Myanmar: Restoring hope to families of the missing

I started my assignment on Myanmar in April 2023, and since arriving Yangon in May 2023, I was fortunate in the months that followed to visit other states and regions where we had offices and activities; Nay Pyi Taw, Mandalay, Lashio, Myitikyina and Sittwe. 

At the time I wrote this piece, it was just shy of two years since I arrived Myanmar and reflecting on my time there, there was a lot to say, as my mission was anything but straight forward. 

In 2021, a military coup happened and was widely covered. This coup has had far reaching consequences on the humanitarian landscape in Myanmar; limited access, a shrinking humanitarian space and uncertainty with operations given the security constraints.

With the intensification of the conflict in Myanmar since late 2023 and the resulting humanitarian consequences, many families lost contact with a loved one. Protection of Family Links (PFL) is a part of the Protection work we do at the ICRC. The goal is to provide answers to family members separated from their loved ones due to conflict, detention, migration or natural disasters. When we are able, we reunite families with missing loves ones, especially children. The part of reunification is always a joy to behold and to be part of.

Security considerations have changed drastically and visits to our offices are not as easy as they once were. It took me over a year to make it to Rakhine state for example, located in West Myanmar, where we have the biggest caseload for the programmes I oversee. As the plane landed on the wet runway during the cyclone season, finally! I thought to myself - I made it to Sittwe, this part of the country I had been trying to get to for over a year.

Slowly Making My Way Around Myanmar

I moved to Yangon, Myanmar, in May 2023. The Golden Land as it is called, is a country like no other, peculiar in many ways. I've heard some people still refer to the country as Burma which is the former name, but the name was changed to Myanmar in 1989. The people however, are still referred to as Burmese. 

One thing that stands out is how Burmese people are polite, they would not openly get annoyed as it is does not reflect well to openly express anger or irritation. Even when people struggle with something, you'll hardly get an outright NO. Losing face is something people would not do, so they might say okay or beat around the bush. In all that, you are 'not allowed' to lose your cool as it is not taken well :-) If you put too much pressure, they could shut you out. And you'd never hear a thing even if it were killing them. However, they are always eager to help when they can, which I think is sweet.

My arrival was anything but pleasant because of my nationality. I was treated shabbily and told clearly that it was because of my nationality, but I'll save that story for another day!

In speaking with people, I noticed not many people know of this country or where in Asia it is located. So I've put a map below for reference - see the red arrow? The flag is also beneath the map.

Flag below

A Summary of my Time in the Democratic Republic of Congo

Article written in French below....Ecrit en français ci-dessous après la version anglaise

Some words that describe the Democratic Republic of Congo for me are: chaotic, colourful, disorderly, vibrant and joie de vivre. Music would wake you up from early hours of the morning and accompany you through the day; be it gospel music or party tunes. And should you ever try to ‘bother’ a person about noise or order, you’d get the retort of “we are in Congo”.

Meeting the Democratic Republic of Congo

I got to the airport early to avoid the rush. As I finally settled at the gate that was displayed on the screen, I got busy, killing time. At some point, it didn't seem right. The people at this gate all seemed too calm and quiet. I had 30 minutes before boarding time and decided to check again. I decided not to rely on the information on the screen and asked an airport staff. I was told that I was indeed at the wrong gate.

I rushed to find the right gate and as I approached, I knew these were the people I was looking for! Congolese people are vibrant, kind of like my fellow Nigerians. There were people speaking loudly, some overly dressed, which the Congolese are known for and of course they were disorderly. People had started lining up to make their way to the plane. The flight was smooth, then when the plane touched down, on cue, people started clapping. I did not understand how I felt, but I was actually shocked that so many people were clapping in sync. 

Reflections on my time in Central African Republic

When I accepted a posting to Central African Republic (CAR) in 2018, a friend asked what I had done wrong to be sent here. From what I had heard, the road ahead seemed like it would be a long one.

I worked in Bertoua in the East of Cameroon in 2016, with refugees from CAR. At the time, I made a mental note not to accept a posting here, were it ever to be an option, because of the horror stories I heard.

I had no expectations whatsoever, the predominant feeling was uncertainty. These are my last days here and I am uncertain how I managed to last for 21 months! It has been quite the roller coaster and those curves have been just like the sharp twists and turns of an actual roller coaster.

Central African Republic celebrated its' 60th year of independence on August 13th 2020 which got me reflecting. To give a back ground to things, in 2013, a mostly Muslim coalition violently ousted the government. Some months later, a Christian militia sprung up to resist the Muslim group. It went further as the Christian group carried out attacks around the West of the country against Muslim communities. This degenerated and clashes between groups and against civilians continues to raise concerns. About 80% of the country is controlled by armed groups and attacks against civilians are still recurrent. 

A peace agreement was signed in 2019 between the government and 14 armed groups, but the road to implementing and respecting this agreement is a long one.

Fighting Sexual Violence is Our Collective Responsibility

Before asking, he warned me by saying I have something to ask and I hope it won't offend you. I told him to go ahead. Then he asked me if he could take me in his arms (direct translation). I immediately said no and moved on to talking about something else. We were watching a programme on TV and the question came out of nowhere. This conversation all happened in French and French can seem unnecessarily intimate sometimes. We lived together, he was one of my flat mates. I reckoned he just wanted a hug but the way he asked, it came off as a bit creepy to me. Sometimes, you click with people and feel comfortable enough to hug each other, it never crossed my mind to hug this colleague.

