Despite risk, a photographer stays at the front line in Myanmar

With many of his colleagues dead, arrested or in hiding, a freelance photojournalist insists on recording history.

May 29, 2024

Photo documentary by Khu Sam

After the February 2021 military coup in Myanmar, many reporters fled the country for their safety.

Photographer Khu Sam chose to stay put. Since then, the freelance photojournalist — who is being referred to by a pseudonym for security reasons — has traveled the country documenting the spiraling conflict and its human costs.

From Kachin state in the north to Tanintharyi in the south, almost no part of Myanmar has been spared from fighting. More than 50,000 people have died, according to the Armed Conflict Location and Event Data Project, a global conflict monitor, and an estimated 2 million have been displaced.

Across Myanmar’s villages and towns, more than 80,000 homes have been torched, according to the NGO Data for Myanmar. Healthcare, the economy and schooling are all in shambles; and the war rages on.

“A lot of people are traumatized. Wherever I go, the children are really traumatized, they are really sad. I see that every time,” Khu Sam told Radio Free Asia. “When they see a plane or hear the sound of the plane they are shaking, they start saying ‘we need to hide.’ … It’s like a nightmare.”

Khu Sam was on the ground in Yangon on Feb. 1, 2021, when the military overthrew the democratically elected government, imprisoning the nation’s top leaders and installing the generals once again.

When large scale protests broke out in the days and months that followed, soldiers reacted brutally, killing hundreds and imprisoning thousands more. Among those to die was a photojournalist friend of Khu Sam’s, who was killed while trying to photograph a demonstration.

Journalists like Khu Sam have faced particular scrutiny. At least 176 have been arrested and four killed since the coup, according to the International Federation of Journalists. Khu Sam moved house every few months to evade arrest; eventually, leaving Yangon made the most sense.

“When I arrived and when I started shooting [pictures] inside the revolution area, I felt like I’m safe for the moment. I’m safe from being arrested or targeted by the junta,” he said.

“But on the other [hand] they’re bombing — not only on the front lines but bombing villages, hospitals, schools, everything … basically no place is safe anymore in Myanmar after the coup.”

Despite the danger, for Khu Sam and his handful of remaining colleagues, covering the conflict has become like a compulsion. They lack body armor and sometimes resort to wearing motorcycle helmets for protection. Khu Sam is down to one lens; some colleagues lack even a spare battery.

“All Myanmar photographers are really struggling for the moment,” he said. “We know it can be dangerous and we can be hit but we don’t have any choice, so we just go there.”

In these photos from February and March of this year, Khu Sam presents the front lines of a conflict that shows little sign of abating. Haggard families trudge past a rebel’s car as they escape yet another bombing; medics treat a gravely wounded soldier; fighters duck gunfire inside a temple. But the photographer also captures moments of humor and grace: young fighters smile as they splash in a river; a soldier cradles a pet monkey like a child.

“For me, this is a history — a history of the country as well as a people's history,” he wrote in a text. He and his colleagues “are trying to record the changing history, so that the people know about real news,” he explained.

This feeling helps him push on. Even today, each time Khu Sam goes to the front lines, he says a little mantra to comfort himself.

“I just pray to myself: Okay today maybe I’m going to die but my last photo is going to be what’s happening right now.”