When I was seven years old, I slept with my nanny next to me at night. Where a headboard must be were mirrors that hung adjacent to each other on our wall. Back then, we had a funny way of sleeping, we slept with our heads right where our feet should be, so I could always see my reflection on the mirror before I sleep. A few days after my grandfather (my mom’s father) died, I was awaken in the middle of the night by the urge to pee. I saw a bright light coming from above my head. It puzzled me for a bit because we normally turn out all the lights, until I looked at the mirror and saw my grandfather, my dead grandfather. He was just staring at me, and he was wearing what he wore in his coffin. I didn’t wake my nanny, nor did I tell anyone the morning after. Even at a young age, I knew what adults would and wouldn’t believe. I tried to go back to sleep, but somebody did wet the bed that night. 
When I was in college, we spent nights in our University Publication office. There are a lot of horror stories in my school. So whenever we spent the night in the office, we’d normally accompany each other to the bathroom. There was once instance when me and an editor went to the bathroom after midnight. We only use the first cubicle, the one closest to the door, so that if anything happens, we could run out fast. My editor went to use it first, I said I’ll use it after. I was standing by the door, and then all of a sudden, I saw what seemed like a burnt arm reaching out from the other cubicle to the one where my editor was. I didn’t panic, I didn’t say anything to my editor until we were out. She asked me why I didn’t want to use the bathroom anymore when a few minutes back, I was dying to take a leak. I waited till we were back in the office to tell her what I saw. And I waited until morning to actually pee. I never saw the burnt arm again till I graduated, not that I wished I had.
One night while I was packing up for a hike, I had to call a friend to ask a few things. I was in our living room and the balcony was dark because I turned out the light. I was looking at the glass window where I could see the reflection of our living room and myself as I held my phone over my ear. As my friend and I talked, I saw a lady in a long dress coming out of my grandma’s room and walking into the kitchen. It was so vivid and I followed her with my gaze. After calling my friend, it dawned on me that there was no one else in the house that time. The back door was locked, and seriously who would wear a dress like that? I got scared a little, but I grew up in that house so I was able to shake it off. Then again, one thing is certain, there is something or someone else living with me in that house other than my grandmother.
The Rohingya is described as the world’s “most persecuted people”. Said to be descendants of Persian or perhaps Arab Muslim traders who came to Myanmar long ago. Myanmar which is a predominantly Buddhist country had a Muslim Minority. The Rohingya people who resided in the Rakhine State in Myanmar were persecuted both for their faith and because majority of the Burmese people consider them as illegal immigrants who feed on their country’s resources. Years back, thousands of these so-called Rohingya people fled their land on boats, where they were either stranded or drowned. Photos of drowned children and other miserable shots of these people flooded the internet, for a while, many were enraged, many were concerned. Until the issue floated into social media history and the people moved on. But every day, these refugees still suffer. The old haven’t seen a day of peace for so long, the children are in danger of never having a childhood or of never knowing peace. They are hungry and tired from hours and days of hiking to safety. Their makeshift homes are flooded once in a while, they stay up all night with the water rising to their knee or their waists. UN Aids are impeded from rationing food. Myanmar’s Democracy Icon Aung San Suu Kyi have kept mum for so long and when she finally delivered her speech explaining her silence, couldn’t buy anyone’s confidence that she could alleviate the crisis that is Rohingya.
The first three paragraphs I have written probably would give some people goose bumps, scare them enough to make them look over their shoulders at night, as they face the mirror while brushing their teeth or combing their hair. But the stories of the Rohingya people, is the real horror story.
And you know what’s more scary?
These stories, these struggles, these pain and misery of these people are still happening every day. And if you’d only read about them, you would agree, that nothing is more haunting./WDJ