The Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh have yet to come to terms with the trauma they had experienced in Myanmar. Multimedia Producer Ahmer Khan visited Cox’s Bazar to document in photographs the Rohingya people with what they held dearest to them during their troubled escape from home. Words by Saad Hammadi, Amnesty International South Asia Campaigner.

Last November, when word spread of a possible repatriation of a few thousand Rohingya refugees, hundreds sought sanctuary in other camps in Cox’s Bazar to escape a forced return and avoid being identified.

In the desperately overcrowded camps across Ukhiya in Cox’s Bazar, many Rohingya refugees have still not recovered from the trauma they experienced in Myanmar. That painful escape from home still haunts them.

On 25 August 2017, Myanmar’s military launched a deadly crackdown on the Rohingya people from the country’s northern Rakhine state. Homes were razed, villages burned down, women and children raped, and thousands killed in grisly crimes against humanity.

The military crackdown prompted more than 720,000 Rohingya men, women and children to flee their homes and seek refuge in Bangladesh. Many of these people have fled their homes with whatever they could put together, starved, as they walked through the hills across Maungdaw and Buthidaung townships to finally reach Tombroo, Teknaf, Shah Pari Dweep and other bordering areas of southern Bangladesh.

When the security forces came for them, the only option for many was to get away on foot. Even as the hundreds of thousands made it to Bangladesh, some however, succumbed to their wounds and illness on their way.

Amina Khatoon, 40, used a split bamboo pole to shoulder her ailing mother, with the support of a cloth tied to it. Her mother passed away before they could reach Bangladesh. The remains of the bamboo pole is all she has to remember her.

Many refugees who made it to Bangladesh hold smallest of their possessions close to their heart. In the sudden exodus, a few carried with them just a Quran, a few their identity cards.

Others brought with them essential items such as a cooking pot or the stick that had helped 100-year-old Naseema Khatoon make the arduous journey.

In Ukhiya, for days many were stranded in the forests on the two sides of the highway. They had finally managed to squeeze themselves into the already overcrowded Balukhali and Kutupalong camps. The refugees have settled for the smallest of space that they could find for themselves to spend the nights in the threadbare camps on the mud mounts in the hill areas.

The makeshift homes built using tarpaulins and bamboos make a temporary shelter of roughly 20 to 35 square-feet each, for about four to 10 members of a Rohingya family. The camps are densely populated with 60,000 to 95,000 people per square kilometre, even more than the most densely populated cities in the world today. There are close to one million Rohingya refugees in the camps stretched across 6,000 acres, making the camps near Cox’s Bazar the largest refugee camp in the world.

Bangladesh has generously allowed a huge population of the refugees into the country despite its own economic and demographic challenges. It is a low-income country and world’s most densely populated. The only space for the refugees could be found when the authorities cut down forests in the hills of Cox’s Bazar.

The International Criminal Court has launched a preliminary investigation into the deportation of the hundreds of thousands of the Rohingya refugees from Myanmar into Bangladesh. It is critical that the international bodies continue their efforts to bring the perpetrators of the crimes committed against the Rohingya people in Myanmar to accountability.

In the meantime, until the conditions are safe, voluntary, dignified and sustainable for the Rohingya refugees to return to their homes, the international community must take shared responsibility for the fate of the Rohingya people. While their efforts must afford Bangladesh with financial and technical assistance to tackle the crisis, countries must look at the potential of the Rohingya people as part of third country relocation in the event of a long-term crisis situation, where judicial investigation and justice for the Rohingya can take time and a repatriation may be too soon, too dangerous.

Follow Ahmer Khan on Twitter: @ahmermkhan

It’s awards season in Hollywood, and a year since a #MeToo-dominated Oscars ceremony made sexual harassment a global talking point. Critics will be watching to see what, if anything, has changed in the film industry since the Harvey Weinstein scandal broke.

