Sam Sam burst into tears when asked to narrate the circumstances that compelled her to become an internally displaced person (IDP). She pointed to clothes and utensils in her single-room thatched hut, the only things she could carry while fleeing her village. Then, she pulled out a tattered photograph from a bag.

“This was our home,” she said, pointing to the sprawling house in the photograph. “I never imagined that we would end up at a refugee camp someday.”

On February 6, 2024, the Myanmar military torched Kyar Ma Thout village in Sittwe township in Myanmar’s Rakhine State. It has burned down several other settlements in the area in order to deprive the Arakan Army (AA) of a base in the city’s suburbs.

Sittwe, the capital of Rakhine State and a military hub that houses the Regional Operations Command (ROC), is among three of 17 townships in the state that remain under the military’s control. By emptying its suburbs, the military is hoping to secure its control of the city and surrounding areas.

When Kyar Ma Thout was burnt by the military, most of its 650 residents, including Sam Sam, her husband, and two children, fled for safety in the areas under the control of the AA. About a third of the village’s residents, including a sizable number of elderly and disabled people, settled in monasteries in Sittwe city.

Sam Sam and ten other families from Kyar Ma Thout landed at the Old Kran Khun IDP Camp in Ponnagyun township about 80 kilometers to the north of Sittwe. The township was captured by the AA in mid-March of 2024 after weeks of fierce fighting with the military.

Their journey to the camp was perilous and involved travelling on the Kaladan River as well. With the arrival of IDPs from Sittwe, the camp’s population swelled to 1,643.

Old Kran Khun camp is one of 93 IDP camps scattered across AA-held areas. An estimated 100,000 people live in these camps, as per data compiled by the AA’s political wing, the United League of Arakan (ULA). Another 100,000 are sheltering in monasteries and in the homes of their relatives. Those numbers could not be confirmed independently.

On February 8 this year, I visited the Old Kran Khun camp located 150 meters north of the highway between Ponnagyun and Kyauktaw. The mood there was heavy with sorrow and quiet desperation. There were around 400 huts in the camp. These were cramped and identical shelters built of straw, bamboo, and tarpaulin. The IDPs staying here are struggling to cope with myriad problems, including the loss of their traditional livelihoods, neighborhood networks, and support systems.

Riches to Rags

Maung Tin Hla is an affluent businessman from Ma Jay Mying (Ward No. 3) in Sittwe city. He owned five acres of land on the city’s outskirts, which was cultivated throughout the year and provided him with additional income.

Since the military’s offensives were directed at villages surrounding Sittwe, Ma Jay Mying had little reason to believe that the gun would be pointed at households like his own that were inside the city. But everything changed on March 16, 2024, when the military began targeting some localities and burning houses inside Sittwe.

Several people were arrested on suspicion of being AA functionaries. “We heard that the Arakan Liberation Party, which has joined hands with the military, had provided the military with information about some households. And I got the feeling that my name was also on the list,” Maung Tin Hla recalled.

On March 17, Maung Tin Hla began frenzied preparations to leave the village around midnight after a young man in his mid-20s was killed by the military near his residence. He hit the escape trail to the AA’s area of control with his wife and son and seven bags containing gold ornaments, money, clothes, and utensils.

After a grueling 90-km journey that lasted five days, the family reached the IDP camp in Ponnagyun township. Maung Tin Hla then purchased materials needed to build a thatched hut to shelter his family. He then arranged for food and water in the camp.

“I had around 1 million kyats (around U.S. $476), but this lasted just for a month. Then we began selling the gold ornaments. Almost half of the total amount I brought from home has been exhausted,” Maung Tin Hla said. “We can last for another year by selling whatever is left.”

Fishermen among the IDPs have been catching fish from the nearby Kaladan River and selling them for a livelihood. Others gather firewood, bamboo, and vegetables from the hills, which they consume themselves or sell in the camp and neighboring villages. But Maung Tin Hla is neither a fisherman nor is he adept at climbing the hills to gather food and firewood. His wife is busy all day with household chores and takes care of their 7-year-old son, who is enrolled in Grade 1 at a school about 2 km from the camp.

“So far, I have not been able to identify any source of income that will sustain my family,” Maung Tin Hla said. He is keeping his “fingers crossed and is hopeful of returning home soon.”

There are many like Maung Tin Hla in the Old Kran Khun camp, who have similar riches-to-rags stories to share. Their houses were either burnt by the military or destroyed by shelling. Forced to flee their villages, they are now sheltering in the IDP camp and are foraging forests and hills for food and firewood.

Hills Emerge as a Savior

The daily itinerary in the IDP camp is dictated by scarcity. Long before sunrise, residents begin preparations to search for food and livelihood. Many embark on an 8-km trek to the hills that lie to the west of the camp.  They return by noon with whatever vegetables and firewood they could lay their hands on.

