It has been quite some time since we left home. From 2019 to now, it’s been six years. When we first arrived, we had nothing with us and lived with no clear destination in mind, merely fighting to survive. War, depicted in movies as a dramatic battle of valor and glory, is far from entertaining when experienced firsthand. In reality, it brings only fear, hunger, and despair, stripping away any notion of heroism or beauty.
There’s a film titled “I Fought Because I Hated War.” If you truly hate war, there’s no need to fight. We live in a Buddhist country, a Theravāda country. Temples are built, monestrys are constructed, and under the guise of religious principles, they continue to kill people like the King Sakyawade (the King of Universe) with white elephant. If our Buddhist leaders were truly benevolent and wise, they would cease fighting upon despising war. Consider the tale of Ashoka—after fighting and conquering Kalinga, he despised war and began fearing the consequences of it. Later, he became known throughout history as the great peace advocate and a devout Buddhist king.
Hating war but fighting against it with more war is not an act of simplicity or foolish stubbornness. I don’t know if they admired the 40-year-long war between Inwa and Hanthawaddy that we learned when we were children. Now, it’s approaching an 80-year-long war between the ethnic groups and the military. Do they really want to teach this to our children as part of history? I can’t say. Turning an entire country into a warzone is not a small transformation; it is a major change that impacts everyone.
Just recently, I saw a post by a friend, a brother—about collecting donations for female sanitary pads and underwears for displaced women in Than Twe. In his post, he held a packet of sanitary pads, personally asking for donations. Normally, such posts are made by women. But now, even men are getting involved in raising donations for women’s basic needs. Seeing his post stirred something within me. During such pressing times, while people are suffering, the best and truest thing to do is to help, regardless of gender. Supporting each other in any way we can is what truly matters.
When a daughter from IDP camp experienced her first menstruation, she seemed very weak and unwell. Her mother took her aside and taught her everything she needed to know “how to use sanitary pads and underwears, and how to properly dispose of them. She reassured her that it was a natural process that all women go through, encouraging her not to worry and to eat well and rest.” Under normal circumstances, these are not particularly significant matters, but during times of intense conflict when people are struggling for survival, such issues become crucial. For those who fled with nothing, without even basic necessities, and are now living for years in IDP camps, an underwear or a packet of sanitary pads can become a matter of utmost importance.
People can make do with whatever food they find, and sleep as a family even in inadequate shelters. But women hold their dignity as more precious than life itself. I remember being impressed by an Indian movie that depicted the struggles of women in India dealing with menstruation. It portrayed the customs and traditions around the subject, including the need for women to sleep outside the house during their periods. The film’s protagonist worked to break these barriers, eventually becoming a hero in his community for his efforts to provide affordable sanitary products. The transformation that simple innovation brought to the lives of women. Watching that film, I genuinely admired his courage and determination.
In our community, it is just us, the people. Now is not the time to draw lines between genders. That’s the realization I got from that post. From beginning to end, those who support the revolution are always the people. Without the people, there would be no revolution. Thus, it’s only natural for the people to solve each other’s difficulties. During this time, connecting those who need help with those who can offer help is the work of a true humanitarian and social worker, the volunteer.
Charity and social work are not defined by organizations or money. When people fled Than Twe, many locals invited them to stay for free, posting invitations online to offer food, rides, and temporary homes. This is where we see the genuine compassion of social workers. Their spirit is one of “Rakhita”.
A simple bowl of rice or a sip of water is of immense value during these times. It is not just in Than Twe; across Rakhine, there are countless people with this humanitarian spirit. In 2022, when soldiers entered our village, we fled to a nearby village. There, we were six men, the house was quite small. Yet they treated us like honored guests, cooking for us and offering whatever they had, something I remember to this day. When I see the posts by humanitarian Wei Hin Aung from Rakhine, I see donors giving whatever they can afford “from tens of thousands of kyats to some amounts” as their contribution to help. It’s a daily occurrence.
The small contributions made by the people to ease the sufferings of others are truly noble. Women, who value dignity and virtue above life itself, are now being forced to leave everything behind and continue their tough journey with barely any clothes on their back and tears in their eyes.
Women are the mothers, sisters, and daughters of our nation. To help alleviate their suffering, what we need in the warzone is a mouthful of rice, a sip of water, and a package of pads.