But the #MeToo movement has made ripples far beyond LA. Away from the spotlight there are many amazing women who are fighting against sexism, harassment and violence, braving discrimination and stigma in their quest for change.

Punjita, Rashmila and Ashmita, three activists from Nepal, embody this spirit of determination.

In July 2018, a 13-year-old schoolgirl named Nirmala Pant was raped and murdered in Nepal’s Kanchanpur District. This brutal crime, and the lack of effective investigation by the authorities, started a wave of protests across Nepal. Meanwhile two women accused the former Kathmandu mayor of sexual harassment, inspiring others to come forward with their stories.

Here Punjita, Rashmila and Ashmita describe why speaking out about harassment and violence is so important and tell us why Nepal needs a #MeToo movement.

Punjita Pradhan is the co-founder of Utkarsha Nepal, which supports victims of sexual violence

“The protests following Nirmala’s murder sparked media coverage saying Nepal was having its ‘#MeToo moment’. Although there are parallels with global movements, some of the issues I work on are a particular problem in Nepal, which is one of the poorest countries in the world. For example, there are thousands of children in Nepal who live and work on the streets, and they are especially vulnerable to sexual abuse. These children cannot rely on the authorities to protect them.

“Victim blaming is still the knee-jerk response for many in Napal.”

– Punjita Pradhan

“Although Nepal has laws against gender-based violence and harassment, very few cases are reported. Those that are usually end in an out-of-court settlement – but then the victims still have a lifetime of stigma to contend with. Victim blaming is still the knee-jerk response for many in Nepal.

“There is supposed to be a minimum six-month jail term for domestic violence or sexual abuse, but in reality, the perpetrators are often released after a single night. So even if a victim reports a case, there is no guarantee of their safety afterwards.

“I used to work as a journalist, and I faced sexual harassment from the police, army and my colleagues – experiences which I realised so many women share. One friend told me a story I couldn’t forget. In her neighbourhood there was a woman who had recently got married and she was being constantly groped by her new brother-in-law. She didn’t want to report it – she was scared that her marriage would break down, she would be blamed for enticing that man and she would have to carry the shame all her life.

“I’ve found that many women with depression or anxiety have faced sexual abuse at least once, and usually multiple times in their lives.”

– Punjita Pradhan

“Stories like this prompted me to quit my job as a journalist and start Utkarsha Nepal. Our aim is to create awareness about sexual harassment and abuse and to remove the stigma. Very few people in Nepal are willing to talk openly about these issues. We work in schools and colleges promoting understanding about mutual consent and healthy personal boundaries. We also provide counselling, healing and legal support for victims.

“In my experience as a counsellor, I’ve found that many women with depression or anxiety have faced sexual abuse at least once, and usually multiple times in their lives. When there is no justice, their trauma is prolonged.

“It’s important that we include men in this discussion too. Men who have experienced sexual abuse themselves may be more likely to go on to abuse others. This is one reason why it’s essential that victims feel they have someone to talk to.

“There have recently been some improvements in terms of awareness, and it’s great that these conversations are coming out in the open, especially with women coming forward about their experiences with high-profile men. But there is still a long way to go. In November, a government minister summoned the editors of five state newspapers and instructed them not to print any criticism of the government’s response to the murder of Nirmala Pant. The government is still so afraid of speaking about these issues.”

Rashmila Prajapati used to work for Kathmandu local government. She now runs an NGO that campaigns against sexual violence and teaches self-defence for women and girls.

“In October 2003, I received a letter from my employer, the Kathmandu Mayor’s Office, saying my service had been terminated. No explanation was given, even though I had worked there for six years. Over the next few days articles started appearing in local and national news saying I had been sacked for corruption. It was a terrible time.

“My boss kept hinting that I would be promoted if I spent time alone with him.”

