AFRICAN STORIES

*PLIGHTS OF THE ROHINGYA MUSLIMs Part 1*

Written by:
*Habeebullahi Faruq Olamilekan* *_(Agbeloba)_*

Co-written and edited by:
*Taiye Temitope Abdulrasheed* *_(#Rasbom)_*

     With a population of over 1 million people,  there exist a stateless minority group of people at the southern part of Myanmar or Burma as you choose to call it. These sets of people are Muslim minority in the Buddhist dominated kingdom of Burmis,  in the southern province of Rakhine.
     Stay tune as we take you through the plights of the most terrorise group of minorities in the world.

*Who are the Rohingya?*
     The Rohingya are often described as "the world's most persecuted minority".
They are an ethnic Muslim group who have lived for centuries in the majority Buddhist
Myanmar. Currently, there are about 1.1 million Rohingya Muslims who live in the Southeast Asian country.
The Rohingya speak Rohingya or Ruaingga, a dialect that is distinct to others spoken in Rakhine State and throughout Myanmar. They are not considered one of the country's 135 official ethnic groups and have been denied citizenship in Myanmar since 1982, which has effectively rendered them stateless.
 Nearly all of the Rohingya in Myanmar live in the western coastal state of Rakhine and are not allowed to leave without government permission. It is one of the poorest states in the country with ghetto-like camps and a lack of basic services and opportunities.
Due to ongoing violence and persecution, hundreds of thousands of Rohingya have fled to neighbouring countries either by land or boat over the course of many decades.

*Where are the Rohingya from?*
     Muslims have lived in the area now known as Myanmar since as early as the 12th century, according to many historians and Rohingya groups.
The Arakan Rohingya National Organisation has said, "Rohingyas have been living in Arakan from time immemorial," referring to the area now known as Rakhine.
During the more than 100 years of British rule (1824-1948), there was a significant amount of migration of labourers to what is now known as Myanmar from today's India and Bangladesh . Because the British administered Myanmar as a province of
India, such migration was considered internal, according to Human Rights Watch (HRW).
The migration of labourers was viewed negatively by the majority of the native population.
After independence, the government viewed the migration that took place during British rule as "illegal, and it is on this basis that they refuse citizenship to the majority of Rohingya," HRW said in a 2000 report. This has led many Buddhists to consider the Rohingya as Bengali, rejecting the term Rohingya as a recent invention, created for political reasons.

*How and why are they being persecuted? And why aren't they recognised?*
    Shortly after Myanmar's independence from the British in 1948, the Union Citizenship Act was passed, defining which ethnicities could gain citizenship. According to a 2015 report by the International Human Rights Clinic at Yale Law School, the Rohingya were not included. The act, however, did allow those whose families had lived in Myanmar for at least two generations to apply for identity cards.
Rohingya were initially given such identification or even citizenship under the generational provision. During this time, several Rohingya also served in parliament.
 After the 1962 military coup in Myanmar, things changed dramatically for the Rohingya. All citizens were required to obtain national registration cards. The Rohingya, however, were only given foreign identity cards, which limited the jobs and educational opportunities they could pursue and obtain.
In 1982, a new citizenship law was passed, which effectively rendered the Rohingya stateless. Under the law, Rohingya were again not recognised as one of the country's 135 ethnic groups. The law established three levels of citizenship. In order to obtain the most basic level (naturalised citizenship), there must be proof that the person's family lived in Myanmar prior to 1948, as well as fluency in one of the national languages. Many Rohingya lack such paperwork because it was either unavailable or denied to them.
As a result of the law, their rights to study, work, travel, marry, practice their religion and access health services have been and continue to be restricted. The Rohingya cannot vote and even if they jump through the citizenship test hoops, they have to identify as "naturalised" as opposed to Rohingya, and limits are placed on them entering certain professions like medicine, law or running for office.
Since the 1970s, a number of crackdowns on the Rohingya in Rakhine State have forced hundreds of thousands to flee to neighbouring Bangladesh, as well as
Malaysia, Thailand and other Southeast Asian countries. During such crackdowns, refugees have often reported rape, torture, arson and murder by Myanmar security forces.
After the killings of nine border police in October 2016, troops started pouring into villages in Rakhine State. The government blamed what it called fighters from an armed Rohingya group. The killings led to a security crackdown on villages where Rohingya lived. During the crackdown, government troops were accused of an array of human rights abuses, including extrajudicial killing, rape and arson - allegations the government denied.
In November 2016, a UN official accused the government of carrying out "ethnic cleansing" of Rohingya Muslims. It was not the first time such an accusation has been made.
In April 2013, for example, HRW said Myanmar was conducting a campaign of ethnic cleansing against the Rohingya. The government has consistently denied such accusations.
Most recently, Myanmar's military has imposed a crackdown on the country's Rohingya population after police posts and an army base were attacked in late August.
Residents and activists have described scenes of troops firing indiscriminately at unarmed Rohingya men, women and children. The government, however, has said nearly 100 people were killed after armed men from the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA) launched a raid on police outposts in the region.
Since the violence erupted, rights groups have documented fires burning in at least 10 areas of Myanmar's Rakhine State. More than 50,000 people have fled the violence, with thousands trapped in a no-man's land between the two countries...To be continue...

