The whole day we sat waiting for help. Since morning it had been raining nonstop. Both I and my eleven month old son, Anis, were soaked and he shook from the cold. Everyday I came and sat with my little son by the roadside. Sometimes people would stop in their cars and offer food or money. Food and money meant we would survive another week.
Myanmar soldiers had pulled my husband by the hair. He held tight to their feet, pleading for forgiveness. But they killed him, and then set his body aflame in front of us.
I hid myself and my boy in the chicken pen. From there, I watched the soldiers cut my husband’s throat with a knife. I held tight to my child’s eyes so he couldn’t see. I can’t remember when I fainted. When I awoke, everything was burned to ashes.
Early next morning we managed to escape with others from the village. It took four days to reach the border of Bangladesh. I carried my son on my back. We walked without food. It was painful to carry him without having food or water. Sometimes we drank from ponds and the streams. We ate leaves from the trees. We slept under the open sky. It rained constantly and it was difficult walking without shoes.
When we reached the river, I gave my gold earrings and chain to the boatman. It took two days and nights to reach the other side. It was rainy and cold at night. We were 25 people in our boat and we held onto each other for protection. There was nothing to eat and the water was rough. My son’s face was pale and horrified! He was holding me tightly all the time. I thought I could not save my son, just as I was not able to save my husband. We felt we were dying that might! _Fatema 19
(Collected from GMB Akash’s Facebook page)