– Rashmila Prajapati

“I knew the real reason I’d lost my job. A few years earlier I had resisted repeated sexual advances from my boss. He kept hinting that I would be promoted if I spent time alone with him. He tried to hold my hand and touch me in ways I didn’t like. I told him straight that this was not going to happen, and shortly afterwards his tenure ended. But when he was reinstated in 2003, one of the first things he did was to fire me.

“When I was fired, friends suggested taking legal action, but I was not sure that I would get justice. There was no law against sexual harassment then and my harasser was powerful enough to create “fake proof” of my corruption, even though I was innocent. So I kept quiet – for fifteen years.

“Then, in 2018, I read a status on Facebook: a woman journalist was alleging sexual harassment at the hands of the same man. I knew I couldn’t stay silent anymore. So I shared my story on Facebook. I wanted to prove that victims of harassment are not voiceless.

“My post was shared widely on social media and was all over the news the next day. Even then powerful people tried to cover up for my harasser and paint me as a liar. The man I accused of harassment, who was in a very powerful post, threatened to sue me and repeated the corruption allegations against me. He is no longer in the post, but this is not just about one man. Nepal has many serial predators who have been misusing their power and positions for years. They include politicians, bureaucrats, actors, writers, business people and others. It’s high time we reveal them.

“We have worked with internationally renowned martial artists, and our instructors are all martial artists with black belts.”

– Rashmila Prajapati

“In a way I was lucky. I was able to resist that man’s advances because my family’s financial position was strong and I had other options for work – I used to teach in a college. But I kept thinking about the women who didn’t have options like mine. That’s why in 2012, I co-founded an organization called Women Empowerment Nepal, which works against sexual violence and teaches self-defence skills to women and girls.

“We have worked with internationally renowned martial artists, and our instructors are all martial artists with black belts. Self-defence is not about fighting, but instilling confidence. So far we have taught more than 3,000 women and girls. Besides the physical tactics, we help women to identify risks and teach them about the law and their rights.

“Though I could not fight against the injustice that happened to me then, I am determined to raise my voice against sexual violence now.”

– Rashmila Prajapati

“Our aim is to make women believe that they can and should defend themselves against sexual harassment and violence. Often the participants are shy at first but they definitely get into it!

“Though I could not fight against the injustice that happened to me then, I am determined to raise my voice against sexual violence now. I want to help create a society that is safe and free for everyone.”

Ashmita Sapkota is a Campaigner at Amnesty International Nepal, which is working to educate women across the country about their rights

“Through our campaigning on violence against women, and our human rights education program, Amnesty Nepal has been raising awareness about the issue of sexual harassment and gender-based violence.

“Some people living in big cities are aware of the global #MeToo movement, but the vast majority of women in rural areas – who are most at risk of harassment and abuse – are not aware of these conversations.

“But for there to be true gender equality in Nepal, we need to empower women economically and socially.”

– Ashmita Sapkota

“There are many challenges when it comes to talking about these issues in the Nepali context. Sexual harassment is just not taken seriously, which means women don’t have much faith in the justice system and are reluctant to open up. Plus, many of the perpetrators are powerful people which makes it even more difficult and means it is often the victims who end up being blamed and stigmatized.

“There have been some recent positive changes. There have been public displays of solidarity, from both men and women, towards the brave women who have spoken up.

“Women have the best knowledge of the problems and struggles that discrimination causes.”

– Ashmita Sapkota

“But for there to be true gender equality in Nepal, we need to empower women economically and socially. We need to fight against our country’s patriarchal mindset that views women as less than men, and that means educating both men and women.

“It’s so important that women are at the forefront of conversations about these issues. We have the best knowledge of the problems and struggles that discrimination causes, which is why I’d encourage women in Nepal to get involved in human rights activism. It’s challenging of course, but even a small change gives us hope and satisfaction.”

In the aftermath of Jair Bolsonaro’s election on an openly anti-human rights agenda, a climate of fear remains in Brazil. Yet, young people are rising up and making their voices heard. Amnesty International met seven human rights activists who reveal what life is like in Salvador, Brazil, and how they’re tackling violence against women, racism and homophobia head on.

