Written by Maung Maung (Shwe Keraweik) and translated by Dr. Ko Ko Gyi.
This chapter captures the immediate, terrifying aftermath of the violence and your group’s courageous efforts to rescue displaced school children. The edit cleans up the phrasing, corrects grammatical errors, and enhances the emotional weight of the narrative while maintaining absolute historical accuracy.
CHAPTER 5: The Morning After the Massacre and the Rescue of the Innocent
On the morning after the brutal Meiktila Massacre, a member of the Sa Ah Pha (Military Intelligence) rang me up to inform me that Galoneni Sayardaw U Karwiya wished to see me immediately.
Walking Into the Hornet’s Nest
U Than Nyunt from our Garana organization and I went directly to the monastery. Upon arrival, we noticed a massive gathering of monks, and the tension in the air was palpable. Sensing the volatile mood of the crowd and fearing their anger, U Than Nyunt quietly slipped away to avoid trouble. However, because I had historically maintained strong, respectful relations with the monastic community, I decided to stay, hoping my rapport would protect me.
Among the crowd was the “Kung Fu Monk,” leading a large contingent of radical “969” monks. The moment I entered and took my seat, the monks took turns aggressively berating and blaming the Muslim community. For thirty agonizing minutes, I sat silently through a barrage of angry tirades and verbal attacks: “You Kalars did this, you Kalars did that…” I had to consciously absorb the scolding without a single word of rebuttal. I knew that even a minor argument or defense on my part would cause the entire room to explode into violence.
Only after their angry outburst had finally run its course did I respectfully make a request:
“It has already happened. Please, I kindly urge you to help us control the situation so the violence does not spread to other towns and villages.”
I only dared to ask this because, with the exception of the radical “969” faction, many of the elder monks present had worked alongside us in the trenches since the 1988 democracy movement.
The monks listened and responded that they needed a car—without an accompanying Muslim driver—to travel to Meiktila for the funeral of Sayardaw U Thawbita, who had been tragically killed the previous day. I consulted our group and immediately arranged a vehicle. The Military Intelligence agent volunteered to drive it, but still demanded that we cover the fuel costs. One of our community business owners, Ko Kyaw Htwe, generously provided 30,000 Kyat for the petrol.
Furthermore, my colleagues advised me to hand 500,000 Kyat to Galoneni Sayardaw U Karwiya and U Withuta from the Yetaw monastery to contribute toward the burial fees. We did this despite knowing full well that the Mandalay Division Government would end up footing the bill. In Myanmar, there is an old saying: “Win over their hearts and minds by giving.” We needed to secure their cooperation at all costs to preserve the peace.
Tragic Conditions at the Police Station
Back in Mandalay, we were operating completely in the dark. We had no concrete updates on the civilian population inside Meiktila, and we knew that the young students from the Mingala Zeyyone Islamic boarding school who had been placed at the Meiktila police station were in extreme danger.
They were being held inside the compound without proper clothing, food, or medical care for the injured. The physical security around the perimeter fence was practically non-existent—consisting of just two lines of barbed wire haphazardly strung together. Worse, the station was guarded by only two or three police officers armed with nothing but solid bamboo batons. Outside the fence, Buddhist extremists rode by on motorbikes, shouting vulgar abuse and freely throwing sticks and stones at the terrified children trapped inside.
These were not local Meiktila children; they were outstation students from various regions. Realizing their vulnerability, we approached the relevant authorities in Mandalay, pleading with them to evacuate the children.
We tried endlessly to communicate with the Mandalay Division Government, but they completely stonewalled us, refusing to even grant an appointment. When we approached the police, they claimed they were powerless to act without explicit government orders. When we turned to the military, they dismissively replied that they could not interfere in civilian affairs.
Desperate to protect the children, we approached UNICEF. The representatives informed us that they could potentially request an evacuation escort from the military, but warned that it would be highly expensive—estimating a cost of around 10,000,000 Kyat (10 million). They asked if we could afford it. Our Mandalay committee immediately replied that money was absolutely no obstacle; they were prepared to pay 10 million Kyat or far more if it meant securing the children’s freedom. While I personally could not afford such a massive sum, my wealthy friends backed me completely, telling me to focus entirely on the logistics of the rescue mission while they handled the finances.
Tragically, by that evening, UNICEF reached back out to inform us that their attempts to secure military assistance had failed. Meanwhile, some of my friends were desperately trying to contact Prime Minister U Ye Myint directly to secure permission to properly bury the dead children in Meiktila and safely release the survivors.
The Intercession of the Elders
Later that night, we received an urgent message from Sayardaw U Khaemarsara of the Maha Myat Muni Pagoda Central Monastery, requesting our presence. Sayardaw U Khaemarsara was the highly respected chief abbot to both the Galoneni Sayardaw and U Withuta. He was a veteran political ally who had stood firmly with us since 1988 and had always allowed us to use his monastery for civil and political activities.
