Myanmar-India border residents trapped between two wars

0
278

Zomawi sells essentials along a road to India’s Manipur, after fleeing her village in Myanmar amid the country’s civil war.

MOREH, India — Zomawi, who hails from a Myanmar Mizo village just a few kilometers from the Indian border, says she fled in December when her village was burned down. Now the mother of two is one of the many huddled along the border seeking refuge from Myanmar’s raging civil war.

To make ends meet, she sells essentials along a road to India. From her ramshackle shop, she can see a new boundary trench dug by the Indian government. The trench winds along the periphery of the border and is a reminder of how the area’s residents are caught between two wars.

Myanmar, under military rule since the elected government was ousted in 2021, has seen an intensifying resistance offensive. The regime stands accused of responding by bombarding villages in the strongholds of pro-democratic forces and has introduced sweeping conscription rules that have sown more panic.

Meanwhile, the northeastern Indian state of Manipur has suffered its own ethnic war since May 2023, pitting the dominant valley-based Meitei community against the Kuki-Zo hill tribes. The state government, which is controlled predominantly by Meitei legislators, has been blamed for playing a partisan role, resulting in Kukis who were in the valley fleeing to the hills and Meiteis running the other way. The two regions are now separated by buffer zones patrolled by military forces.

The dual conflicts have created a humanitarian crisis in which conspiracy theories and misinformation fuel tensions and many people have nowhere to go.

A trench winds along the India-Myanmar border, as India moves to stop free movement across the boundary. 

A new complication emerged in late January with the rise of a Meitei militia called the Arambai Tenggol in Manipur’s capital of Imphal, 110 kilometers from the border. On Jan. 24, members of the group came out in large numbers, dressed in camouflage and brandishing arms. They demanded that Manipur’s chief minister — N. Biren Singh of Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party — agree to conditions that included fencing the border.

The capital is now essentially a stronghold of the Arambai Tenggol, which has connections with BJP leaders including Singh himself and the titular king of Imphal, BJP parliamentarian Leishemba Sanajaoba.

Within days of the militia issuing its ultimatum, Indian Home Minister Amit Shah announced the end of the Free Movement Regime — a rule that allowed people living within 16 km of either side of the Myanmar border to move freely without visas. Shah said in a statement that the decision was made to “ensure the internal security of the country and to maintain the demographic structure of India’s northeastern states bordering Myanmar.”

The entire border, stretching 1,643 kilometers across four Indian states, is to be fenced — a pledge that many see as a political gimmick ahead of India’s general elections in April and May, since thick forests make much of the border impenetrable.

Myanmar’s spiraling war has raised concerns about refugees and instability not just in India but also other countries that border it, including Bangladesh, Thailand and China.

For many of those near the border with Manipur, shared ethnic ties with the Kuki-Zo mean they naturally turn that way for a safe haven. But this also fuels suspicion: Meitei leaders allege that Kukis are drawing support from Kuki-Zo-Chin pro-democratic forces in Myanmar. Likewise, Kukis allege that Meitei militants took refuge under Myanmar’s military regime and are now resurfacing in Manipur.

Some in the Meitei community say refugees from Myanmar have flooded Manipur, altering the demography of the state — alluded to in Shah’s statement. But most refugees who have crossed from Myanmar are living hand to mouth in barely inhabitable settlements.

In one, more than 50 women wait with their children in desperation, after their husbands were arrested by the Manipur Police back in January 2023. One of the women, 61-year-old Hoikholam Baite, said the women live in fear of being arrested themselves and scurry into the jungle whenever vehicles that look like police jeeps approach. The refugees are largely unaware of the Indian government’s decision to end free movement.

But among the indigenous tribes living along the Indian side of the border, opposition to ending free movement is widespread. With roots dating back long before modern countries took shape, these communities share ethnic connections, customs and traditions that transcend national borders.

“How many times are the rights of tribal people of the northeast going to be trampled like this?” Khekiye K. Sema, a retired Indian bureaucrat belonging to a Naga tribe, said at a meeting arranged by various indigenous organizations across northeastern India, opposing the decision to halt free movement. “India is treating us worse than second-class citizens.”

The border town of Moreh encapsulates the shift from open borders to tight control.

In October, a senior Meitei police officer was shot dead in Moreh by suspected Kuki insurgents. This led to more Meitei police officers being stationed in a predominantly Kuki district, fanning violence. The officers have been accused of indulging in arson and physical assaults, while an apparent Kuki ambush killed two more Meitei officers.

Moreh was once a bustling town and center of commerce frequented by Indians and Burmese alike, thanks to a bilateral friendship agreement and the Free Movement Regime. Now wars on both sides of the border and internal strife have turned it into a virtual ghost town.

A makeshift barricade blocks the entrance to a Kuki neighborhood in the town of Moreh, near India’s border with Myanmar. 

Armed personnel are spread out across town, and most streets where Kukis live have been barricaded by residents, fearing excesses by Meitei commandos. Schools remain closed after students fled in November. A curfew is relaxed for only a few hours a day.

Especially troubling is a lack of medical care for Moreh’s nearly 20,000 residents, along with dozens of nearby villages.

Chongneo Haokip has been holding the fort as head nurse of the only medical facility in Moreh since May 2023. “There was a time when there were no doctors. Five of us nurses kept this place running,” she said, recalling the initial months of Manipur’s war. Beyond shortages of staff and supplies, she said armed personnel have barged in, suspecting that the clinic was harboring militants.

“Everybody is equal to us, we will treat them all fairly, be it Meitei or Kuki. But this is a hospital. How can they enter with weapons?” Haokip said.

Most pregnant Kuki women are told to travel out of town for delivery. As Kukis can no longer go to Imphal, home to the state’s best medical facilities, that means braving a rough eight-hour drive to Churachandpur in the hills.

Moinu Singson is the only remaining auxiliary nurse and midwife in Moreh who can immunize newborns and provide supplements to pregnant and lactating women. Since the war broke out in Manipur last May, she has been working against all odds to vaccinate babies. She has managed to get 415 on her roster, often buying supplies like syringes with her own money. She has also immunized 82 infants from Myanmar.

“With the end of [free movement], I am not sure we can do this anymore,” Singson said.

Source : Nikkei Asia  

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here