*REFERENCES*
United Nations (UN)
International Human Right Clinic
Human Right Watch
Al-Jazeera
CNN
BBC

LIVING IN GUILT

Story by Akin Omo Akin

I tried resisting but she persisted. She was all over me as she urged, patiently waiting for me to give in. I finally lost control but when she stared at me,keeping her gaze on my retina. Looking through her blue eyes my heart was sectile.

"Please, Princely, please, I want this." She said with a subtle touch.

"okay how much for the blue contact lenses?" I asked the anxious shop keeper.

"Six thousand five." He replied
I fumed, as I reached my pocket for my credit card, resenting the shopkeepers sated smile.

Sekinat was bode's girlfriend, and it was her birthday In two days. We had been shopping the entire afternoon. Just like I promised her. a favor from bode , who has travelled abroad for few months program. I help her into the taxi, laughing as she clutched two nylon bags in her hands. She was beautiful, adorable, daring, and lively. For a while, we were both silent and the atmosphere was becoming too dull for her to bare. I had to bring something up, I told her about myself, my family, the crazy girlfriend I had. It was all lively and she was happy and talky, i decided to tell her about how I felt for her. The silent that evade the air was so brawny, I regretted telling her about what I felt for her,she must hate me now, "I muttered."

We'd been on the road for almost an hour, as we approached the last stop that leads to her house, I sighed with lot of air running through my nerves.

"Why did you allow him that day, why?"she spoke.

" huh?" I stuttered.

"At the Hangout. You came to me first, but you said nothing, bode asked me out in your present."

"I...I loved you the first time I saw your face. I had wish that everything he said and did to me that night was done by you." I was lost.

The car pulled over in front of her apartment. She got down first, dragging her nylon with the door, I stood on her side holding the door for her and frowning at the silence between us.

"It's getting late I should probably go home and prepare for tomorrow." I said as she dropped the bags.

She stood up facing me, and whispered "I can't thank you enough for today"

Even though I couldn't explain the kiss and everything that came afterward, we had the night to our best, a "a fifty shade " kind of night. Her body was a lover's breath away from mine. Our tongues were wet with guilt. I opened my eyes and wished I never did, oh we never did. The image of the night still hunts the inner me as I watched bode leaning on his kitchen cabinet to fetch me some drinks.

Story By AKINOMOAKIN

Faraway from the earth, there we live ,just like every other human; we are mortals, we eat, we sleep, we work, we reproduce, but there's this particular thing that secern and differentiate us from the common man, which is the Time. On the phase of our hand is a long inscription of reading time. Practically, our day to day living depends on that time, unlike the humans that are ignorance of their death day, our time of death is glaring and plainly displayed on our hands, once the time runs out, we die; in respective of where we are or what we are doing at the moment our time runs off. In our world, we have no currency, we purchase cars, food, house, taxes , and everything by depositing our running time. In our world transferring of time is possible: possible for someone who have lot of time to give out to those who have few, and also possible for someone who have few to take everything from someone who have lots. In our world our time does not read immediately we are born , until we are thirty years old. after that we grow no more, and we have no change in our look or appearance.


Just like the normal world, the way we have poor and rich people, we also have billionaire amongst us, who virtually can live for a whole life time and also poor people who have nothing less than few hours more to live; because they have wasted most of their time on day to day expenses.


My ephemeral story of life in time was brutal, my time starts to read when I turned 25, my Family, we are poor but still averagely better than lot of those that roam around the street. My Dad, he was a time thief, he steals time from those who have millions and gives to those who have little on the street. My mother was a school teacher who doesn't get paid till after a month. Every morning my father will call on all of us, me, my mum and my little sister, and he'll give us some of his time probably a day or two so we can survive till he gets back. One day my dad went to rob as usual, because it's been long he gives time to people in the street. and lots are dying, dad got shot and he died. He died with our family asset (the time) in his hand. Since then we became very poor, I had to start working but still the work fetch little or no time for us to survive for long. sooner my mum was having one day left to die, and so I started giving her 24hours from my time everyday. My sister, she's not yet 25, her time is yet to start reading, thereby making it impossible for her to share. we continue living like that, give a day to my mum from my time and she pays me back after receiving her salary, but this month, my sister died ,her time started reading while she was asleep in her boyfriend place. he was reported to have stolen all of her time and elope from our time zone.


