The body of Thoo Rey lies under a survival blanket in a field hospital, a few kilometers from Demoso, a town in Kayah (Karenni) State, in eastern Myanmar. Two hours earlier, while returning to his abandoned village to collect personal effects, the 24-year-old was hit in the neck by the shrapnel of a shell launched a few kilometers away by the Burmese army. .
His name is added to the list of nearly 2,900 civilian victims killed – according to the UN – by the Burmese army since the military coup of February 1, 2021. War is omnipresent on this vast plateau of rice fields and of fields surrounded by limestone massifs. Kayah State, to the east, is one of the most active centers of armed resistance. On a path, punctuated by checkpoints manned by fighters, we come across pick-ups loaded with soldiers from the KNDF (the defense force of the Karenni peoples) who are going up to the front.
This armed movement, mainly composed of members of the Karenni ethnic group, was created four months after the putsch. One is struck by the youth of the rebels and their leaders. Before being named head of this army of 7,500 people, Maui, 29, mustache and goatee dyed blond, ran an NGO specializing in organic farming. “I acquired basic military instruction from another armed ethnic group before perfecting my skills here, in the field,” explains the warlord, in camouflage fatigues.
Maui and his people also organized a form of administration in the territories under their control. “It’s not perfect, but at least we can provide education and health services to a good part of the displaced people,” he says. A call to the walkie-talkie and off he goes to the front, where one of his 21 battalions faces, sometimes only 50 meters away, hundreds of Burmese soldiers.
“The army destroyed our dreams”
In the west of the state, the Phoenix rehabilitation center, built at the top of a hill, houses a dozen combatants and civilians, victims of shells and mines. Poe Reh lost both his legs to a mine five months ago. “Soon I will receive prostheses and I will be able to resume my life as a peasant,” he hopes, sketching a smile while sitting up on his bed.
On the front line, combatants can count on the support of very committed nurses. Maw Kue Myar, nicknamed Kuku, 23, protested for a month before joining the opposition. “The army has destroyed our dreams, it kills people indiscriminately”, comments this former nurse at the Rangoon hospital. Last year, during a clash in a rice field, under fire from Burmese machine guns, she participated in the recovery of the wounded and dead. She shows photos on her cell phone of a soldier she amputated on the ground. “It’s my way of leading my revolution, our revolution,” smiles this exceptionally courageous Burmese.
Although they display an iron faith, Maui and his officers are under no illusions about the limits of their army. “The Burmese control the plains and the cities and we are masters in our mountains and our forests. But we lack weapons and ammunition”, comments Reh Doh, 26, No. 2 of the KNDF and former law student . According to him, the enemy should not be underestimated. “Many of these soldiers are courageous, in particular because they are drugged with ya ba (“the drug which makes you mad”), a methamphetamine which they obtain for 500 kyats the cachet (about 10 euro cents).
“We manufacture everything, including the explosive”
Without much hope of support from foreign countries – the West does not wish to stir up a conflict on China’s doorstep – the KNDF resorts to the D system. The soldiers bring machine guns dating from the Vietnam War back to life with parts made on site. Several clandestine armories have emerged. In the depths of the jungle, sheltered by basic huts, a dozen opponents – engineers, chemists and simple militants – manufacture 60 mm shells. One of them melts recycled metals – motorcycle engines, carcasses of electricity pylons, etc. – before molding them. Others give them their shape on metal lathes powered by a generator.
Young women fit together the different parts of the weapon. “We make everything, including the explosive,” says a gaunt-faced man, pointing to a row of glass tubes lined up next to barrels of chemicals. Some of these shells will be attached to homemade drones, which will be dropped on Burmese positions.
Under the constant threat of artillery and above all of the air force, the inhabitants have deserted hundreds of villages across the region. Only a few herds of starving cows roam and, sometimes, peasants who have returned at the risk of their lives, like Thoo Rey. Some 300,000 civilians have been forced to move, sometimes tens of kilometers from their homes, to find some semblance of safety in makeshift camps, made up of bamboo huts covered with green tarpaulins.
“Life is very hard here,” says Boe Mya, 35, a widowed mother of six who fled her village to find refuge in one of these camps, set up in an arid field strewn with rocks. food, we depend on the outside. The soil is ungrateful, we can only grow sesame.” And no one rushes to the bedside of the displaced – the United Nations and the big international NGOs are conspicuous by their absence. The refugees have to rely on local NGOs, private donors and the Free Burma Rangers (FBR), a humanitarian organization created in 1997 by a former US Special Forces officer – and one of the very few to go there.
“If I go back, I will be arrested and probably killed”
Aung Zay Ya, a Burmese of Chinese ethnicity, joined the FBR in 2022. This 26-year-old mechanical engineer had a clear future. He worked in Rangoon in a garage which equipped the Ferraris and Lamborghinis of wealthy Burmese. “Two weeks before the coup, I had signed a contract with my boss, who was to send me to Singapore to pursue studies… The putsch put an end to this fine project,” he sighs. After months of peregrinations to avoid the security forces, he found himself among the Karennis, then in the FBR training camp. “Today I am a facilitator with refugees, he says proudly. We move from one site to another to organize fun activities for children, which boosts everyone’s morale.”
Further south, on a bank of the Pon River, Khin Sandar Nyunt resists differently. This little 35-year-old woman with a contagious smile set up a school in a bamboo grove which has already welcomed some 165 students. “For me, the revolution must take place both on a military and educational level, explains this former anthropologist and documentary filmmaker in Rangoon. This is why we offer alternative education in Karenni and English languages, which includes organic agriculture, music, art and craft activities.” Like so many other resistance fighters, she has no news of her family back in the capital. “If I go back, I will be arrested and probably killed.”
In addition to the lack of external military support, the young revolutionaries of Kayah State feel abandoned by other components of the opposition. They say they are particularly disappointed by the government of national unity, in exile, made up of members elected in the 2020 elections and other personalities. “We see him a lot online, but very little in the field, when he has a lot of financial means”, summarizes Kuku, the nurse. On good terms…