By Chawadee Nualkhair
SUNGAI KOLOK, Thailand (Reuters) – Along with the
ubiquitous cans of soda and packets of noodles, the mom-and-pop
stores of violence-plagued southern Thailand are selling
tickets to a new life.
For 5 baht, the stubs of paper buy a 30-second boat ride
across a narrow river to Malaysia — the land of opportunity
for young Muslims wanting to escape 21 months of unrest in
Thailand’s three southernmost provinces.
As the death toll climbs above 900 and the local economy
collapses, young Muslims see little point in staying behind to
get caught up in an increasingly dirty guerrilla conflict
between separatist militants and more than 30,000 soldiers and
police.
“People here worry about three things. Where will the
authorities arrest me? When should I leave? How will I die?”
said Abdulrahman Abdulsahad, president of the Islamic Council
of Narathiwat province, 750 miles south of Bangkok.
The fear is taking its toll on youngsters in Narathiwat and
the neighboring provinces of Yala and Pattani, once an
independent sultanate where Muslims now say they feel like
second-class citizens.
“I am definitely going to move,” said Sobri, a 22-year-old
Muslim university student in Pattani who wants to further his
studies in Malaysia. “If you don’t agree with the government,
you are their enemy.”
The mainly Buddhist administration in Bangkok has poured
troops into the region, where 80 percent of the 1.8 million
population are Muslim, ethnic Malay and non-Thai speaking, but
has failed to halt the daily bombings and shootings.
The presence of so many Buddhist troops is also fueling
local Muslim resentment, leading to fears they are actually
exacerbating the situation, rather than calming it.
“It’s like the government has two kids: one who is good in
school and one who has been naughty,” said Fakhruddin Boto, a
Muslim senator in Narathiwat.
“If you constantly reprimand the naughty boy, tell him he
is worthless, what will that naughty boy turn out to be when he
grows up?”
SLIPPING ABROAD
For many Muslims, the rules to staying alive are simple but
stifling — do not eat at a restaurant or tea shop frequented
by the police or soldiers; be wary of venturing out at night
after evening prayers; arrange weddings and funerals for
daylight hours.
For some, however, such precautions are not enough.
Last month, a group of 131 Muslims, half of them women and
children, sparked a diplomatic row with Kuala Lumpur when they
fled to northern Malaysia seeking refuge from what they said
was persecution by Thai security forces.
Bangkok denies its army or police would ever intimidate
Muslims, but such a large exodus exposed the reality that some
southern Muslims feel scared enough to seek political asylum.
No one knows how many others have slipped quietly over the
notoriously porous border to a new life in Malaysia, but the
problem appears widespread.
“Many of my students are leaving,” said Abdulrahman, the
Narathiwat religious leader.
SINGING A NEW TUNE
Sobri, an economics major who used to live in Bangkok, play
in a rock band and drink alcohol, felt his world turning upside
down the day he visited the grieving relatives of dozens of
Muslims who died in army custody last year.
It was one of the bloodiest incidents in the conflict.
Security forces fired on Muslim protesters, killing seven
people and detaining hundreds more, stacking them like logs in
the back of army trucks for the long journey to an army base.
During the trip, 78 Muslims died of suffocation.
Since then, Sobri has cut his hair and is singing a new
tune.
“If I didn’t have my education, my schooling to fall back
on, yes, absolutely, I would pick up a gun and fight,” he said
during a night out with friends at a tea shop on the outskirts
of Pattani, a provincial capital.
“If they’re pointing a gun at me and threatening to shoot,
do you think I should give them flowers? That’s crazy.”
Like many of his peers, Sobri, who would not give his full
name for fear of persecution by police, says leaving is the
only option in a society that is slowly but surely falling
apart.
“The rift is not between Buddhists and Muslims,” said
27-year-old Amin, who helps run a youth development program in
Pattani. “It’s more of a lack of trust between authorities and
the people who live here.”
Patchiya Pimanman, who runs an Islamic school in
Narathiwat, is more blunt: “Do you want to stop the unrest? Get
rid of the soldiers.”
Others, however, are determined to stay. Fah, a 21-year-old
Muslim university student, wants to become a civil servant.
“I do get frustrated sometimes. When I watch the news, I
want to scream. They are always exaggerating and reporting
propaganda,” she said. “But Pattani is my home, regardless of
what happens.”
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