Now i have only my mum as family. On my time I have just 5yrs and two months to live. Because I have already giving most of my time to my mum. Mum was about leaving for work one morning, as usual, I have to give her some of my time. Normally I'm supposed to give her a day, but she requested for half, she told me she won't be staying out long, I did as instructed and she kissed my cheek and left. That evening, after I returned from work, I didn't meet at home, which is very unusual, I couldn't call her because I'll have to deposit an hour for a call and she have to deposit an hour to pick my calls too, mum doesn't have that much. I set out for the park immediately, when I got there, the last bus was just arriving, I went inside the bus to check for her, but she's not inside. My mum attempted boarding that bus, but that particular day, her destination was increased to 2 hours and she have 1:32minute left on her time. She had to start running. I badge out of the bus and started running towards her location, hopefully to catch her up on the run, of course I did, mum approaching from far, I increased my speed pace and sooner I was about reaching her, while she approached me, her face were filled with smile and just when I stretch out my hand to reach out for hers, she fell and died, she ran out of time.


That is how i lost my family and everything i have. The way this is happening In my family, the same way it's happening in other families who live in time. We all live to die by the sunset of the day. Anytime I hear the people of the earth saying how nice would it have been, if everyone knows the day they'll die, I'll smile and thank the almighty on their behalf, for they are lucky,and do not dwell in time like us.


This story was inspired by Justin Timberlake (the actor of IN TIME).

I moved my gun slowly. My aim came into full view. I was lying in the grass while Commander was sitting behind a tree close to me and yelling out orders. The tree branches spread out; it shielded us from the sun.

“Do you have a full view of them now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take them out.”

“Sir?”

“I said take them out!”

“But the little girl and her mother stand no threat to us, sir.”

“Take. Them. Out. Magabush!”





No! No! No! I was still shouting when I felt a cold tender hand touch my cheek, I woke up with a start.

“What’s the matter Sweety?”

It was my wife Angela. I was lying on a sofa in our lounge. The air conditioners were on but I could feel sweat under my arms.

“You were shouting in your sleep.”

“Was I sleeping? It was only a nap. It’s… it’s nothing. What time is it?’’

“2 pm.” She said, pointing at the big wall clock.

“What’s the matter with you?” Her hand was on my bare chest. I was sure she could feel my heart beat.

“I am fine.”

“No. You’re not.”

“I am.” I left her, went into the bathroom, then I pushed the door behind me slightly hard.

In becoming a soldier, we were thought to be unmerciful; we could do anything to protect our subject. Perhaps that was the very reason Commander asked me to shoot the little girl and her mother while he looked away and let me bear the pain alone. This was the first rule. I had imagined that the little girl I shot was my daughter Annie. I remember the look on the child’s face, how she was smiling and was about to hug her mother as if she knew it was her last moment. I had shot her first before her mother. I wanted to save her the pain of seeing her mother die. Was this mercy? I thought of the fear and pain in the woman’s heart that second as she saw her own daughter’s head shredded to nothing, it would be much. Enormous. I thought, too, of the shock that came to her when she herself got hit. What did she think at that last moment? Did she forgive the “devil” that shot her and her daughter? I know she wouldn’t. She wasn’t Jesus Christ, no one would.

I imagined again that Angie was the woman, standing helplessly, watching Annie before she herself got hit. Holy shit! No. But how could I have shot them, just how?

And now, how can I stand before Angie telling this story? Could I stare into her eyes and say I was right? That in the army, in my first days, the lieutenant, the one with a lopsided face who always spat like he had eaten a snail, had said something. Never disobey the senior officer at any operation and never question him too. Do exactly as he commands… this is rule number two. It was for this very reason that I had pulled the trigger that moment.

I would open this door, then go and meet Angie. She would understand me. She would kiss me and say I was right. But deep down, something told me I was not right. Magabush, I call myself, you were wrong!

Story by Akin Omo Akin

My body is fine and tender, my skin as soft as that of a newly born baby, and lips so sexy that a thousand men  would fall when words escape them.I am that one perfect creation of the sixth day. A spotless and radiant body is worth beholding by all eyes that see. My body is a perfect definition of a mans fantasy, and thats the reason I exhibit my model-like figure. A hundred pictures from an angle, just to have a perfect shot. My love for photos grew to become a bad habit. I love outdoor poses, but the best are taken indoors. My lingerie is adorable, and skin tight enclasp my curves.


More poses attracts more social media pages likes, more comments and attentions all I have ever wanted. I wanted more likes than usual, so i decided to go weirder and bizarre. Pant half worn, G-strings preferably. My boobs are barely clothed, but I love them screaming out loud. Indeed it worked, but I have totally lost my innocence and it sometimes freaks me out. The advances i receive daily are numerous, but I have some that keeps my head up and my eyes stocked to the screen of my phone.

Particularly that of his, Mr Michael, he is my most admired follower on Instagram. I read most of his direct messages and I got overwhelmed by his world of fantasy with his lascivious obscene sayings. A photographer is what he called himself, he has a lot of beautiful and gleaming pictures of ladies that got me thrilled in his profile, professional looking photoshoot on modeling. He invited me over to his place and without hesitation I harkened into every lead that took me to his world.

On getting to his apartment, my expectations were daunted. I was hoping to see picture, portraits or any form of artistry but I didn't. I had the best shot of my life and I thought that was all, unknowingly it was the beginning of my mystery. It all dawned on me after our first sex of seven rounds, although I wasn't surprised, before I left home, I had prepared for the sex but not other things he did to me afterwards. He was dominant and had me submit to his sexual urge, more like him making me a character in his sexual narrative. He inject me with unknown fluids day and night, with my hands tied. I became his sex machine, courting more than 11times daily. At a certain stage he wasn't satisfied with the sex anymore he did a lot of nasty and unspeakable things with me. Days over days, weeks of solicitation, I was lost in time like a spill ashes. I was stripped of humanity "ahh iya je mi" and fordeem to beg for my freedom. My beg and plea fell deaf ears for  they, were all meaningless to him.

At exactly one month, I was injected with this particular fluid, everything went blank I had no experience of what fluid I had been injected with. I woke  up in the middle of no where with absolutely nothing to remember, I saw an envelope before me, and what I found in them were pictures of my nakedness and nasty things I have done with Michael, with an inscription boldly written on one of the photos that says thus

"You're the 44th girl that has gone through this and you're among the 24th lucky survival of this escapades good luck"

I'm only alive today because I didn't lose my breath to this sanity. Life became darkening, depressive, miserable and unworthy to live afterward for I am the architect of my calamity. Don't be like me, learn from my story.

THE NIGHT
STORY by Heritage

I wished I never met her that night. That was the night I lost my reservation to the naughty me. Things happened really fast that I was not only a victim, but a party.

It all began when I went with friends to a get-together party organised by an association in which they belong. I don't fancy parties so I never wanted to attend but they insisted that I follow them. We got to the venue at exactly 7:49pm. I was obviously a newbie to such events so my friends tried as much as possible to make me comfortable. Can I? I predicted that the night will be a mess and a waste of time, I turned out to be a clairvoyant.

I was in my nervous seat when a young lady walked up to us with a tray of Drinks. I collected mine - I no go carry last. But something was catchy. I thought I was the only one that saw it. Obviously, I wasn't.

Who saw that?

"Me!!!", all of my friends chorused while their gaze never moved from its fixture. We saw a gifted damsel. She's endowed.

I stood up and proceeded to the corner behind the room where my friends were seated. I saw the glancing beauty ahead and I adjusted my ironed but sagged top.

'Hi, I am Yemi. Can I get to know the one that has the power to restrain me from eating here tonight if she so wishes?' I said with a mischievous voice but she never noticed.

She smiled and told me that she's Arike. What a name! I told her that I would like to give her a hand in sharing the drinks. She was reluctant at first but later agreed on the condition that I would be diligent and respectful to guests. I nodded in full affirmation without thinking. Was I in my right senses? I doubt.

That night, I ran helter shelter to attend to famished guests. Some guests are created glutton. I saw that.

'Would you prefer salad on your fried rice?', that was me taking orders. Some wanted stew on it. I was like, 'OK'. I just have to be diligent. Arike wanted me to be.

While this lasted, Arike was somewhere - I didn't know, attending to some other things I guess. I don't just mind. I just want to get her sympathy and care afterwards. I am hardworking, like seriously.

Alas! Arike came out of the hidden, but holding a hand. Whose hand? I can't guess. Maybe her uncles' or brothers', I can't be so sure. My luck began to get 'waterish' when Arike came to thank me for all I have been doing for her for the past hours. She declared that I was lovely and helpful. I felt elated until she introduced the man who has being smiling while she was reciting her complement for me.

"So, Mr Yemi, meet my fiance. He is into buying and selling of fruits. He sells in a wholesale market o. By the way, I haven't introduced myself properly to you. I am an event planner. My service was needed here so I had to come and do what I am job", Arike said and smiled.
I glanced into the air. I had the 'someone should tap me' look. I can't believe my ears. I started feeling pain in my stomach. It was then that I knew I haven't eaten for the past three hours since we got there. I had served my friends more than three times. That night, I was fooled by beauty that belongs to someone else.


Heritage is an author, poet and fiction writer. He is currently a Law student at  University of Ilorin, Ilorin
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