The inky blackness of the Andaman Sea stretched endlessly, the moon hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds. On the horizon, a dim silhouette emerged: a small, rickety fishing boat. Closer, a larger, more crowded vessel became visible, its hull groaning under the weight of approximately 30 souls. These were migrants, primarily Rohingya, fleeing the violence and persecution that had consumed their homeland.
The two boats closed the distance, their hulls brushing against each other, the air thick with the smell of salt and fear. A makeshift transfer began, ten migrants at a time, leaping from the crowded deck of the medium boat to the smaller one. The small boat bobbed precariously, threatening to capsize with each transfer.
A young woman, clutching her infant, hesitated at the edge of the medium boat. Fear paralyzed her. The rough seas, the darkness, the sheer desperation of the situation—it was too much. Time was running out. The small boat’s crew yelled, urging her on.
A crew member from the medium boat, his face grim, made a split-second decision. He reached out and snatched the baby from the woman’s arms, tossing the infant towards the waiting hands of a crew member on the small boat. A collective gasp rose from the migrants. The baby landed safely, caught by the small boat crew.
Shock and adrenaline surged through the mother. With a desperate cry, she leaped across the gap, landing roughly on the deck of the small boat, her eyes fixed on her child. The two boats drifted apart, carrying their human cargo further into the treacherous unknown.
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms
Migrant deaths in Asia hit record high in 2024, UN data reveals
Comments