A 38-year-old Artist from Thandwe City, known as Day Day, was arrested by the military council and sentenced to ten years of hard Labor for participating in protests the coup.

Actively involved in peace and rehabilitation efforts, she is a resilient woman who has become a thorn in the side of Thandwe City’s pro dictator. She was detained under suspicious charges, denied the right to defend, and sentenced to a decade in prison in a harsh, authoritarian manner.

By the time she had served two years, fighting between the Arakha Army and Military Council forces had spread to Thandwe.

I had already heard that the AA would enter and capture Thandwe town. We were all waiting for change, weren’t we? I hoped the AA would reach us as soon as possible. I could hear the distant sounds of heavy weapons and gunfire, analysing each sound as it echoed from afar.

After the AA offensive captured strategic points No. 55 and 566 along the beach, the city guards secured a position in the prison and fortified it. This effectively turned the more than 400 prisoners inside into human shields.

I think it was the 23rd of June. Yes, on the 23rd, they stationed in the prison.

I saw an officer; I thought he was military chief strategist. I don’t know him exactly. They came to our dormitory, and they went upstairs. Five men entered and went up as well, doing something on the upper floor. I knew something was happening, but I didn’t know exactly what they do. The soldiers came in and, we are afraid.

None of the women dared to make a sound or move. We don’t know what they were doing. We heard the military stationed in the prison. We don’t know where they stationed. It was in the first day. They also entered at night then, I heard moving shifting benches that female inmates slept. They stacked and organized these benches. Then, when the dormitory door was opened, and we are allowed to go outside, and we looked up and saw the upper floor and realized that they were setting up for shooting range.

I thought to myself, & quot; If they start shooting from up there, we’ll all be died. I felt like that in my mind”. Large weapons were positioned around the prison, with the biggest stationed inside.

I saw something as large as an adult’s two hands put together. Sandbags were stacked on the roof of the men’s dormitory, creating cover directly across from our women’s dormitory. Soldiers patrolled the prison grounds, constantly moving, and we lived in a state of perpetual fear.

Since the military was stationed at the prison, we stopped receiving food parcels from outside and were no longer allowed to meet visitors. We felt trapped and at constant risk, so I asked the jailer about our safety. He warned me, saying, “Soldiers surround the prison; it’s not safe for you. To be blunt, you’re at risk of being raped.”

The military council forces at the upper floors of the prison began firing heavy weapons, filling the air with the terrifying sounds of gunfire and explosions. For days, we lived in constant fear, surrounded by the relentless vibrations of heavy artillery.

When the shooting started, I could hear the blasts clearly. At first, there were two small children in our dormitory, they told us one time to cover the ears of the children when they tested the large heavy weapons. After that, they didn’t come and tell us, and the heavy weapons fire became constant.

I could hear the shots and the weapons being fired, though I couldn’t see where they were aiming. I could only hear voices around me, people whispering anxiously, “What will we do if there’s a full- blown battle? There’s nowhere safe to go.” Our dormitory was right in front of the shooting range. Our female inmate’s dormitory is only separated by a single wall with shooting range.

I felt deeply that this place was extremely dangerous. If a fight broke out, I though they will not continue to keep us here. When the real fighting began, there was no one to rely on, no place to hide, and no staff left to help us. Everyone was in a state of terror, screaming and crying, united in fear. I thought to myself, “Is this what it means to be a human shield?” Knowing full well that a battle was inevitable, they still left us here, over 400 prisoners including male inmates, with no way to escape. I couldn’t understand the cruelty the disregard for our lives but, I didn’t surprise their cruelty and let all the people die.

The only way we could protect ourselves was by covering ourselves with thin blankets, hoping they would shield us from the heavy weapons stationed on the top floor of the prison.

Our dormitory was also hit by heavy weaponry. Two girls, who were close to us, were struck and eventually died. They were hit in the morning and couldn’t get any medical treatment. I didn’t know who to turn to for help for the injured girls. Amid the chaos of fighting, it was impossible to know where the shots were coming from.

All we could do was hide. I retreated to a small corner, covering our face with a blanket, and we all huddled together, shielding our heads in fear. Broken glass scattered around us, and fragments showered down with each blast.

Though we weren’t hit directly, glass shards flew from every angle, so we tried to protect ourselves by wrapping our heads with blankets. The dormitory was in ruins, with debris falling from the upper floors, and there was hardly any safe spot left.

