A group of men from Pu Lu Palaw village cross the Moei River back into Myanmar, on the border with Thailand. Credit: Kate Geraghty
Ayoung woman crouches by a gap in the bamboo fence of Thailand’s biggest refugee camp, her head askew, eyes peering through barbed-wire strands at the sparse oncoming traffic.
She is anticipating a taxi – a family member has a doctor’s appointment in the nearest Thai town. When the car pulls up, they will need to move fast, as they do not want the attention of the guards.
The young woman keeps watch for her ride. When it comes, her family will scamble through the small gap in the ramshackle perimeter fence. Credit: Kate Geraghty
Almost 40,000 people live in the Mae La camp, a crowded jumble of tin and timber homes and rambling tracks, close to the border with Myanmar. The occupants are mostly Karen, an ethnic group from south-eastern Myanmar.
No one is allowed to leave without special short-term permission, unless to return to the homelands they have fled over decades of civil war.
Even trips to the doctor must be discreet.
Some of the houses in Mae La camp in Thailand. It is home to approximately 40,000 refugees from Myanmar.Credit: Kate Geraghty
Mae La is the largest of nine camps on the Thai side of the border. Many residents, longing for third-country resettlement and peace, have known no other life.
The latest iteration of Myanmar’s civil war, brought on by the 2021 military coup that removed the democratically elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi, has added 20,000 people to the camps, pushing the combined population above 100,000.
School children in traditional Karen clothing in Mae La camp. They are not allowed to leave to attend formal education in Thailand. Credit: Kate Geraghty
“But there is no more space, so we cannot build new houses,” Karen Refugee Committee secretary Saw Bweh Say says. The committee has been operating along the Thai-Myanmar border for more than 40 years.
In addition to increased population pressure, US President Donald Trump’s order to freeze foreign aid has crippled the capacity of at least one major non-government organisation to deliver healthcare, water and sanitation.
Another major non-government organisation, The Border Consortium, said on Friday (World Refugee Day) it had been forced to reduce rations to “well below international standards”, though it did not cite the Trump administration as the cause.
Secretary of the Karen Refugee Committee Saw Bweh Say. Credit: Kate Geraghty
While some people get help from relatives overseas and a small number slip out to work illegally, about 80 per cent depend on NGOs for their everyday needs, the secretary says.
Thailand is not a party to the 1951 Refugee Convention, meaning the camp populations are not recognised as such, and are restricted in their movements and activities.
“Life in a refugee camp is you cannot work and you cannot do anything with your daily life,” 70-year-old Mae La resident Naw Mu says.
Myanmar refugee Naw Nu in her home of 30 years in Mae La camp. Credit: Kate Geraghty
“When USAID was suspended, we faced a food shortage – they reduced the monthly food ration – and we don’t get enough water.
“On the other hand, when you look at the Burma [Myanmar] situation, there is no peace. People face difficulties every day. They cannot live in their villages.”
Naw Shee Eh Plo, the eldest daughter of Karen revolutionaries, came to Mae La in 1997 because it was unsafe at home.
Health and education co-ordinator Naw Shee Eh Plo.Credit: Kate Geraghty
“If we cannot go back to Burma or another country, then I prefer to stay here,” she says. “I don’t have hope for peace in Burma.”
Saw Bweh Say, the Karen committee secretary, hopes Thailand will change its position on recognising refugees, allowing adults to work and children to attend formal education.
A group of men from Pu Lu Palaw village in Myanmar travel along a rural road in the Thai borderlands.Credit: Kate Geraghty
Still, he is grateful. For 50 years, the Thai government and people have allowed the Karen refugees a safe haven.
For those still in the Karen lands of Myanmar, life can be upended – and ended – at any moment by military air raids and drone attacks.
This masthead met a group of internally displaced people in the Thai town of Noh Bo, about 50 kilometres north of the Mae La camp.
23-year-old Saw Mayo Zar Ni, a labourer from Pu Lu Palaw village in Myanmar.Credit: Kate Geraghty
Saw Hser Khu, 39, was a fisherman until he fled to Pu Lu Palaw village. Now he has little work. Credit: Kate Geraghty
The men had crossed the shallow Moei River border that morning – not because of an immediate threat, but because they wanted Australians to be aware of what is happening to them and their country.
The Myanmar civil war, though unfolding in Australia’s region, is overshadowed by the conflicts in Gaza and Ukraine, and now Iran. But it is no less barbarous, claiming about 50,000 lives, including 6000 civilians, since February 2021.
About 20 million people – more than a third of Myanmar’s population – need humanitarian assistance and 3.5 million people are internally displaced. These young men are among these numbers.
From left: Saw Stay Par, Htoo Htoo, Saw Heh Klee Moo, Saw Hay Moo, Saw Tha Bo Htoo, Saw Sat Ma Set Tay, Vethala and Ko Jesko Jes from Pu Lu Palaw village in Myanmar. Credit: Kate Geraghty
On February 27, the State Administration Council, as the military regime is called, bombed positions of the Karen National Liberation Army, one of Myanmar’s many ethnic resistance forces.
The fighting was almost at the village of Pu Lu Palaw, forcing the civilians to wade over the river to the safety of Noh Bo, aided by Thai military border patrol teams.
A woman and children bathe on the Thai side of the Moei River border.Credit: Kate Geraghty
“We could not even bring anything with us,” Saw Hser Khu, a weathered 39-year-old former fisherman, says.
Hundreds crammed inside the Noh Bo church. Hundreds more slept where they could outside.
A woman stands at her shop in Thailand, just over the river from Myanmar. Credit: Kate Geraghty
When things calmed down, they crossed back to Myanmar, but Pu Lu Palaw was still not safe.
“Mostly, people now sleep by riverbank, but those who are quick, they stay in their homes,” Saw Hser Khu says with a grin, only half-joking.
In the late afternoon a woman and child arrive on the banks of the Moei River in Thailand after crossing the river near Pu Lu Palaw village in Myanmar.Credit: Kate Geraghty
Some have family on the Thailand side, and this masthead witnessed several family groups crossing the river with sacks of rice and whatever else they could carry above the waist-high waterline.
Military planes are a regular sight and sound above the hazy mountains.
A military observation post in Thailand overlooking the hills and mountains in Myanmar.Credit: Kate Geraghty
“If the [regime] see a lot of people in the village, they will bomb,” Saw Hser Khu says. “We were lucky that we were already in hiding.”
Almost all the group living in Pu Lu Palaw has fled there from elsewhere in Myanmar because of the fighting. Now, they are displaced again.
Carrying supplies, a couple from Myanmar walk along a track towards the Moei River border and home. Credit: Kate Geraghty
As there is almost no work, the villagers on the riverbank rely on charity and NGOs for most of their needs.
Those with a little bit of money sometimes cross into Noh Bo to buy rice and supplies. Those without often go hungry, the men say.
A group of men from Pu Lu Palaw village in Myanmar walk down to the bank of the Moei River on the Thai side of the border.Credit: Kate Geraghty
At the end of the day, it is time for the villagers to leave Noh Bo and return to the Myanmar riverbank.
This masthead follows them down the steep track, past the Thai military observation post. They pause on the way to point out an abandoned regime military base, shrouded by trees at the tip of a Myanmar mountain.
At the river, we exchange thank yous and farewells. Then, they pull up their shorts and pants legs, and wade back to broken Myanmar.
The group this masthead met in Thailand wade back to Myanmar. Credit: Kate Geraghty
Saw Stay Par, 34, turns back to wave goodbye.Credit: Kate Geraghty
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