the Rohingya civilians.
“We were waiting for boats on the seashore when the drones came, Rohingya people were shouting, crying, running everywhere. My husband was hit. He could not survive,” Setera shared, her voice breaking.
Witnessing my husband die as his body was pierced apart was the most painful and lifelong trauma for our entire family. It was the darkest and most painful moment of my life, she added.
More than 200 Rohingya civilians were killed that day and countless people got injured where there was no hospital or mobile clinic or pharmacy for a pain killer medicine. Survivors say bodies were collected like “industrial goods,” loaded onto vehicles by devastated relatives. Osman’s mangled body was recovered the next day by his 12-year-old son, Kamal Hossain, and other relatives. His limbs had been torn apart.
For Setera, the nightmare did not end with her husband’s death. She and her six children fled the shoreline, taking temporary refuge in Award-2, Maungdaw.
“We stayed there for five days without proper clothes, food, shelter and water, but when the AA Mogh Bagi entered in the villages, they ordered us to leave immediately,” she says.
From there, the family moved to Natirdil village in Maungdaw, where a new danger awaited. It is a red zone of landmines. “One man lost a leg and a hand when just trying to go to the latrine,” Setera stated. Soon after, they were forced into the Hlapu Gaung IDP camp in Zin Paing Nyar village, Maungdaw Township.
But the conditions inside the IDP camp were unbearable. “There was no food, no medicine, not even enough drinking water. We survived seven days like that,” she says.
Determined to escape, the family eventually made their way to Dargapara village, where they managed to secure a boat after surrendering what little they had left: money and gold.
On 19 August 2024, they set out across the Naf-River, hoping for safety in Bangladesh. But their journey stalled on Laldiya island, where they were stranded for two days.
“The children were starving on the muddy bushes. The elderly were falling down and trembling like a wet bird. We thought we would die there,” says Setera.
Finally, on 21 August 2024, she and her six children reached the refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. But safety did not bring peace. The children were weak and sick. As newly arrived, undocumented refugees, the family was initially denied medical treatment at NGO-run clinics.
“We were told we could not receive healthcare because we were new,” she says. Only later did aid agencies allow them limited access to basic services in the refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar.
Now, Setera and her children live in a flimsy shelter inside the camp. Without basic needs such as the LPG gas cylinder, nutrition, hygiene kits. Her children collect firewood and plastic waste for cooking instead of going to school. Nowadays school is also closed.
“My children cry for their father. Sometimes they ask me, ‘Where is Dad, Mom?’ I have no answer,” she says in tears.
This story is not an isolated tragedy but part of a broader pattern of oppression against the Rohingya people. Just weeks before the Foyazipara drone attack, the AA was accused of carrying out mass killings and arson in Buthidaung Township.
On 17–18 May 2024, entire Rohingya neighbourhoods in Buthidaung town were burned to the ground, displacing tens of thousands. According to Human Rights Watch, satellite imagery and survivor testimonies confirm that the destruction was deliberate and targeted. In nearby villages such as Htan Shauk Kan (Hoya Suri), witnesses reported that more than 600 Rohingya civilians — including women, children, and the elderly — were massacred, their bodies burned with gasoline to erase the evidence (Times of Journal).
Reuters also documented how Rohingya civilians in Buthidaung were first terrorised by the Myanmar military and later targeted by AA arson attacks that destroyed schools, homes, and even the hospital.
These atrocities, from Buthidaung to Foyazipara, reveal a systematic campaign to terrorize, kill, and displace the Rohingya. For survivors like Setera, who now struggles in exile with her six children, the wounds are both personal and collective.
For Setera, survival has entered a new chapter. The war in Arakan State forced her across the river into exile, but now she faces another battle to give her children a safe and dignified future.
“What happened to us is not only my pain, it is the pain of my people,” she says firmly. “My husband and hundreds of others were killed for nothing. We want justice. We want the world to hold those responsible accountable. If there is no justice, our suffering will never end.”
The drone attack at Foyazipara seashore, the massacres in Buthidaung, and the ongoing persecution of the Rohingya are not accidents of war, they are crimes against humanity.
Unless the international community demands accountability, the perpetrators will continue with impunity, and the Rohingya will continue to pay the price.