I went to meet him alongside Khalifa U Thein Win Aung’s group and our comrade, former political prisoner Ko Zarni.
Upon our arrival, the Sayardaw informed us that he wished to immediately dispatch an emergency relief convoy to Meiktila loaded with donated rice, Myanmar toast biscuits (mont-kyut), instant noodles, and mineral water. He asked us to arrange a vehicle to transport five monks.
Seizing this window of hope, Khalifa U Thein Win Aung and I fell to our knees and begged the Sayardaw to use this mission to rescue the trapped children. We explained that because the children were from out of town, their frantic parents were losing their minds with worry. Sayardaw U Khaemarsara listened intently, agreed to the mission, and promised to do everything in his power. However, he noted that a mere five monks would not carry enough authority to pull off a rescue in a riot zone—he needed a force of at least 50 monks.
Our Mandalay team moved at lightning speed. We organized a large fleet of vehicles to accommodate all 50 monks and fully stocked the convoy with early morning breakfast, lunch, and mountain loads of emergency food rations and water. By 5:00 AM the next morning, a massive convoy of 15 cars departed for Meiktila.
I stayed behind in Mandalay to coordinate the logistics of the arriving survivors (and if I am completely honest, I was also deeply terrified of entering the riot zone). Khalifa U Thein Win Aung, however, bravely ignored our repeated warnings about the mortal danger and joined the convoy. Ko Nyi Nyi Kyaw and a courageous group from the “Old Student Comrades” followed closely behind them. When we ran short of vehicles, our Buddhist friend Ko Zarni and several other Buddhist merchants from the Zeycho market selflessly stepped forward to provide their own personal cars to complete the rescue fleet.
Despite our frantic efforts, a heavy cloud of doubt hung over my mind. Given the state’s complicity and the sheer scale of the hatred we were fighting, I harbored very little real hope that the children would make it out alive.
“We Have the Children!”
The following morning at around 9:30 AM, my phone rang. It was Sayardaw U Withuta calling directly from Meiktila. His voice cut through the static:
“Dagargyi U Maung Maung, go and wait at the Tada-U toll-gate right now. We managed to rescue them—we are coming out with the children!”
An overwhelming wave of joy washed over me. We immediately relayed the miraculous news to the rest of the community. U Than Nyunt, U Aye Ko, and I rushed to the Tada-U toll-gate to await their arrival.
As the news spread like wildfire through Mandalay, overjoyed residents flooded my phone with calls, begging us to bring the rescued students to their local mosques so they could shelter them. However, after a tense committee discussion, we decided against bringing them directly into the heart of Mandalay. We feared that if our traumatized people saw the horrific physical condition of these children and heard their firsthand accounts of the slaughter, they would lose control of their emotions, potentially sparking retaliatory riots in Mandalay.
To prevent further bloodshed, we arranged a secure, private location for the children to rest, bathe, and eat at a mosque in Tabetswe village, located about 10 miles outside of Mandalay.
Just after 1:00 PM, the rescue convoy arrived at the Tada-U gate. The students were packed into three Dyna pickup trucks, heavily escorted by a police vehicle at the front, another at the rear, and led by a motorcycle traffic officer.
The Kyaukse police force waiting at the toll-gate formally handed over 64 students, 5 teachers, and 6 family members directly into my custody. The commanding officer asked, “What are your arrangements for them, U Maung?” We immediately proceeded with our plan, escorting the trucks to the Tabetswe village mosque. The police and local authorities followed us to maintain security and systematically register the survivors’ detailed personal data.
The Trauma of the Survivors
Before long, Muslim religious leaders and frantic parents from Mandalay arrived at the village. The reunion was heartbreaking. Upon seeing their children, several parents collapsed, while others hyperventilated into severe hysterical spasms and cramps. They were treated on-site by Dr. Myint Oo, who ran a general practice clinic in Paleik.
We immediately handed the children over to their rightful guardians, requiring the parents to sign a solemn declaration form verifying their identities. For those children whose parents could not make it to the village in time, we temporarily transferred custody to the nearest trusted families.
The children were in a state of profound psychological shock. They were so utterly terrified of the police and the crowds that they actively refused medical treatment and were deeply reluctant to even uncover their wounds for inspection.
Several young boys steadfastly refused to take off their shirts to let us treat their backs because they were terrified of being identified as victims. When we gently coaxed them, we uncovered horrific injuries—one young child had four deep, jagged slash wounds across his back.
Separately, Khalifa U Thein Win Aung successfully executed another parallel rescue mission, safely extracting a group of teachers and students from a different religious school in the area.
To be continued…