“I’ve been living in a state of fear since I was little” – Lidiane, 33

They are there to protect you, but they can hurt you at any moment. Since I was a little girl, this is the image I’ve had of the police. My childhood was littered with the sound of gunshots. Growing up, I didn’t realise what they were, but now I know how fatal they are.

I live in a favela where police frequently come to my community. They never offer any information or say who they’re looking for, but they will attack anyone who gets in their way. Over the past few years, the situation has escalated, so we’re establishing curfews and we are constantly monitoring the situation.

I’ve been living in a state of fear since I was a little girl. That’s common in Salvador, Brazil. This fear has fuelled my passion to fight for justice. When I went to university I wanted to study law. It was a way to be inside the system and represent the needs and the issues of the people in my community.

The fight for justice has not been without its obstacles, though. As a black woman, I have limited access to certain opportunities. Every day, I face three stereotypes – I am from the periphery, I am a woman and I am black.

Becoming part of Amnesty International was a turning point. I’ve spent my life fighting for human rights and questioning gender inequality. When I attended my first meeting, I met people who had similar stories to me. They wanted to take a different path and transform their communities.

As a practicing lawyer, I am working on two cases in my community, providing support to those who can’t afford it. I want to prove to others that we have the right to dream and that it is possible to overcome the barriers we face. We might be moving towards an increasingly dictatorial state, but if we unify my hope is we can come together, resist and change the direction of this country.

“My mother was beaten so many times” – Nubia, 33

My father was an alcoholic. We all suffered because of it. He would come home from work and beat my mother, myself and my siblings. Sometimes we would escape during the early hours and seek refuge at my family’s house until my father left for work. He had a rifle, and my mother was afraid of what he would do with it.

I learned to cope – I had to. My mother didn’t have the strength to leave, so as I was the eldest I would confront my father the most. I’d put myself in the middle of the fight to protect my mother. I didn’t want to see him bash her head into the wall or break her back.

My father stopped drinking about four years ago, but I don’t feel like I’ve fully dealt with what happened. I haven’t had any therapy and when I speak about what I went through I still feel the same wave of emotions.

I’ve found hope through standing up for other women suffering from domestic violence. Many of my friends and neighbours have also suffered gender-based violence. That’s why this cause is so important to me and why I want to empower women to get out of these situations.

Being part of Amnesty International’s Youth Group in Salvador made me realise I am not alone. It’s important to be part of something bigger, especially given the current climate.

President Bolsonaro is planting words that go against human rights. I am hopeful, though, that people will open their eyes and see that there is another way to live. When you work together you meet people who have lived the same realities as you, and everyone is welcomed and represented. By working together, we give ourselves a voice.

“I am going to be somebody” – Paulo, 29

I was born and brought up in a rural village in Bahia, Brazil, where racism was a daily part of life.

My parents understood the importance of education. Despite the little money we had, they still sent me to private school. I was one of just two black students. I was insulted a lot by students and teachers. One of the teachers named me “little blackie” and on one occasion, the teacher threatened to punch me in the face.

I understood the teacher was being prejudiced, so I decided to rise above it. I thought to myself, “I am going to be somebody”.

I studied Theology at university and later went on to complete a Masters in Gender studies. While I was at university I got more involved with youth movements, including Amnesty International, and learned about human rights.

As destiny would have it, I am now a teacher at that same school where I suffered discrimination and prejudice. I am currently working on a project to ensure human rights education is a key part of the school curriculum and I already teach human rights in my own classes.

Even though we’re living in challenging times, social movements in Brazil are growing stronger. Human rights education is a seed that can transform our way of seeing the world. My hope is that all the seeds I plant will bloom into something for the world.

“My mum was murdered by her ex-husband” – Maira, 32

When I was 20, my mum was murdered by her ex-husband. He was unable to accept the end of their relationship.

