For Loikaw’s displaced, dreams of returning vie with fears of being pursued by war

It has been three months since Mya Thidar was forced to flee her home in the Karenni State capital Loikaw, and the thought of having to run again fills her with dread. “I don’t ever want to do it again. My heart aches whenever I think about having to go somewhere else,” said the 36-year-old mother, who now lives near Taunggyi, the capital of Shan State, some 100 miles to the north. Mya Thidar is one of more than 50,000 Loikaw residents who had to leave everything behind in the middle of last November after anti-regime forces launched an offensive aimed at rooting out junta troops in a bid for control of the town. In response, the regime carried out a series of deadly airstrikes and artillery attacks over Loikaw’s residential wards, prompting a mass exodus to neighbouring Shan State. Smoke rises from buildings in downtown Loikaw following an attack by Myanmar’s military on January 26 (Jobs for Kayah) Most fled to junta-controlled townships in the southern part of the state, such as Taunggyi, Nyaungshwe, Aungban, and Kalaw, while others went as far as central Mandalay Region. Mya Thidar decided to take a refuge with her family in Hsihseng, a small town about halfway between Loikaw and Taunggyi, believing that the fighting in her hometown would soon ease and she would be able to return. For nearly two months, she and her family lived in the compound of a local church in a makeshift hut made of tarpaulin sheets. Then, in late January, anti-regime groups active in the area seized control of Hsihseng, triggering a fierce reaction from the regime. “When I saw a scout plane flying over the town, I knew a fighter jet would follow, because that was exactly what we experienced in Loikaw,” she recalled. “So we immediately packed our belongings and left.” Luckily, she was able to escape before the airstrikes on Hsihseng began on January 24. But it was no easy task for her to shift her family of four, including her 100-year-old father-in-law and seven-year-old son, without the help of her husband, who works abroad. After a three-hour drive from Hsihseng, she was able to find a safe place to shelter in Taunggyi Township, thanks to the hospitality of local Pa-O villagers, who offered her somewhere to stay free of charge. But even this good fortune did little to allay her anxiety. After being uprooted twice in just two months, the possibility that it could happen again still weighs heavily on her mind, she said. ‘Nowhere left to go’ “My son said he wants to go to school. But I’m hesitant because we are always on the alert. We never know when we might need to leave,” she said, adding that the constant worry has also taken a toll on her health. Her home for the moment is a peaceful village about a 30-minute drive from Taunggyi. It’s a good location, she said—close enough to the state’s largest city for her to easily access healthcare facilities and find better opportunities for her son’s education. But she quickly added that she would leave again without any hesitation if she had to. “I have no choice. If fighting breaks out here, we’ll have to move again. But there’s nowhere left to go. My father-in-law also cannot endure a long journey,” she said. Ayetharyar, a town located just west of Taunggyi, is where another family from Loikaw has found itself in these difficult times. Despite being relatively inexpensive, it is still not an easy place to live without a regular income—something that few of the displaced have been able to find. The town—sometimes referred to as “New Taunggyi”—has many amenities, including a highway bus terminal, industrial zone, and golf course. However, for those without a permanent place to stay, employment options are limited. “If we want to earn money, we have to resort to doing day labour, like working on a construction site or harvesting seasonal fruits,” said the 30-year-old head of a family of six from Loikaw now living in Ayetharyar. “My wife is going to give birth next month. We couldn’t afford the cost of a private hospital, so we’ve opted to go to the nearby military hospital,” he added. Cars are seen leaving Loikaw as residents flee the town following the outbreak of major fighting in November 2023 (CJ) The situation is equally precarious for those living in more remote areas. “I can only find manual labour jobs here, such as picking corn and sugarcane,” said a 25-year-old woman who has taken shelter at a monastery in Nyaungshwe Township. “I make just 6,000 kyat a day, and this work is not available every day. On average, my weekly income is around 18,000 kyat,” she added. At the current exchange rate, that gives her not much more than US$5 to live on per week. To earn more than that, she would have to go to the town of Nyaungshwe or Taunggyi, something she can’t contemplate under her current circumstances because it would mean leaving her elderly father alone at the monastery. “I need to make more money to cover the cost of my father’s medicine, but to do that I would have to go to Taunggyi or Naungshwe. I don’t even have the money to get there. But most importantly, I don’t want to leave my father alone here,” she said. Friends in need Some of the displaced have friends they can stay with, but they also have concerns about family members who, for one reason or another, are unable to live with them. One 29-year-old man who spoke to Myanmar Now said that his father and older sister both died during the Covid-19 pandemic. Since then, his mother has lived in Yangon with her grandchildren, while he stayed behind in Loikaw. “I didn’t want to be a burden, so I didn’t go to Yangon. At least my mother is in a safe place,” he said. When war broke out in Loikaw, he decided to flee, and now he lives with the family of a friend in Taunggyi. While his future is still clouded with uncertainty, he says he would like to open a small restaurant here to support himself. But that plan could change if he is summoned to join the army under a conscription law that the junta recently announced it would start enforcing to bolster its troop numbers after three years of relentless conflict. If that happens, he would go back to Loikaw, he said, without adding whether that meant joining the resistance forces there—something that many young people have contemplated since the regime made its announcement. Loikaw residents flee by motorcycle in November 2023 (CJ) A 46-year-old woman who is also staying with a friend in Taunggyi said that she regretted not being able to go with the rest of her family to the village in Mandalay Region where they are currently taking shelter. Doing so would have made it impossible for her to continue her work as an accountant, she said. “I need to continue to work here in order to support my family. Of course I’m worried about my parents, but it’s impossible to bring them here,” she said. She also spoke of returning to Loikaw—not to join the revolution, but to recover something of the life she had before all this upheaval began. “I wish I could go back home to Loikaw. But that’s all it is now, just a pure wish.”

For Loikaw’s displaced, dreams of returning vie with fears of being pursued by war

Three months after being forced to flee their homes, residents of the Karenni capital don’t know when they will be able to go back, or where they will end up next

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