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Thomas Fuller นักข่าว NYTimes เล่าเบื้องหลังการค้นพบเรือประมงเขียวที่เป็นภาพข่าวมหาศาลเมื่อวาน ลำที่ถูกผลักดันออกนอกน่านน้ำไปแล้ว เขาบอกว่าคนที่ติดต่อและได้รับ sms จากบนเรือคือ Chris Lewa แอคติวิสต์สาวเบลเยียมซึ่งทำงานเพื่อคนอาระกันมานาน ฟุลเลอร์เอาเบอร์มือถือนี้ไปติดต่อบริษัทเพื่อขอพิกัด แต่ไม่ได้รับความร่วมมือ ทางบริษัทบอกว่าเป็นความลับ จะติดต่อกับตำรวจให้ช่วยเหลือคงไม่ได้ผล เพราะตำรวจ 70 กว่านายถูกย้ายเนื่องจากเกี่ยวข้องกับการค้ามนุษย์ เขาเลยเอาไปให้นาวาตรีวีรพงษ์ นาคประสิทธิ์ ซึ่งทหารเรือประจำที่เกาะหลีเป๊ะ ได้ผล พอใช้เส้นทหาร บริษัทมือถือยอมบอกพิกัดของเสาที่รับสัญญาณจากเรือครั้งสุดท้าย ฟุลเลอร์กับโจนาธาน เฮดจึงเหมาเรือสปีดโบ๊ตออกไปสิบกว่าไมล์ จึงเจอกับเรือดังกล่าว เขาบอกว่าเป็นเรื่องประหลาดที่แทนที่ทางการไทยจะออกไปช่วยค้นหาและช่วยเหลือเรือมนุษย์ กลับเป็นนักข่าวที่ต้องทำหน้าที่นี้แทน (ส่วนนักข่าวไทยไม่รู้อยู่ไหน?) อย่างไรก็ดีก็ต้องชมทหารเรือท่านนี้ที่ใส่ใจดำเนินการนะครับ http://nyti.ms/1FoCSTs
Pipob Udomittipong
By THOMAS FULLER
MAY 15, 2015
NY Time
“This is going to be like finding a black cat in a dark room.”
This was the assessment of Lt. Cmdr. Veerapong Nakprasit, a genial Thai naval officer, when we discussed the fate of a boat of Rohingya migrants abandoned by their crew off the coast of Thailand.
I met Commander Veerapong at his base on Lipe Island in the Andaman Sea. He took us out in his speedboat for an initial look at the area, a beautiful tropical archipelago of jungle-clad islands, blue water and white coral sands.
For days I had been collecting information about the Rohingya boat for an article I wrote about migrants from Myanmar, in Thursday’s paper. The passengers were being smuggled from Myanmar to Malaysia, a journey that had gone horribly wrong. After more than two months at sea, they used the only phone they had on board to relay increasingly urgent messages to their families. They had run out of food and water, they said. A Belgian woman named Chris Lewa, one of the most knowledgeable people about human trafficking in the region, collected these messages.
Her assistant called the boat and tried to get a sense of its location. The passengers said they saw two large islands to the south and the twinkling lights of what they presumed were the Thai mainland to the east and a few small islands to the north. They were anchored. The fact that they got Thai cellular service meant they were probably not more than 10 miles from the nearest cell tower.
Ms. Lewa gave me the number of the phone in the hope that I could help locate it. My Thai colleague, Poypiti Amatatham, contacted the Thai cellular provider. Would they be willing to tell us their location? It struck me as odd that The New York Times was doing this, not the rescue services of the Thai or Malaysian governments. But the Rohingya are one of the world’s most unwanted peoples, stateless, persecuted in their country of birth. Officials have little or no incentive to assist them.
When I told the phone company that I needed the phone’s location for humanitarian reasons, the company responded promptly:
“We fully understand the request and we have sympathy for the situation for the people on the boat — given the information you have provided,” the representative of the company emailed. “However, such requests for data from our network is governed by strict policies and we are not able to provide you with the information you request. Your request must be directed to the relevant police authorities.”
I decided against contacting the police. Many police officers in southern Thailand have been complicit in human trafficking (nearly 70 have been transferred from their posts during the continuing crackdown by Thailand’s military government.)
Commander Veerapong seemed to be the best bet in terms of finding the boat. At my urging he sent an email to the phone company requesting the coordinates of the seaborne phone. The company responded with the location of the cellular tower that had transmitted the last call registered on the phone. It was tantalizingly close to Lipe Island.
Commander Veerapong summoned us, a BBC crew and a few other journalists to his base at 1:30 p.m. When he came down from his headquarters, he told us that fishing boats appeared to have spotted the boat laden with the Rohingya — he had put out calls to fishermen in the area asking for assistance — and he showed us the location on his map. He told us that his superiors had ordered him to leave all reporters behind.
