The Hopeless Heat Along the Kaladan River

By Admin 20 May 2026

Written By Maung May Yu (Buthidaung)

A pregnant woman, around 40 years old, sat quietly on a motorboat with a deeply exhausted expression on her face. Beside her were a 10-year-old girl, a 7-year-old boy, a 4-year-old girl, and a small puppy. Their clothes were worn and dirty, and it did not appear that they even had enough money for the journey ahead. Although there were many other passengers on the boat, this family stood out in a way that naturally drew attention.

The pregnant woman stared silently into the distance, her eyes filled with tears if one looked closely enough. It was obvious that something unresolved and painful weighed heavily on her mind. Not only she, but even the children wore expressions drained of hope. As usual, I found myself drawn toward their story.

The woman’s name was May Kyann though that was not her real name. After one family member after another had passed away, she became the last surviving youngest daughter in the family. That was why everyone called her “May Kyann,” meaning “the one left behind.”

May Kyann and her family were internally displaced people who had fled Sittwe due to the war in Arakan and had painfully sought refuge in Kyauktaw Township, an area controlled by the Arakan Army.

Across Arakan, many displaced people survive by relying on the Indian border trade routes strategically opened by the Arakan People’s Revolutionary Government. Carrying and unloading goods at border trade gates has become one of the primary jobs for displaced civilians.

May Kyann’s family also survived through this work. Income from carrying goods was unstable, some earned more than 10,000 kyats a day, while stronger workers could earn up to 50,000 kyats. Men with greater physical strength generally earned more than women. May Kyann said her husband had once been a strong worker, and because of that, their family had managed to survive reasonably well for some time.

Since 2024, the Arakan Army has gained control over nearly all major towns across Arakan, while the Arakan People’s Revolutionary Government has begun implementing administrative systems. The government opened border trade routes for public benefit and established healthcare and education departments for the people. It also developed judicial mechanisms that many believed functioned more effectively than those of the enemy government.

Unable to win on the ground or at sea, the military regime increasingly turned to air power. Drone strikes and jet fighter attacks became its primary strategy. At the beginning of 2026, airstrikes intensified significantly. Bombings targeted neighborhoods in Kyauktaw, Mrauk-U General Hospital, the market road in Yoe Ngu Village in Ponnagyun Township, detention camps in Dalet Chaung in Ann Township, Kyauktaw Bridge across the Kaladan River, and surrounding areas near towns. These attacks deeply traumatized the people of Arakan.

As a result, civilians became afraid of crowded places and cautious about public gatherings and festivals. Displaced people like May Kyann’s family, who had no stable place to live, grew fearful of settling in populated towns and villages. Taking advantage of this situation, May Kyann’s husband left Kyauktaw and moved to one of the major trade hubs near the Indian border. There, he continued working as a cargo laborer and sent support back to the family left behind in Kyauktaw.

But according to May Kyann, that support lasted less than a month. After that, all contact from her husband stopped.

Later, May Kyann discovered that her husband had abandoned the family because of another relationship. At that time, she was already four months pregnant. Because of the pregnancy, she could no longer work as effectively carrying cargo. Work opportunities also declined, leading to reduced income. Reduced income brought hunger. Her young children, still too small to understand the full reality, began experiencing hardship and suffering directly.

That was why May Kyann’s family now sat together on the boat heading upriver along the Kaladan. Their only hope was to search for her husband at the Indian border trade camps and somehow regain shelter and support from him.

Myanmar officially enacted the Monogamy Law on August 31, 2015. Under the law, taking another spouse while legally married is considered a criminal offense punishable by up to seven years in prison. The law was intended to protect women’s dignity and rights, strengthen family stability, preserve social morality, and prevent gender inequality caused by unlawful polygamy and extramarital relationships.

However, reports now suggest that this law no longer effectively applies in territories administered by the Arakan People’s Revolutionary Government. Although the government has not officially announced the abolition of the monogamy law, reports indicate that judicial practices related to marriage and divorce have been modified.

According to circulating reports, Arakanese men may now be allowed to marry more than one woman. If the first wife objects, she may file for divorce in court, and the court may divide property equally between the two parties.

On the other hand, if a woman has more than one partner, the husband may file for divorce and claim full ownership of all property, leaving the woman with nothing. Many civilians therefore criticize the practice as deeply unequal, beneficial to men but harmful to women.

If this interpretation of the law becomes reality, May Kyann’s desperate journey may ultimately prove meaningless. Even if she finds her husband at one of the border trade camps, if he refuses reconciliation, there may be little she can do.

This raises fears that such legal practices could become opportunities for irresponsible men unwilling to fully support their families. Laws should protect those who follow ethical conduct and restrain those who do not. Good laws are essential for justice and for maintaining a healthy society.

Creating laws is one of the most important responsibilities of any government. The Arakan People’s Revolutionary Government may believe these changes serve the broader national interest. Yet every policy contains both strengths and weaknesses.

There are growing concerns that these changes could increase the abandonment of mothers and children, worsen malnutrition and developmental problems among children, weaken public trust in the justice system especially among women,  and contribute to rising social conflict in the future.

In truth, regardless of whether such laws exist or not, a married man should remain loyal and responsible toward his spouse and family. That alone reflects true humanity and moral dignity.
Here, I want to briefly mention the loyalty and responsibility of hornbills.

When hornbill couples prepare to raise offspring, they carefully search for a safe nesting place. If they find a hollow tree, they seal nearly the entire entrance with mud and saliva so that no other creature can enter. Once the female enters to lay eggs, the entrance is sealed almost completely shut.

From that moment onward, the female depends entirely on the male. The male hornbill spends months searching for food and feeding both the mother and the chicks until the young birds are ready to fly. Researchers say a male hornbill may gather nearly seventy insects per day during this period, faithfully fulfilling his duty for more than three or four months.

Even birds show such loyalty and responsibility toward their families. Human beings, with far greater intelligence, should demonstrate even greater loyalty and compassion.

If Arakan society hopes to build a respected future free from social conflict, moral reform is urgently necessary. Arakan’s people must learn to live with discipline, compassion, empathy, and balance between self-interest and collective responsibility. Only then can a prosperous and honorable future Arakan emerge. Moral and social regulations therefore require careful reform and thoughtful implementation.

Along the Kaladan River, countless small boats continued moving upstream with determination and hope toward their destinations. But May Kyann’s family, aboard the boat I traveled on, resembled small birds lost over dark waters at sunset. Their lives drifted like floating weeds lost in the middle of the river without any shoreline in sight.

Whenever the boat stopped at small villages for registration checks, passengers climbed ashore to buy snacks and food. During those moments, May Kyann sat silently with tears in her eyes, staring toward the opposite riverbank. Her young son played quietly with the puppy beside him. Her two daughters pretended to sleep while using a sack filled with clothes and blankets as a pillow.

Caught between an irresponsible husband and legal systems unable to fully protect married women, May Kyann’s journey now depended less on hope than on fate itself.