Violence against women is rife in Brazil – and my mum’s case is one of many. I spent a year in mourning. It was hard to find the strength to keep going. I thought I’d never laugh again. It had always just been me and my mum – she was the most important person in my life.

At first, I found it hard to work on issues like gender-based violence and feminism as they were so close to my heart. Today I have more courage to talk about these things.

I’ve drawn strength from other strong women, such as my two aunts – one of whom is like a second mother. Without them, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today. They’ve been so supportive and they’ve given me a reason to keep living.

Since my mother died, seeing injustice really affects me. It spurred me on to join Amnesty International’s youth group in Salvador. I realised the meaning of life, the richness and value of it. It’s amazing being part of a group of likeminded people. They support my ideas and we make them happen!

The next few years are going to be difficult. However, there’s an inner force of power within us and we won’t keep quiet. There’s a movement of unity in Brazil – we won’t give up.

“My rights are attacked nearly every day” – Jamille, 26

I’ve faced so many barriers just because I am a black woman – my rights are attacked nearly every day. I am a student at the university in Salvador. I am here to make up diversity quotas, so people don’t think I deserve my place at university, when it’s my right to be here.

But I still have hope. Living in this society inspires me every day. I am proud to say I am a human rights activist. It’s a way of reaffirming to people that human rights are for everybody and that we must defend them.

Given the current climate, I am fearful nothing will change, but my hope is that together we create a world that is more welcoming to diversity and less unequal. It’s up to us to create this world together.

“I am black. I am gay. I am a human rights educator” – Israel, 28

My story of activism starts with me – and what I’ve been through. I am a black man, I am a gay man, I am a human rights educator.

Salvador is a dangerous place to grow up, especially if you’re young, poor and black. The colour of your skin makes you much more vulnerable to violence. For me, though, the hardest part of growing up in this society was knowing I was gay. My family are super Christian and I thought I would go to hell if I told them the truth.

When I met my husband I knew I had to tell my parents. At first, they said they were OK with it. One week later, my mother screamed that ‘the demons of homosexuality’ should leave the house. I’ve been with my husband for eight years and we’ve adopted two children, but my family still don’t want to know us.

I dove head first into activism. A lot of men don’t think it’s OK to be gay, but I want to let them know it is. That’s why I run a project in public schools, where I teach kids about bullying, diversity, gender, sexuality and human rights. I am also part of Amnesty International’s Youth Group in Salvador. Everyone who is part of the group is so brave. They stand up for everybody, regardless of race, gender, class or sexuality, and they fight for justice.

I am making my voice heard through education – it’s key to human rights and it’s a way to cut through violence. My work does make me fearful. Human Rights Defender Marielle Franco was shot and killed, just for standing up for the rights of others. It could happen to me too, but the fight continues.

“Find people who are fighting for human rights” – Blenda, 24

Salvador has the highest black population in Brazil, but I still face a lot of racism.

When I was 13 kids at school would make fun of my hair. They used to throw paper balls at me and stick gum in my hair. As a result, I grew up with low self-esteem and anxiety which led to depression.

I’ve been interested in charity work since I was 12, but many of the organizations I volunteered for never addressed racial issues. When Amnesty International Brazil launched its Black Youth Alive campaign in Salvador, I was so excited as I hadn’t seen any other NGOs working on this issue.

I’ve been an activist for three years now. One of the highlights is how we use the Quilombox to carry out our work. The Quilombox is a box containing mobilisation tools, which doubles up as a projector. The box of materials provides an opportunity to discuss human rights through spoken word, dance and hip hop. It was created by different human rights activists around the country, with the support of Amnesty International. It’s an incredible resource because it means we can learn from other young people in Brazil. These are the types of tools we need in Brazil. The next few years are going to be difficult, especially for young black people.

It’s important to find people who are fighting for better human rights conditions. It’s these people that have helped me and made me feel part of something bigger.