Rohingya leader Mohib Ullah Killing: Where shall we seek justice?
Rohingya leader Mohib Ullah came home in Lambashia camp in Ukhia after his Esha prayers on Wednesday night. His wife, Nasima, asked him whether he wanted to eat something.
Mohib nodded and smiled as he went to change his clothes. Nasima then gave him three rotis with some curry, and a fruit. As he finished his dinner, Nasima gave him a betel leaf.
Mohib, the leading voice for the rights of Rohingya people, would be assassinated in less than 10 minutes next to their home.
"We don't want justice. Where shall we seek justice?" Nasima asked between sobs as she spoke to the correspondents inside the tiny bamboo shack where Mohib lived with Nasima, their eight children, and his elderly mother.
These correspondents waited for an hour to meet Nasima amid tight security measures by the Armed Police Battalion.
The woman in her early 40s was wearing a traditional Rakhine dress covering half her face. Their eldest daughter Shamima soon joined her. The grieving mother and daughter looked scared.
Sitting in the poorly-lit room with little ventilation and no fan, Nasima said she saw three of the gunmen. They were young, wearing lungi and had no face coverings.
"I don't know any of them… They were wielding the guns," said Nasima.
Born in 1974, Mohib Ullah was the chairman of the Arakan Rohingya Society for Peace and Human Rights. He was shot dead around 8:30pm on Wednesday inside his bamboo-fenced office.
The 30 feet by 10 feet office, which is just steps away from the house, was under lock and key yesterday.
Recalling the fateful evening, Nasima said soon after his dinner, some of Mohib's followers came to see him. They were talking to him standing in front of the house.
Mohib told his followers that good days were coming as repatriation could take place soon and every Rohingya should be ready to go to Myanmar, said Nasima.
Mohib then asked them to go to the office to continue the conversation.
"In just five minutes, I heard the gunshots. I thought it was from the main street [around 100 feet away from the house]."
Eighteen-year-old Shamima then stepped outside and saw people running here and there.
She was about to go to Mohib's office when she fell to the ground after an unknown man kicked her, she said.
"I stood up and entered the office only to see my father lying on the floor in a pool of blood. I lifted his head up. His mouth was open and eyes closed."
Nasima then said there were around 10-12 people with her husband, but they ran away after the gunmen opened fire.
None of Mohib's followers came forward to take Mohib to the hospital even after the assailants were gone, she alleged.
Mohib believed that no Rohingya would ever harm him, she said.
"He had confidence and trust in his community because he fought for them throughout his life."
Mohib spent most of his time for the community rather than his family, she said, he was a meritorious student and completed graduation from Akyab College in Myanmar.
"I studied upto class eight. I am from a town called Akyab. When he went there for higher studies, he came into close contact with our family and we got married."
After the Myanmar government restricted the movement of Rohingyas in Akyab, they could no longer go there.
"My parents are still there. I have no relatives here [in the refugee camp] from my side."
Mohib was a Rohingya leader in Myanmar, but the international recognition came after they travelled to Bangladesh.
"None of our family members or his brothers are capable [of being leaders]. I will not take any leadership role."
At this point, Shamima said, "We want nothing but safety. We want the safety of my family. We don't want justice. I want my father's dream to be fulfilled."
As these correspondents were leaving, Mohib's eight-year-old daughter Afnan was seen looking for her father, peeping into her father's office.
"Where has my father gone? When would he come back?" asked the mentally challenged girl.
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