Myanmar's army vowed a ceasefire after the earthquake. I saw them break it repeatedly

In Myanmar, a powerful earthquake struck at the end of March, registering a magnitude of 7. 7. This natural disaster resulted in the tragic loss of at least 3,700 lives. Following this catastrophic event, the ruling military junta announced a ceasefire, intending to halt its ongoing military operations. However, despite this declaration, the junta repeatedly violated the ceasefire, continuing its attacks on various regions. I had the opportunity to enter the rebel-controlled areas of Karenni state, where I spent ten days witnessing the daily violations committed by the military. These included rocket and mortar strikes that resulted in injuries and fatalities among both civilians and resistance fighters. One poignant story I encountered was that of Khala, a 45-year-old father who was killed by a military airstrike in a location that his wife, Mala, believed to be safe. When the ceasefire was declared on April 2, Mala and Khala saw a chance to return to their village, Pekin Coco, for the first time in years. They traveled with their four-year-old son, Zoe, only to find their home abandoned and in ruins due to prolonged fighting. Most villagers had fled to safer farmland, away from the military's reach. Just as they were about to leave Pekin Coco again, artillery shelling began. Mala recounted, 'We were all at the front of the house. Then, shells landed near us. We hid at the back of the house. But he [Khala] stayed where he was. ' Tragically, an artillery shell exploded near Khala, taking his life in a place he thought was safe. Mala, who was seven months pregnant at the time, returned to a displaced persons camp, mourning the loss of her husband. Her son, Zoe, clung to her side, missing his father deeply. Before the earthquake, Myanmar was already embroiled in a civil war, with ethnic groups and young insurgents rising against decades of military rule and oppression. Since the military coup in 2021, tens of thousands of people have lost their lives, including many children. The United Nations reported that the earthquake exacerbated the situation, pushing an additional two million people into need, while 2. 5 million were already displaced before the quake. Karenni state, where I visited, is located far from the earthquake's epicenter. Its remote location offers both advantages and challenges. The dense jungle provides cover for those opposing military rule, but the poor road conditions make travel difficult, and the main highways remain within the military's artillery range. Most of the state is now under the control of rebel and ethnic armed groups. On March 28, when the earthquake struck, there were no reported deaths in Karenni, but hospitals quickly filled with patients suffering from spinal and crush injuries. A massive sinkhole appeared in the forests around Demoso, and locals initially thought it was another airstrike. The aftershocks continued for weeks, causing the sinkhole to expand. The United Nations noted that the Myanmar military continued its operations even after the earthquake and beyond the ceasefire, calling for an end to these actions. The ruling junta, known as the State Administration Council, has not commented on the alleged violations but claims to have been attacked by resistance groups. During the ceasefire, both sides in the conflict reserved the right to respond if attacked. During my ten days in Mobeye, Karenni, I witnessed daily attacks by the junta. I met a young fighter named Stefano, who was 23 years old and fighting against the military dictatorship with the Karenni Nationalities Defence Force (KNDF). He explained that the military continued its attacks 'using all means' during the ceasefire, including soldiers on the ground, drones, and jets. 'They usually attack with drones and heavy artillery on this side. When it rains, they advance by taking advantage of the weather,' he said. Stefano dismissed the ceasefire as a 'joke,' stating, 'We did not believe the military council from the beginning. We don't believe it now, and we won't believe it in the future. ' The day after our conversation, the military launched a full-scale assault with heavy weapons, targeting rebel positions. As we approached the front lines, we could hear small-arms fire and mortar strikes nearby. The ground was marked with fresh impacts from armed drones. I came across the body of a junta fighter who had attempted to breach the rebel lines. The resistance forces claimed they had suspended all offensive activities during the ceasefire but would respond if attacked. Yi Shui, the commander of another resistance group, the Karenni National Army, shared images on his phone, stating, 'When we saw them, we shot them. One of them got hit. ' The military's rockets were not only aimed at resistance fighters; they also struck farmland, resulting in the death of a 60-year-old woman. We visited fields where four rockets had landed, and children were playing with the bent metal and shrapnel from the strikes. The injured were taken to local hospitals, which were hidden deep in the jungle to avoid airstrikes from military planes. In one hospital, a young fighter was being treated for a shrapnel wound to his shoulder and was losing a lot of blood. The doctor in charge, Thi Ha Tun, who was 32 years old, reported treating around a dozen patients for war-related injuries since the ceasefire was declared. Two of the patients, who were resistance fighters, unfortunately, died. The doctor dismissed the junta's claims, stating, 'They only care about their own interests. ' He believed the only solution was to continue fighting. High on a hilltop in the rebel-controlled areas stood the church of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, which had suffered damage from the earthquake. The church's steeple and part of the roof had collapsed, and repairs were underway, but it would likely need to be rebuilt entirely. The community continued to feel aftershocks weeks later. Father Philip, the local priest, expressed that the greatest threat to his congregation, many of whom were displaced by the war, came from above rather than below. 'No place is safe. When we have jet fighters flying in the sky… you never know what will come falling from the sky,' he said. Back at the Mobeye front, Stefano and his comrades spent their time between attacks cleaning their weapons and singing songs. 'I can hear the people's prayers, cries, and cries. We will overthrow the dictatorship,' they sang in unison. They believed that the only ceasefire they could trust would come with the junta's defeat. The ceasefire was set to end at the end of the month, but for most people in the area, it felt as if it had never existed at all.