His aides gathered potato chips and instant noodles from the naval commissary, a shack overlooking the beach, and put them in a bag. This was to be the care package for the Rohingya. Accompanied by sailors carrying assault rifles he took off in his speedboat, powered by three powerful outboard engines. What were the Thai Navy’s plans? The Malaysians had already towed the boat away from their waters. Chris Lewa was concerned that the Rohingya could be towed further out to sea.
With my colleague Jonathan Head of the BBC, we rushed to find another speedboat. We found a willing captain whose boat had two large engines. We loaded the boat with extra fuel and sped away, crashing through choppy water.
Ten miles later we had spotted what appeared to be the Rohingya boat, which had attracted the attention of three Thai fishing boats. The decks of the three-story wooden boat were crowded with women and children and shirtless rail-thin men. As we approached they cried for help and told us they were hungry and thirsty. We threw them water bottles and told them that help was on the way. We gleaned as much information as we could. And we began filing our reports.
Commander Veerapong arrived minutes later, delivered the junk food and some water. His boat pulled back. He told us he was awaiting orders.
“This is going to be like finding a black cat in a dark room.”
This was the assessment of Lt. Cmdr. Veerapong Nakprasit, a genial Thai naval officer, when we discussed the fate of a boat of Rohingya migrants abandoned by their crew off the coast of Thailand.
I met Commander Veerapong at his base on Lipe Island in the Andaman Sea. He took us out in his speedboat for an initial look at the area, a beautiful tropical archipelago of jungle-clad islands, blue water and white coral sands.
For days I had been collecting information about the Rohingya boat for an article I wrote about migrants from Myanmar, in Thursday’s paper. The passengers were being smuggled from Myanmar to Malaysia, a journey that had gone horribly wrong. After more than two months at sea, they used the only phone they had on board to relay increasingly urgent messages to their families. They had run out of food and water, they said. A Belgian woman named Chris Lewa, one of the most knowledgeable people about human trafficking in the region, collected these messages.
Her assistant called the boat and tried to get a sense of its location. The passengers said they saw two large islands to the south and the twinkling lights of what they presumed were the Thai mainland to the east and a few small islands to the north. They were anchored. The fact that they got Thai cellular service meant they were probably not more than 10 miles from the nearest cell tower.
Ms. Lewa gave me the number of the phone in the hope that I could help locate it. My Thai colleague, Poypiti Amatatham, contacted the Thai cellular provider. Would they be willing to tell us their location? It struck me as odd that The New York Times was doing this, not the rescue services of the Thai or Malaysian governments. But the Rohingya are one of the world’s most unwanted peoples, stateless, persecuted in their country of birth. Officials have little or no incentive to assist them.
When I told the phone company that I needed the phone’s location for humanitarian reasons, the company responded promptly:
“We fully understand the request and we have sympathy for the situation for the people on the boat — given the information you have provided,” the representative of the company emailed. “However, such requests for data from our network is governed by strict policies and we are not able to provide you with the information you request. Your request must be directed to the relevant police authorities.”
I decided against contacting the police. Many police officers in southern Thailand have been complicit in human trafficking (nearly 70 have been transferred from their posts during the continuing crackdown by Thailand’s military government.)
Commander Veerapong seemed to be the best bet in terms of finding the boat. At my urging he sent an email to the phone company requesting the coordinates of the seaborne phone. The company responded with the location of the cellular tower that had transmitted the last call registered on the phone. It was tantalizingly close to Lipe Island.
Commander Veerapong summoned us, a BBC crew and a few other journalists to his base at 1:30 p.m. When he came down from his headquarters, he told us that fishing boats appeared to have spotted the boat laden with the Rohingya — he had put out calls to fishermen in the area asking for assistance — and he showed us the location on his map. He told us that his superiors had ordered him to leave all reporters behind.
His aides gathered potato chips and instant noodles from the naval commissary, a shack overlooking the beach, and put them in a bag. This was to be the care package for the Rohingya. Accompanied by sailors carrying assault rifles he took off in his speedboat, powered by three powerful outboard engines. What were the Thai Navy’s plans? The Malaysians had already towed the boat away from their waters. Chris Lewa was concerned that the Rohingya could be towed further out to sea.
With my colleague Jonathan Head of the BBC, we rushed to find another speedboat. We found a willing captain whose boat had two large engines. We loaded the boat with extra fuel and sped away, crashing through choppy water.
Ten miles later we had spotted what appeared to be the Rohingya boat, which had attracted the attention of three Thai fishing boats. The decks of the three-story wooden boat were crowded with women and children and shirtless rail-thin men. As we approached they cried for help and told us they were hungry and thirsty. We threw them water bottles and told them that help was on the way. We gleaned as much information as we could. And we began filing our reports.
Commander Veerapong arrived minutes later, delivered the junk food and some water. His boat pulled back. He told us he was awaiting orders.