For Maung Aye Tun and his 14-year-old son, going to the hills has been a daily routine ever since they arrived at the camp from Mrit Nar village in Sittwe township two years ago, after it was burned by the military. “The hills are getting depleted owing to the unrestrained scavenging by camp inmates over the past three years,” he lamented.

“Now more effort is required to gather vegetables and firewood compared to the situation two years ago.  We have to go deeper into the hills every day. And there is no certainty that the same quantity of food and firewood can be fetched daily,” Maung Aye Tun said. Alarmed over the rapid deforestation of the hills, the ULA imposed restrictions five months ago on logging.

The daily expenditure on food alone for Maung Aye Tun’s family of four, including his wife and two children, is around 60,000 kyats. But his daily income from selling vegetables and firewood sometimes does not exceed 10,000 kyats. Whatever is earned is mostly spent on buying foodgrains.

During the rainy season, which extends from April to September, the availability of food in the hills drops, and there is excess firewood in the camp but not enough buyers in the rest of the year. Almost every third hut in the camp has bundles of chopped logs placed at the entrance waiting to be sold.

Larger households are able to send some of their family members to markets in the neighboring villages, where the scope of selling commodities at a higher price is brighter. But there have been times when the markets remain shut for days on end after airstrikes or shelling in neighboring areas.  This has eaten into the income and reduced food consumption for every household.

One Meal a Day

During my stay at the Old Kran Khun IDP camp, I came across three households for whom two square meals per day or being able to add vegetables to rice was a luxury.

Oo Tin Nyunt (75) is a widow without children, who was displaced from Kran Daw village in Sittwe township when it was bulldozed and then torched by the military in August 2025. She reached the IDP camp with the assistance of her neighbors who were also headed to the same camp. Except for 80,000 kyats, Oo Tin Nyunt had nothing else that could have helped sustain her in the camp. She survived on donations from two NGOs and the ULA till the end of last year.

She is currently dependent on assistance from other households in the camp. She is too frail to gather food from the hills. Neither can she work as a daily wager.

When I asked her about her plans, Oo Tin Nyunt stared for a few seconds and then, with a smile, said: “It’s one day at a time for me. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow.”

The uncertainty looming over the IDP camps is also due to the reduced supply of foodgrains by NGOs and the ULA.

“There are more than 50 NGOs that offered assistance to the IDP camps in the liberated zone. But support has never matched the requirements. Funding from global organizations has decreased drastically over the past year owing to many factors, including the crackdown on the networks that remitted funds,” said Hla Nwe, an official with the Humanitarian and Development Coordination Office (HDCO) under the ULA.

Wong Myint, who heads an NGO, confirmed that funding from global organizations has diminished substantially.

The difficult situation has prompted some camp inmates hailing from Ponnagyun township to return to their fields for cultivation.

Owing to continuous shelling by the military, Nyein Nyein Tun and her family of five were forced to leave Kyay Thoe village in late 2024. Her husband could not work as a daily wager or trek to the hills for firewood and vegetables as he was injured from the shelling.

For almost the whole of last year, the family subsisted on one meal a day and was entirely dependent on assistance from other organizations. Last year, after recovering from his injury, Nyein Nyein Tun’s husband decided to follow others from Ponnagyun township who had returned to cultivating foodgrains in their fields. This required him to live in the fields about 50 km north of the camp for two months, and to return again for the harvest five months later.

However, the harvest last year was not very encouraging for these farmers, Nyein Nyein Tun said. “We are hopeful of a better situation this year if the selling price of foodgrains does not drop sharply. And then we can afford two meals every day.”

Struggle for Water

All the IDP camps in Ponnagyun township suffer from a shortage of water. The groundwater level in the township is lower than in the adjoining regions. Water levels in the wells dug in the camp and the two ponds nearby fall sharply during the winter months.

According to a ULA functionary, water in the area around the camp is available at a depth of 600 feet. To dig functional wells, mechanical equipment is needed, but this is not easily available.

Between December and April each year, every household in the camp has to fetch water from the Kaladan River, located 500 meters away. This is difficult for the elderly, especially those who do not have younger relatives to assist them. Therefore, they must manage with small amounts of water every day.

Last year, with the assistance of the ULA, an NGO installed five large-sized water storage tanks at the camp. Previously, trucks were used to ferry water from the river, but their services came to a halt early this year when funds from global organizations shrank.

In addition to the water shortage, IDP camps have to make do with water that has a tinge of turbidity, whether it is from the river or from wells and water bodies. NGO activists claimed that facilities for filtration of water have been provided in a few IDP camps, but the demand is far too high. More funds and equipment are needed to cover more camps.

Myo Aung, who recovered five months ago from skin ailments due to contaminated water, said that while some households boil the water for drinking, “many do not.” “Water is the source of most diseases in the camp,” he said. Besides skin diseases, inmates suffer from diarrhea and malaria during the rainy season. There were two deaths in the camp due to illnesses over the past three years.