When another blast hit, everyone panicked, thinking our hiding place was no longer safe.

We started off together but ended up separating in the chaos. Some girls took shelter in the middle of the dormitory, near iron bars with a concrete block at the base, hoping the block would offer protection if they lay down beneath it. They hid in that corner, but the heavy weapon struck directly there.

Although they didn’t target us, the weapon was aimed at the guard office in the centre, but it veered off course, colliding and flying towards our dormitory. I believe it was an RPG; all I remember was seeing heavy iron projectile. The projectile landed on the stairs, rolling down to the ground and exploding in front of the dormitory, hitting those two girls. The blast created massive dust clouds, and I couldn’t fully process what had happened.

My ears rang painfully from the constant noise. We stuffed cotton in our ears to muffle the sounds, yet blood still trickled out due to the force of the blasts. One of the girls was hit in the head, while the other was injured in her thigh. They lay there, bleeding and helpless, right in front of me, and I felt powerless to do anything.

We looked at them, shouting desperately, “Someone help! These two girls are hurt!” Blood was pouring out, but there was only silence in response. We continued calling for help, one by one, until our voices gave out. Eventually, the military council forces fired shots to intimidate us into silence.

They shouted that they had orders to shoot and demanded that we stay quiet. When we heard gunfire, we were frightened again, and we didn’t dare to speak up. I couldn’t help but think that if they had received emergency treatment, they might have survived. After an entire day, they finally grew calm by evening, but I knew they died. That’s how we lost two of them.

Two others were injured, though their wounds weren’t as severe. One was hit on the hand, and the other on both legs. I used whatever I could find, even monthly pads, to stop the bleeding. I stayed in the same room with them, shared meals with them, and watched over them. It was heartbreaking to see the two who slept and ate beside me slowly fade away. That feeling was unbearable, which is why I don’t want to speak of it anymore.

Fortunately, she managed to escape the battle, but her two friends weren’t as lucky, lost amid the smoke and chaos of the fighting. The military council forces came and unlocked the door. They had to break the lock to get in, and by 11 p.m., they released us. A few people were scheduled to be transferred out of prison five women were called. Four of them had been imprisoned for 20 years, and the other was charged under unfair section- Section 17/1 of the so-called Arakha Army case. Once they were called, they knew they were being taken away.

As I stepped out of the prison, I saw the two girls who had been injured in the afternoon. They were completely still, lifeless. A deep sadness washed over me. What could anyone do for them now? The military council forces told us to carry the bodies of two girls.

Just imagine the women who had to carry the bodies of two friends who had endured the hardships of prison with them for so many days and months. Their helpless screams would echo through the midnight rain in the darkened city of Thandwe.

They asked us to carry them, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave them behind. So, we took the bodies with us. It was pitch black, with only a faint light from a phone and some moonlight piercing through the rain. We moved slowly in the dark. The military council forces followed us to the prison entrance but stopped there, leaving us to continue our own.

After walking about 100 steps, we reached the Thandwe post office, where a military outpost was stationed. Over 40 girls were crowded together, and there was some chatter “Hey, I’m struggling; someone help hold the bodies.” Suddenly, we heard six gunshots behind us. We thought they were shooting at us. Were they planning to kill us even after releasing us?

The bodies we carried were those of friends who had shared life and meals with us. We couldn’t just leave them. We thought that if we could place them somewhere visible, like near a hospital, someone might be able to give them a proper burial.

That thought kept us going as we carried the bodies.

But soon, we became too weak to continue. We were exhausted, sick, and hadn’t eaten for so long. Eventually, we couldn’t carry them any farther. Frightened by the sound of gunfire, we lost control of the bodies, fell on the ground. We sat down and we shot, “don’t shoot us. The prison just releases us”. We don’t know where to go. So, I laid them on the side of the road, wrapped in blankets, side by side. It was heartbreaking I didn’t want to leave them like that.

I wanted to give them the respect they deserved, but I simply couldn’t do any more. So, I asked for their forgiveness even though they couldn’t hear and left them there, in front of the post office.

I didn’t know where to go, so I left them there in front of the post office. I once read in a poem that people remember haunted nights more vividly than ordinary ones.

Ma Day Day is trying to forget the tragedies she endured as a human shield in prison, while tending to the wounds and illnesses that imprisonment left her with. She is struggling to rebuild her life as she heals from the trauma of her time
there.

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