The rice is still on fire: The view from Muslim camps in Assam

Bongaigaon (Assam): When I ask for directions to the refugee camp at the military checkpost, the man in uniform is bemused. “Which camp?” he says. “There are so many.” When I tell him it’s in a high school, he shrugs. That does not narrow down the search much at all. Amidst the sun-dappled bamboo groves and waterlogged paddy fields of southern Assam, in districts like Bongaigaon, Kokrajhar, Dhubri and Chirang, many schools are now closed because they shelter the victims of July’s violence that have left almost four lakh homeless and at least 53 dead, according to official estimates. The end of the unexpected summer holiday was supposed to be 31 July. Now it has been extended by another week at least. Promises to keep [caption id=“attachment_404681” align=“alignright” width=“380”] Sandip Roy/Firstpost[/caption] The government, caught flat footed in its initial response, is trying to make up for lost time. The top police officials in the worst affected areas have been transferred. P Chidambaram flew in here in one of his last acts as home minister as did Manmohan Singh and LK Advani. Now Assam’s Chief Minister Tarun Gogoi has said 14 camps have been closed, 12,000 people have gone back home already and the rest will go home by 15 August. At the camp housing Muslim refugees in the high school in Basugaon in Chirang district no one is buying Gogoi’s promises. There are 7,442 people here from 17 villages. Chidambaram came to this camp with promises of protection. “He gave his assurance and left,” says Harun Rashid Mandal, the camp secretary. “I will believe it when I see it.” These refugees have different stories about how they fled. Seventy-year-old Abdul Karim puts his hand halfway up his chest to show how deep the water was when he waded across the river. Some came under the cover of rain-sodden nights walking 25-30 km. Some waited till the first huts were set ablaze, allegedly by Bodo miscreants dressed in army fatigues, before fleeing. Some managed to bring a couple of goats or a cow. Halimi Bibi says she had to leave her old husband behind with their 15 chickens. He was too ill to go anywhere.They tell stories of one deaf and dumb man whose hacked body floated up the river and was found near a rickety wooden bridge. But most families are intact, just scared. The script of demands [caption id=“attachment_404675” align=“alignleft” width=“380”] Lining up for medicines. Sandip Roy/Firstpost[/caption] But while the personal stories differ, when it comes to the future they seem to be all reading from the same script. They will not leave until they get compensation for their homes and cows and chickens. They will not budge unless the CRPF sets up permanent outposts near their villages. “The Assam police will not do,” says Mohammad Amir Hussain from Nalbari village. “Our houses burned in front of them. We called the police officers again and again. They said they were coming but no one came until it was all ashes.” And now there is a political demand – scrap the Bodoland Territorial Areas District agreement that gave these districts autonomy. In effect, these refugees are laying down demands that the government cannot meet. Jayanta Narayan Chowdhury, the Director General of Police in Assam, already infamous for saying the police cannot be always available like an ATM after the Guwahati molestation case, has also said the villages are too dispersed and there can never be enough police pickets. The Bodo community has its counter demands. They want illegal migration stopped (which these refugees stoutly deny is happening) and they want all camp residents to prove their Indian citizenship before they are repatriated. The rice is still on fire At the Nankargaon High School refugee camp, Musa Ali says he cannot even think about going home now. The villages exist cheek by jowl with Bodo villages. Some are encircled by Bodo homes. Some have a main road that passes through Bodo areas. Musa Ali’s younger brother went back a couple of days ago to water the rice fields. “Even the taps had been ripped out and taken away,” he says. Rahim Ali says he saw only the stumps of his house. “Dhaan ekhono jwolchhey (The rice is still on fire),” he says. Just this week nine houses were burned down in Chirang district, a clear warning to refugees who want to return, say the camp residents. The Muslim refugees deny all reports about setting Bodo homes on fire. They are settling down for the long haul. But it’s unclear how long that haul can be. At the Ghilaguri relief camp there are 1,526 people from 10 villages. Every day they have to cook a quintal of rice to feed them. The rice is piled in a great snowy mound. Watery dal cooks in a huge pot. Lines of women and children sit in the sun, some under colourful umbrellas waiting for their daily meal, the same every day. “The government gives us rice, dal, oil and salt. That’s it,” says Kuran Ali, member of the central executive of the All Assam Minority Students Union. “Everything else is donation from the public.” [caption id=“attachment_404671” align=“alignleft” width=“380”] At the Basugaon camp, every family gets its rations – 600 gm of rice for adults, 400 gm for minors, 100 gm of dal and 30 gm of salt. Sandip R0y/Firstpost[/caption] “We understand our plight, But the children are small. They cry for fish. They fight when they eat rice and dal everyday,” says Fatima Bibi. At the Basugaon camp, every family gets its rations – 600 gm of rice for adults, 400 gm for minors, 100 gm of dal and 30 gm of salt. The families have to scrounge for firewood to cook on and beg and borrow pots to cook in. There are potatoes available in the market outside for Rs 30 a kg and chillis for Rs 200 a kg. No one can touch them. The youngest refugee Amidst all the stories of loss and despair, oblivious to the anxiety around her, a baby sleeps. She was born a day after her pregnant mother managed to make it to the Nankargaon camp. [caption id=“attachment_404676” align=“alignright” width=“380”] Amidst all the stories of loss and despair, oblivious to the anxiety around her, a baby sleeps. She was born a day after her pregnant mother managed to make it to the Nankargaon camp. Sandip Roy/Firstpost[/caption] She sleeps on the ground under a little pink mosquito net, covered with a blanket – all donations from well-wishers. Her grandfather, a hollow-eyed man named Abdul Shaikh, says the family of seven barely made it here, soaked in rain, with only the clothes on their back. “But at least she was not born on the road,” he says. The baby has a black smudge on her forehead to ward off the evil eye. Her name is Sobura Khatun, the village schoolteacher says, like the word sobur for patience. She will need plenty of that in the days to come as the refugees of Assam wait to go back home. [fpgallery id=410]

The rice is still on fire: The view from Muslim camps in Assam

Assam’s CM, under attack for his handling of the Bodo situation, wants all the refugees back home ASAP. But the refugees have their own conditions. Here’s the view from the Muslim camps.

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