A doctor at a health unit run by the ULA in a village about a kilometer from the IDP camp diagnoses patients and prescribes medicines. But medicines are not always readily available as they are imported from different sources, including India and Bangladesh.

An Exception With the Handloom

The battle for survival in the IDP camps has prompted some residents to devise ingenious means to earn a steady income. Ma Mya Oo journeyed from her home in Padetha village in Ponnagyun township with her family of six members sometime in the middle of last year. The village was evacuated after it was shelled, resulting in the death of one and injuries to four others.

Ma Mya Oo was an established weaver of traditional shawls and skirts, which she sold at shops in Ponnagyun and Kyauktaw. During the relocation from her village located 60 km east of the camp, the family could carry only necessities, like clothes and utensils. The raw materials for her handloom products were left behind in the village. Thankfully, these were not destroyed in the shelling.

“Three months after arriving in the camp, I decided to install the loom at our hut in the camp. This was necessary for additional income as my husband’s earnings as a daily wager were erratic,” Ma Mya Oo said.  She then made two trips to her village and transported the materials for the handloom back to the camp. “Only the foot pedals for the loom had to be chiseled from wood in the camp,” she said.

The work soon began, and the first shawl woven in the IDP camp rolled out in November last year. Five more followed in the next couple of months. “This is much less than what was produced at home,” Ma Mya Oo said. Besides, the quality of the shawls fell, as did their price.

Subsequently, Ma Mya Oo helped another woman from Kyaukhyu, who was also a weaver, install a handloom in the camp. However, since not all the materials were easily available, production proved challenging.

Similar to Ma Mya Oo’s case was that of an artisan from Sittwe, who carves figurines out of materials like wood.  Small pieces of chopped logs were stacked outside his thatched hut in the camp. He had finished carving three figurines depicting a boat and elephants.

A Third of All Children Have Opted Out of School

Anxiety and sorrow are writ large among the inmates in the Kyar Ma Thout camp over an uncertain future. This is most discernible among the parents of children who do not go to school. They would like their children to study, but difficult circumstances force parents to send children to work. Around a fourth of all inmates in the camp are children, and one-third of them have opted out of school.

As I strolled around the camp, I met some teenagers engaged in fetching water, slicing logs, and selling vegetables and firewood. Many of these youngsters belong to smaller households with fewer members, where their contribution to family income is vital.

Instead of being in classrooms, their daily curriculum is shaped by the exigencies of survival in a hostile environment. As a middle-aged father of a 15-year-old hailing from Sittwe said, “We cannot afford to send our son to school. That could change only with better sources of livelihood.”

The ULA has slashed the fees in schools it runs to enable impoverished parents to educate their children. Last year, several NGOs worked on persuading parents to send their children, but the results were hardly encouraging. Only four families reportedly agreed to admit their children to a school; the rest remained unconvinced.

Besides financial reasons, at least 20 children have dropped out of school for fear of airstrikes. They are mostly from villages in Ponnagyun and Sittwe townships that were devastated by airstrikes and shelling. The trauma of being nearly killed and uprooted from their homes is deeply etched in their memories. It has impacted many facets of the lives of children.

Sitting Ducks for Airstrikes

On October 4-5 this year, at least eight IDPs were killed and 13 others injured during airstrikes on two separate IDP camps in Ponnagyun Township. There have been several such military’s attacks on IDP camps in the region. The ULA has claimed that 16 IDPs were killed and more than 40 injured over the last couple of years across Rakhine in aerial attacks before the recent airstrikes in Ponnagyun. The figures could not be independently verified.

Many IDPs in the region, therefore, suffer from trauma and phobia about aerial attacks. Khin Maung, who was displaced from Che Lay Than village in Sittwe in the middle of last year, said that such fears among IDPs have been compounded by the lack of trenches in the camp. “The fear is so high that some IDPs rush out of their huts with their children whenever a rumble is heard,” he said. He recalled a “stampede-like situation” at the camp on the evening of January 19 when the sound of fighter jets was heard. Fearing that the IDP camp would be targeted, people rushed out of the camp and stayed outside for the whole night.

There is no space to dig trenches in the Old Kran Khun camp. I saw only three small trenches in the entire camp in the narrow spaces between the thatched huts. Usually, children are made to take cover in them whenever there is apprehension of aerial attacks. Two families had dug trenches inside their huts, and these were covered with wooden planks.

Many dwellings in the camp have long bamboo poles with hooks that are attached to the huts. I was told that in the event of an airstrike, these poles would be quickly used to pull down a burning chunk of thatch to prevent the whole hut from being incinerated.

Last year, the Old Kran Khun camp committee proposed to dig trenches in the vicinity of the settlement. However, accommodating 1,643 people required a large number of trenches. Digging them would involve a huge amount of time and labor. Consequently, the proposal has remained unimplemented so far.

As Sam Sam noted, “Survival in an IDP camp hinges on luck ultimately. Many things have to work out correctly all the time for the inmates to survive.”