One day, like every other time, I took a walk with another colleague, which was a normal thing. This one was my buddy, we got along very well. He was one of the ones I was comfortable with and would hug every now and then in greeting. He was quite excited on this day and was chatting away. When we got to the spot we wanted to reach, the view was beautiful. I stood admiring it then I felt someone hugging me from behind. It could only have been him as the other people around were not close enough. I was slightly confused as I stood there. Someone hugging me from behind suggests a few things to me. Unsure of what may have followed, I broke the contact by suggesting that we take a selfie. It worked. Afterwards, he posed for me to take photos of him, and in that moment, I said a silent prayer to God...'please let there be nothing more, let it be that his excitement got him carried away'. As we walked back, we talked as usual but before we could go far, he apologised. He said he was sorry if his action made me uncomfortable. I was relieved and said it was ok especially as I didn't want to walk back with in awkward silence. Then I chided myself for not saying 'if it happens again, that's when we would have a problem'. But I think he was smart enough to know that. 

Anyway...

I have no need to care about how I look; how rough my cornrows are, or how oily my face is. There are no mirrors here anyway.

I should not be bothered much about the unsanitary conditions in which I have to live in certain villages, how I dread going around toilets or bathrooms. Who cares about cleanliness anyway.

I am probably worrying too much about a balanced diet looking for fruits and vegetables, when the only thing I find to eat here is meat and carbs. How many can afford to eat anyway.

La belle époque

Each time we drive past, children run up to wave at the car, something they take pride in doing. Many of them don't expect a wave in return, so I see how their faces light up when I wave back. Some of them squeal and jump with excitement while others stand paralysed with shock from the returned wave. Children are so adorable and have the purest of hearts.

Straw roofs held up by sticks as make shift classrooms and schools, children walk the distance to get there with their chalk boards as proof of learning. Dirt roads, narrow paths, vast land. Motorbikes ply the routes mostly, as well as bicycles. The few private cars give a new perspective of how much weight a car can possibly carry.

In search of mangoes

I love mangoes, so naturally, I was pleased to see lots of them in Bangui when I arrived. They were also quite cheap. I had mangoes almost everyday for the few days I was in Bangui before my move to Bouar.
Since I got to Bouar, I haven't eaten mangoes to my satisfaction because I tried a few and they were not so great.
Growing up, we had about 5 mango trees around the house which produced different kinds of mangoes, two produced the same kind. Our neighbours had different ones which we gladly shared and there were names for all of them.

First impressions of Central African Republic

I didn't know what to expect but I remember that once upon a time I had told myself that if I were to be asked to work in this country, I would politely turn it down. I had heard such horror stories from refugees in 2016 while I worked in Cameroon, who lived through the worst things. At the time, I was offered a job in Bamabari (one of the hot spots in C.A.R) and I turned it down. I worked in a town called Bertoua close to the border of C.A.R so I worked with refugees from here.You can read about my time out there from this link

3 years later I found myself on my way to C.A.R despite my once upon a time resolve. A few people have asked me where the country is so this map should give an idea. You can also see where Bouar is on the map.

I expected to be in the capital but was told last minute at HQ that that would not be the case. I was already on my way! I had tried to prepare myself but after that news, I was quite disoriented.

On arrival in Bangui, I was smashed after such a long trip. I flew to Geneva from Abuja on Sunday through Istanbul. By Tuesday I was on my way to Bangui via Amsterdam and Nairobi. When I landed on Wednesday morning, all I wanted was a bed to sleep in.

Riding with volunteers in Tanzania

For the past year, I have lived in Kibondo in Western Tanzania, where I worked closely with the Tanzanian Red Cross. I'm describing one of many days working with the Red Cross volunteers in one of the three refugee camps, Nduta refugee camp, which is home to nearly 100,000 people...  

I wake up to crows making loud caws and take a look at the time. It's 7am already and the day awaits.

I get ready and off we go to Nduta camp, the camp is about 36.2 sq km
There are close to 300,000 refugees in the three camps in Tanzania. Although there is no conflict, the country has become a safe haven for people from nearby countries ridden with different forms of conflict.

Bumping and jostling in the car with every movement, the dust is all I see ahead of me as there is no tarmac. We arrive at Nduta just in time to catch the morning meeting. Right after the meeting, on cue, bicycles are rolled out. This is the daily routine. The volunteers ride the rocky paths of the camps to deliver family news to their fellow refugees. For some refugees, this is the only way to get any assurance of their family member's well being. They cherish these moments. Sitting at different call centres where we provide free phone calls to the refugees, I smile all the time till my face hurts. I see the way their faces light up when they hear a loved one's voice and it warms my heart.

Bumpiness all the way with this trip continued...

If you missed the first part, please read it here 

This was what the room looked like. I find the best in every situation, so here, there was clean water. It wasn’t brown but clear and that was amazing to me, given the circumstances. There was no phone network in the two villages where we would be working, but there was constant light. I hardly used it but it was comforting to know. 

The room consisted of a bed, a table and a chair

Bumpiness all the way with this trip

If you missed this post From One Place to Another, please follow the link as that will help to put things in context :-)

 We set out as early as 7am, we were going for a week. It was a rainy day and as we drove out of Bertoua, I was told that we would be driving on dirt/untarred roads for the rest of the trip. We finally took the turn that led onto the dirt road and gosh, nothing could have prepared me for that level of bumpiness. We drove through mud and deep pot holes, I gained a lot more respect for people who have jobs as drivers. The dexterity with which the car was handled, I would have come nothing close to it. I counted the hours, I tried to get my mind to wander but it just wouldn’t, every part of me was involved in the bumpy ride. My insides were turned over and over again, my body rocked back and forth violently as the road determined. We had a loo break in between and I jumped out of the car just not to feel constricted by it because I didn’t like the car very much at that point. See some photos which I managed to get when it wasn't so bumpy of the road below: